Billed as “two key figures behind the UK folk renaissance”, the Brighton Festival’s nod to the genre certainly provided two contrasting approaches.

Scotsman Alasdair Roberts opened the evening, and provided a deep and compelling set that sifted through the subtleties traditional songs allow singers to explore.

Accompanied by a fiddle and double bass, which, together with his guitar, made for a sparse-yet-warm combination, Roberts mixed his dark wit and impeccable sense of timing into the songs, turning the chorus of The Cruel Mother – a tale of infanticide – into a singalong. “Are any of you on anti-depressants?” he deadpanned.

Roberts’ distinctive plucking style, a blend of delicacy and aggression, lent itself beautifully to Long Lankin, a ballad soaked in blood and recrimination. His intriguing, almost joyous reading of it typified his subtle, impressive performance.

Although accompanied by a larger, more varied band (including saxophone, trumpet, trombone and electric guitars), Ian King had less to offer.

King’s bluesy arrangements were well suited to his band, which included an impressive percussionist, but less so to the songs he played. And he seemed to be stuck in gear, applying the same breezy, jazzy treatment to most of his material.

“This one’s called The Jovial Broom Man, only we’ve taken the joviality away”, he joked in one introduction. The problem was, he’d also stripped it of its focus. A shimmying take on The Isle Of France was a particular lowlight.

King was better suited to his original material, such as an emotional tribute to a passed friend. He further picked up his heels once he’d moved from guitar to banjo, and would be well advised to stick at that.