Lost to the sight of a man standing on one leg, playing a flute, reinventing the blues and lots of other things. Here are two strange words, Jethro Tull!

Suddenly, grown men sigh and think of lost days of longhaired loon-panted finery. This is a festival scene set to happen, within this vicinity, in two weeks time.

Forget the gigantism of Glastonbury, the trench-like traumas of Chelmsford or even the girly mud wrestling of Knowsley to the soundtrack of an affected Devonian soul chic! This is the summer of the eclectic niche fest.

One of the finest examples of these, if not THE finest, must be The 2007 National Acoustic Festival, taking place on July 28 and sited at Nantwich. Here, huddled together, you will find an almost alarming and unlikely gathering of international multi-genre talent.

Ok, in places, of you are rather more naturally drawn towards Dizzy Rascal, you may have to seek parental advice on elements of hipness hereinor indeed, read on here.

Here is the list: Jethro Tull, Whitesnake, Saw Doctors, Chris Difford, Jah Wobble, Midge Ure, Bluetones, Gordon Giltrapp, Mike Peters, Captain Sensible, Kirk Brandon and beyond, in the shadows of the under bill some of the genuinely finest examples of Americana, celtica and a multiple gatherings of sub genre.

This could be rather more special than the sight of The Kaiser Chiefs bouncing around a rain swept stages in Leeds, or Lily Allen systematically destroying The Special's gangsters in a fit of flat smokey bellowing. This is the real deal.

Think of Jethro Tull. Some people still do. They came out of Luton and Wythenshawe and Blackpool. From the heart of the 60s R'n'B circuit they swerved to a niche of their own where the countryside-chic of their name - Jethro Tull invented the plough, or something - literally swept the world, creating superstar status in America, where they are still regarded as one of the all time greats.

Rolling Stone and Cream magazines both placing Tull' on a par with Grateful Dead or Crosby Stills Nash and Young.

In England, as the 60s twisted into the 70s, it was essential for any young man of an overtly hairy ilk to be seen lurking at bus stops with a copy of Tull's Stand Up clasped under one arm. Every single aspect of this album screamed innovation'. Even the sleeve, which did indeed, stand up, and became the much beloved plaything of a thousand smoke addled college parties.

Here was an album where the blues was tugged to a place mysteriously referred to as underground'. (The true sound of the late 60s, often heard seeping out of art school dances from Notting Hill Gate to Mablethorpe).

Tull were and are fronted by the charismatic Ian Anderson, arguably the most extraordinary looking character in rock history, his iconic one-legged stance perhaps most easily glimpsed at the start of The Rolling Stone's Rock'n'Roll Circus, where this extraordinary band - Clive Bunker, Mick Abraham's and Martin Barre managed to upstage not just The Stones but also The Who in their prime, Marianne Faithful and a Clapton/Lennon collaboration called Dirty Mac, performing Yer Blues.

But, whereas Clapton and co languished in traditional meet-me-at-the-bloody-crossroads' style nonsense, Tull were moving in unique circles, weaving folk, jazz and theatre into the heady mix. Later albums such as Benefit, Aqualung and Thick as a Brick would seal their reputation even if their first for innovation would eventually cost them the mainstream status of, say, an artistically lesser band. Genesis, perhaps?

To catch Jethro Tull alone, in a town such as Nantwich would itself be a remarkable coup. But to see them surrounded by such an eclectic mix is little short of astonishing.

Jah Wobble, one might suggest, is quite the antithesis of Tull. He Initially came to the attention via his bass playing for the original version of PIL, featuring John Lydon. PIL were one of the most extraordinary and genuinely innovative bands of the post-punk era and Wobble's dipping dub bass lines helped marry urban reggae to a colourful blend of clipped Krautrock and the thrusting guitars of Keith Levine.

Post PIL, Wobble embarked on three decades of electronica and trance experimentation, although these genres can't really hold him. Like Tull, however, Jah Wobble defies such definitionsand occasionally, belief.

How could Jah Wobble share a world, let alone a bill, with Whitesnake originals Bernie Marsden and Neil Murray? And yet the unifying element here is the unplugged nature where songs are stripped of electric treatment and allowed to rise nakedly, as nature intended.

You may regard Whitesnake as a band hailing from the soft MOR rock fringe but, in a Nantwich tent, they will be cast adrift from the comforts of a big rock show.

Saw Doctors need no explanation, really. They have a large Warrington following, where their Irish country ballads are seen as rallying calls to middle age hedonism. ("Oh nomum and dad have gone to see The Saw Doctors again. They will be rolling in at two am, probably without shoes.").

It is the glorious sound of growing old disgracefully.

I spoke, this week, to festival organiser Mike Stephens, one time manager of Lonnie Donegan. A ferocious enthusiast who instigated the first National Acoustic Festival, held at the same site, last year. Its success echoed through the to the more discerning festival goers, in particular those on the lookout for quality eclectic acts that are cleverly gathered near the foot of the bill.

Mike spoke passionately about Sheffield's Boy on a Dolphin' and Rodney Brannigan, impossibly talented guitarist recently acclaimed as the new face of Hofner guitars', whatever that might mean.

My eyes were rather more drawn towards a couple of old punk heroes who now flirt intriguingly one punk/folk fault line.

"Don't call it folkwe are NOT folk," screamed Stephens although, in these days of rock'n'reel, one wonders why he should object to the crossover.

I speak of Captain Sensible, performing alongside Kirk Branden (Theatre of Hate) and Mike Peters (The Alarm) and TV Smith. One time striking leader of The Adverts, perhaps the most underrated of all the original punk bands.

On SensibleI recall a darkened night in Soho. Five pints into an interview with The Damned. Sensible, Rat Scabies, Dave Vanium sat around a table in The Ship Inn. Each band member taking it in turns to set fire to a beer mat before hurling it at your humble and hapless interviewer.

Deeper into the night and at The Marquee, Sensible filled two hours of my tape recorder with glorious tales of down and dirty battles between The Damned and The Sex Pistols at the start of the London punk scene. I would forever regret leaving that recording somewhere in a Soho gutter.

With The Advertsthey caused me to fall in love, twice. Once with their orchidaceously beautiful bassist, Gaye Advert and, a poor second admittedly, with TV Smith's intelligent punk attack. One great album, Crossing the Red Sea with the Adverts, and a string of impossibly catchy singles, among them Bored Teenagers.

Bored Teenagers? TV Smith is now firmly into his 50s and still screaming from the sidelines.