An acapella unmiked solo performance of She's Like a Swallow in St John the Divine. The voice so beautiful, clear and powerful that as one line was still echoing in the stone ceiling arches, the next held it aloft, until the whole inside of the cathedral was a cascade of sound.

Another, an old tape recording of some old down and out fellow on the streets of London, singing Jesus' Love Never Failed Me Yet, over and over.

And a third, again acapella, of John Gothard singing You'll Not Get Me Down Underground in your Mine, many years ago.

I believe what struck me each time, to the fibre of my being, was the absolute lack of artiface. It was plain song and it was naked.