To the delight of people for whom "gothic" conjures up sepia photos of hellfire preachers, it's an Americana double bill at Bush Hall. Headliners Blanche, led by married Detroiters Dan and Tracee Miller, have the hollow-eyed-and-haunted thing down to a T, and the supporting Felice Brothers, three siblings from upstate New York, are pretty nearly there. The normal laws of geography are suspended for a couple of hours, as a corner of London W12 is teleported to a fictional swath of America, where men have biblical names and everything is taken as a bad omen.

That is the romanticised imagery common to both groups, and they heighten the impact by dressing the part. The scrawny Millers are togged out in a seersucker travelling-salesman's suit and a long, billowy white dress, and the Felices wear trilbies and Depression-era vests.

James, Ian and Simone Felice produce old-man music on accordion and guitars, the songs wheezing and sighing as if every breath will be their last. They leave the place wanting more, and Blanche oblige, layering pedal steel upon banjo upon old-time tremulous vocals. The Millers are well-connected in Detroit (the banjoist is the Raconteurs' Jack Lawrence), but there's nothing urban about this back-porch folk-blues set. Mournful and sweet, their harmonies send a chill through the room, and the songs pulse with melancholy. Introducing O Death, Where Is Thy Sting, Tracee says: "This is a real pretty, sad song," and that sums up the evening - real pretty and sad.

· The Felice Brothers play Borderline, London (020-7534 6970), tonight.