As a child, I always hated spinach - to be honest, I'm sure most kids would say the same. Despite the best efforts of Popeye the Sailorman to convince us of it's Herculean strength giving properties, there was absolutely nothing that you could have done to force the revolting green stuff down my throat, not even for a million transformer toys, or the last sticker I needed to complete my 1990 World Cup Pannini sticker album.

So deeply entrenched was my hatred of this leafy vegetable, that it wasn't until a few weeks ago that I finally gave it a second chance, much against my better judgement, at a dinner party thrown by one of our school governors. When the first course appeared as a spinach & cheese wrap, two conflicting viewpoints clashed furiously in my subconscious - the bratty 7 year old inside me, sulking and screaming in outrage at being served this noxious concoction took on the mature, professional adult that I occasionally pretend to be these days, who considers keeping someone who has ultimate power over my employment status happy worth taking a few mouthfuls of hors d'oeuvre for.

Eventually, adult-me won the battle, sent kid-me to it's room in a huff and bit the bullet (or rather the crispy pancake wrap). Much to my surprise, I didn't instantly fall to the floor gagging at the poisonous substance lodged in my throat, but found myself rather enjoying it.

I've had a similarly longstanding aversion to country music. I blame my Dad, who would subject the household to crackly recordings of yodelling yokels turned up loud enough that he could hear it over the noise of the lawnmower in the garden (he's also responsible for an early dislike of blues, hiking and moustaches).

Until last year, it was a dislike that had held firm (country music that is, not moustaches - though I've still never even contemplated growing one myself), until that fateful spinach and cheese wrap moment arrived at Truck Festival 2005 on the main stage, watching the delectable Piney Gir. The charm,

humour and massive frocks on show blew away my deep seated anti-country prejudices and within minutes I was grinning like a fool, dancing along to accordion-led hoe downs.

Fast forward a year, and following another heart-stopping performance featuring a troupe of line-dancers at this year's Truck, Piney releases her first single under her Country Roadshow guise on the fledgling Sounds Experience label.

Live, a large part of the appeal is Piney herself and her effervescent charm and contagious enthusiasm, and short of bussing her in to the front rooms of each of the 500 people that buy this limited release, it's never going to be quite the same experience on vinyl (even if it is hand numbered). Nevertheless, 'Great Divide' proves that there's substance behind the petticoats and vintage dresses. A rusty fiddle introduction leads into Piney's lilting vocal, shuffly drums and a toe-tapping little ditty about hitting the road and heading on down the open highway, as country singers seem to do rather more often than the rest of us. Double A side 'Trouble' is a more uptempo number, and feature both pedal steel guitar and a train whistle, so is of course undeniably ace.

Thinking back, perhaps I'm being hasty to lay the credit for my country conversion entirely at Piney Gir's door - for the seeds had been sown several years before, by fellow Truck stalwarts Black Nielson, who were clever enough to camouflage their country-ish tendencies with just enough indie jangle to pull the wool over my eyes.

Sadly, Black Nielson called it a day about a year ago, but singer Mike Gale has returned along with his girlfriend Ilona with a new project, Co-Pilgrim. The four tracks on their 'Front Porch' cd are so sparse, featuring hushed acoustic guitar, ghostly keys and glockenspiel and beautiful, ethereal vocal

harmonies. This minimalist approach works to astonishing effect on a cover of Smog's 'Chosen One', and is just as breathtaking on their own material, with opener 'Deliverance Coffin' sending tingles down my spine. Such is the simple power of these songs that they transport my mind to beautiful but desolate landscapes, completely isolated from the rest of the world, with nothing but horizon as far as the eye can see. They finish by invoking the spirit of the Everley Brothers for an astonishing rendition of 'Let It Be Me'. This is music that you have to give your undivided attention to, you need to immerse yourself in it - whatever you do don't put it on as background music while you work, you'll never get anything done.

Our final travellers along the lonesome dusty road of country music are South Londonders The Low Edges, and while Shadwell might not seem like the most obvious place of origin for fire & brimstone country preaching, that's exactly what they offer up. Singer James has the requisite gravely voice, and takes a particularly dastardly tone on 'When I Am Cruel', which opens this demo, aided and abetted by stabs of twisty guitar lines, a runaway drumbeat and subtle swathes of keyboard.

So, perhaps I was wrong about country music too. Hmm, I fancy a spinach and cheese wrap...

Reviews by Paul Madden