Richard Durrant is a legend. No arguments. He’s a guitarist - been playing for over 30 years. Internationally known and with reason.

He cycles to his concerts from all over England, from as far north as Orkney. This time, in less than four weeks, he pedalled from Shropshire through Herefordshire, Bishop’s Castle, London and Wilmington, to perform six concerts on the way before touching home base, then cycling on to Brighton’s Open Air theatre. His bicycle, trailer attached, stands on the stage, awaiting his appearance. It’s a hot but breezy afternoon.

“It burns a little less carbon,” says Richard, when he appears. And that’s his message. Spare the planet all the carbon emissions from cars.

I like guitarist Richard Durrant’s concerts. There’s always something new, whether on stage at the Ropetackle in Shoreham or, in this case, at the Brighton Open Air Theatre, Sunday 22nd June.

placeholder image — Richard posing after the concert.

He’s everybody’s next door neighbour - a friend - unassuming, modest, yet with a talent that stuns and grips us as we watch his fingers tumbling over the strings: works by Bach, Augustin Barrios, and latter day composers who I shall mention as I go along.

Wearing a black jacket and knee-length shorts, he performs bare-footed, tapping his feet. He’s living the music. It’s part of him. Some works familiar, others new, so we’re learning.

“There’s nothing pure about the Bach piece I’m going to play,” he says at the start, “in D minor instead of C minor.“ And at the finish, gives a slight bow to the claps: “I do like playing here,” he declares. “The atmosphere you get in this place.”

And so to the 17th century’s Henry Purcell and some high baroque music. He talks about the piece; plays it on his bog oak made guitar, telling the story of how it was fashioned from a 5000-year-old fallen tree trunk. His enthusiasm is catching. Rather than electric guitars, he says, he prefers his rich-sounding acoustic instruments.

Richard Durrant with his bike, performing at BOAT

He’s a personal friend of the English composer John Dowland, he claims, referring to the next piece by the man who actually spanned the 16th and 17th centuries, living to what might then have been a ripe old age of 64.

Then gradually, the tone shifts, and he goes on to play spirited works of his own and of his friends: Lady Nothynge’s Toy Puffe by John Renbourn; The Walrus Tree, the Twitten; Jo Leon Rosselson’s The Ant & the Grasshopper, written for the folk, baroque, rock singer Martin Carthy.

And quietly, somewhere at the side, is Django Durrant, tweaking the sound systems to give his father the best delivery possible. We’re prompted to give him a deserved clap. And unclapped, but important: Louise Durrant, Richard’s wife, manning the table that sells his recordings, chatting and welcoming us. You could say it’s a family affair.

For the last piece, he sits before his music stand, pegging down the pages against a stiff wind, to play “The Art of Levitation”, written for this tour. Eyes shut, bare feet tapping: Bach on a banjo. Lateral thinking at its most inventive. I hope we hear it again at the Ropetackle on 18th July this year.

Richard Durrant's bike with trailer, awaiting his appearance at Brighton Open Air Theatre

With a last pluck on the frets, he takes his bow and leaves, to the sound of a loudly applauding audience.

After the show, Richard chats with, and welcomes his friends, outside the dressing room. This is the beauty of Brighton Open Air Theatre, where people circulate, chat, bring their picnics and enjoy the show.