Dot To Dot, Nottingham

Future Of The Left

It’s hot at Dot to Dot. We’re talking hottest day of the year hot, which is a double edged sword for a fully indoor festival. Thankfully, the Rescue Rooms are air conditioned and this is where we start with Mint Ive. These guys are loud. Chest constrictingly, eye polishingly loud. The Swiss boffins at CERN should experiment on these fellas to see what happens when protons are collided at sonic boom bass levels. You know when post rock bands like Explosions in the Sky slowly build to a howling crescendo? Well Mint Ive start and stay there adding in an extra layer of vocals. It’s impressive, though I feel drained by the end of their set.

Trent University’s bar stage for Hjaltalin. We arrive in time to hear a muffled announcement which we take to mean that the set has been cancelled. I suppose it’s asking a lot to come to Nottingham for a 30-minute set all the way from Iceland but mum went there last week and she had no complaints.

AC Newman starts 10 minutes early (isn’t anything on time in this country!?) in Trent’s much larger main room. He blasts through a fairly even split of tracks from both of his albums, barely stopping in the 30-minute set which is a shame as his banter is generally entertaining. He however strangely introduces himself and his band as “we’re AC Newman” about 15 times.

We dash straight back upstairs to the Bar stage for Maps. This tiny venue is now absolutely swamped and with no air con, it’s as hot as the bowels of hell. A black mark against the organisers for putting Maps here and AC Newman downstairs when each would have worked better on the reverse stage. A black mark also against Maps who are surprisingly pedestrian. The sound is muddy and quiet, stage presence is minimal and the whole thing is a major disappointment.

As we head towards Rock City we pray for more air conditioning and thankfully, in the Basement venue, that’s what we get. We catch the end of Telegraphs’ set, pleasantly surprised by their brand of spiky rock. Mumford & Sons are a totally different proposition, though I worry that the organisers have got it wrong again putting them in the festival’s biggest venue – the main hall of Rock City. This time, it’s a black mark against me as Mumford & Sons are a festival saving revelation. Their thick, four-part harmonies soar alongside traditional folk rock which is elevated through the group’s sheer gusto. This is not just traditional folk rock; this is M&S folk rock.

I am now officially excited as we head to see perennial lazy gits – My Vitriol. One brilliant debut album, later remixed with a disk of B-sides plus an underwhelming EP in eight years has pushed my patience to cracking point. I once loved this band but with each new-album-less year that passes, my own vitriol with the band grows. What have they been doing with their time? Judging by the quality of the performance and more of the new songs on offer – not a great deal. The sound is quite possibly even louder than Mint Ive though the quality isn’t there. It’s painfully loud at times. Som‘s vocals are swamped and I can see ‘new’ bass player Laura Claire‘s mouth moving at the mic but can hear nothing that matches it. When Som’s voice does emerge through the mire, it feels strained and strangely croony – the youthful crispness of old seems to be gone. Only ‘Always: Your Way’ sounds as vital as it did waaaaaay back at the turn of the century, with other older gems like ‘Grounded’ sounding tired. In this, my 20th festival, I may have just witnessed the most disappointing festival set of all.

House of Brothers’ sound really good but my ears and soul have been damaged by My Vitriol and an energising sit down with a beer is required. Thank the Lord for Wintersleep who fully restore my faith in festival music. Playing in the same room as Mint Ive, I’m overjoyed to hear that the sound man responsible for almost creating a black hole has seemingly been fired, replaced by someone who realises that playing at 200 decibels does not always equate to good rocking. Wintersleep’s melodic grunge rock is delivered in a tightly wrapped parcel of care and joy. The stretched epic and personal favourite, ‘Miasmal Smoke & The Yellow Bellie’ ends a festival best set.

We almost waste a trip, rushing over to catch Alessi’s Ark only just making their final song. I say ‘almost’ because that last track was excellent. Seriously though, what’s the excuse for a festival act to start early?

More food then back into a now packed Rescue Rooms for The Joy Formidable. It’s a tough one as a reviewer here to stay focussed on the band and how they performed rather than needlessly commenting on how smoking hot lead singer Ritzy Bryan is but I shall do my best. The band’s upbeat and glossy power pop rock captures and holds the attention of the sardine tin crowd and the trio bounce around the stage enjoying their set as much as we do. Noticing with dread at an earlier point in the day that queues were forming outside Rock City, we cut The Joy Formidable’s set slightly early to make sure we make it for hot prospects Future of the Left. Queues at festivals mean that something has been badly organised and when we eventually get in, 10 minutes into FotL’s 30-minute set, I am perplexed and one rung away from rage when we see the mass of space in the venue. There’s room for at least another 150 people yet people are still queuing at the door on a one out, one in system. It was never in doubt but Future of the Left are worth it. Intense, fiery, entertaining and just plain brilliant. It’s heart breaking that a) we only saw 20 minutes and b) that they only had 30 in the first place. Bass player, Kelson Mathias is his usual deadpan, rock ‘n’ roll self, letting the crowd know that his earlier viewing of a previous band was ruined by someone near him in the crowd farting – “all I could smell was beef, it brought me right down”. During the last track, much to the chagrin of the bar staff, Mathias mounts the bar, takes a mouthful of beer directly from the tap and sprays it across the crowd.

We hope to return to the Rescue Rooms for the last half an hour of Fight Like Apes but it seems that 90 per cent of the festival’s attendees are doing the same. Our friend, who stayed around in the venue, informs us that security closed the adjacent bar during the set. This means that several hundred people are trying to get in and out through one small exit into a pretty small, already packed room. It also means that the venue’s toilets are now behind locked doors. Congratulations to the brainiacs behind that decision.

With the excellence of Future of the Left still ringing in our ears, we wisely decide to call it a day knowing that one more ridiculous organisational decision could turn a generally enjoyable day into a sour one. It’s a disappointment that in the festival’s fifth year, these problems are cropping up and I’m inclined to consider Bristol‘s version next year. A good time has been had for sure but the day has been a real mixed bag of highs and lows. I just hope that the festival’s organisers get the iron out next year as Dot to Dot in Nottingham this time, had a few too many creases.

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