THE remoteness of Clifden makes it seem as if it's at the end of the world, a bus journey's ride to nowhere. On arrival, there is little choice but to stay put, and momentarily reflect on the isolation prior to heading straight into a pub.

By early evening, the contingent of native and foreign blues'n country fans were in the mood for a good time. Come 10 p.m. they got it, and this is where the small but effective festival comes up trumps. If it's true to say that there are no big names here, then it is also true that what is on offer perfectly suits the low key purpose of the event. If Clifden is about anything then it's about feeling as if you're as much an essential part of the picture as the musician.

This is probably why the likes of The Stone Rangers, a tight country rock outfit, and The Rye River Band - a fine country band that offers a credible Cajun twist to their sturdy renditions of Steve Earle, John Prine, and J.J. Cale songs - work so well. Those two bands are prime examples of the steady spirit of this festival. The best music of the night, however, belonged to newcomers The Paul Buckley Band, whose overall sound was good enough to convey a sense of gritty realism and blues guitar bliss to anyone who cared to listen.

A show stopper and a real find, Buckley and all the other festival stalwarts will be back same time, same place, next year. You can, I think, depend on it.