The folk tradition is full of violence. There's patricide, matricide, fratricide, sororicide, regicide and to this sorry litany we must now add a pet rabbit giving one of those daft wee toy dogs a right doin' at a barbecue. Out of just such an unappetising spectacle grew a medley that typifies the range of Lau's work.

The casual "and now a few jigs" with which they'll introduce the next item hardly does justice to the trio's artistry. Jigs - or reels, whatever - they may be, but fiddler Aidan O'Rourke, accordionist Martin Green and guitarist Kris Drever take them far from dance floor or session functionality and on to a creative journey full of subtlety, changes of pace, intricate solo or duo phrases and swelling, full-on resolutions. It's all beautifully orchestrated and although clearly well rehearsed, notably in the unison set-pieces, it's played with a feeling of spontaneity as well as attention to tone. Like the rabbit and dog tale, Green's tribute to a Shetlander friend, Stewart's, was something of an epic, going through the gears from lovely slow air upwards and winding up with anarchic accordion improvisations over a driving guitar rhythm and a creative accordion bass line.

Amid such instrumental prowess, the songs, although accompanied with typical consideration, become almost incidental. Drever's version of Ewan MacColl's Freeborn Man was sung boldly and the trio's mad vocalising took Old Man of the Mountain into entertaining swing-jazz mayhem.

It is, though, their musicianship - individual assets such as O'Rourke's sweet-toned expression as well as the collective sound - that makes Lau an exciting force whose development will be watched with interest.