St. Bon's must be something of an anomaly in terms of your typical Bristolian venue. An honest-to-god parish social club with 70s velvet drapes and floral carpeting, its audiences are a mixed bag of a handful of potential Pitchfork readers, students, a large majority of over-40 folk fans and - for tonight, - myself and two bewildered friends. Beyond the decor though, St. Bonaventure's Social Club is something of a cult folk magnet having hosted shows by Iron & Wine, Hamell On Trial and The Decemberists to name but a few, and tonight they welcome some Portland luminaries - Norfolk & Western and M. Ward.

Norfolk & Western are composed of the dapper looking Adam Selzer and Rachel Blumberg. A selection of ramshackle folk songs is on offer, neatly emblazoned with Blumberg's superb drumming - thundering toms and pretty cymbal flourishes - as well as glockenspiel and uke. Selzer's songs are delicate and reclusive, suiting the minimal instrumentation, but occasionally don't make too much of an imprint on the memory. Pleasant and appreciative of the thankful crowd, Norfolk & Western shuffle off stage only to reappear twenty minutes later to play backing for an old Portland friend...

M. Ward is not with us, however. As he prowls around the diminutive stage in the near darkness with his baseball cap low over his eyes, he is somewhere else. His guitar writhes around in his hands and threatens to break free of its strap at any moment. His fingers nimbly pick and strum with a passion I've not seen before, a passion that negates any self-aware fretboard posturing that is doubtlessly going on in any venue in the country at this precise moment. I have no idea where I am and I don't mind. Look around the audience during this opening instrumental track and you'll see mouths wide open and fixed vacant eyes. There is bar noise, feet shuffling, a glass breaking, but none of us can hear it. As the last sorrowful chord fades into silence, rapturous applause takes its place as we all realise what kind of show we are about to be treated to.

Lyrically, Ward smiles shyly, delivering bittersweet and child-like lines. 'Outta My Head begins: "A playful little kitten / met a playful little / and then off with his head / off with his head/ oh my!" He darts between material from The Transfiguration Of Vincent (like a bare and beautiful cover of Bowie's 'Let's Dance' - introduced as "My favourite English love song") and newer songs from Transistor Radio. While Ward shines playing solo, when joined by Adam, Rachel and fellow Portland friend Zak Riles, the songs become richer. The thundering, macabre 'Four Hours In Washington' could almost be the result of Iron & Wine writing a soundtrack for a B-movie horror film, whilst 'Fuel For Fire' looks to the weary country soul of My Morning Jacket. Rachel's backing to Ward's voice feels even more effective than with Selzer, her uneasy falsetto perfectly smoothing the edges of his bluesmans rasp.

You know a good show when you come away from it wondering where it took you and truly realising how futile it is to put into a few scant paragraphs. All I can offer is that however much M. Ward advocates a past era of radio, his songs and his passion for delivering them make perfect sense when played live.