Constellations 2011

By Russell Warfield

November 12, 2011

This year’s Constellations Festival was a double-decker treat for me. Not only was it a second straight year of excellent music at Leeds University Union (and only the second year in total, to boot), but it was also the first time that I managed to get back oop n’rth after graduating from the university earlier this year. Gorgeously decorated stages aside, it was a joy to roam around the place, enjoying performances, supping on pints which didn’t require me to sell a kidney to purchase. (Note to self: don’t just turn this into a review of how much you love Leeds)

One of the first major highlights of the day came in the form of Dutch Uncles – playing a handsomely populated Stylus (one of the bigger venues on offer at Constellations), providing a welcome indication that they aren’t staying as under the radar as I supposed them to be. Putting in a typically engaging and tight performance, Dutch Uncles even gave an airing to some promising new material alongside their usual gems of peppy melodies and spitting rhythms.

After that, came the first clash of the day in the form of Islet vs. Summer Camp. Since I’d seen Summer Camp a few times, and Islet only once (and harbouring a suspicion that a second Islet performance was unlikely to feel recycled) I plumped for Islet. Sadly, however, they were marred by the Riley Smith Hall – a vast, husk of a hall within which – wait for it – you were disallowed from taking in alcohol (?!) A major handicap for any daylong festival venue, it ensured that the vast, echoing hall was even emptier than it would have been anyway – a fact which did not well suit Islet, whose eccentric instrument swapping dynamism relies on a certain level of intimacy for its energy. Sneaking out to see the tail end of Summer Camp was rewarding, then, even if essentially a retread of any prior set of theirs.

Another clash then (a lot of them in fact – which is just a good thing as it is bad, in a sense), between Steven Malkmus and Braids. After kindly electing to open with the dirty mouthed new single ‘Senator’ (and sounding a hell of a lot more rockin’ than I expected), I begrudgingly left Malkmus to his own devices for the promise of seeing Braids in the smallest, most intimate venue of the festival. In the event, an absolutely ridiculous overrun of forty minutes for the most over-detailed sound-checking I’ve ever seen meant I could’ve done both – but, not to worry – Braids delivered what I wanted: beguiling, rolling textures taking their sweet time to build and release, fronted by a sensational sweeping vocal.

Perhaps the best set of the day came from the Antlers, who I’ve somehow managed to miss in the live setting on several occasions over the last few years. (So eager I was to see Antlers that I accepted the fate of going into prohibition at the Riley Smith, even at that point in the evening). Drawing mainly upon the new Burst Apart material, the Antlers provided a harder edge to their material than I was expecting, along with a less surprising command of emotive vocal. A very beautiful and transportative hour, leading very nicely into the headline act from Wild Beasts. They seem to headline everything - especially in Leeds – but, every time I think I might give them a miss, they remind me why I never tire of them. A spellbinding set drawing from the old stuff and the criminally underrated Smother, they provided a completely captivating climax to the evening – allowing for loads of space to envelop their crisp, rolling rhythm sections and trademark falsetto vocals. In all – a second triumph for Constellations, putting them at two for two, and providing me with an annual reason to make the pilgrimage back to my musical homeland.

Supersonic 2011

You’d be forgiven to believe that now the summer is over that so was the festival season. However you’d be wrong. Capsule’s Supersonic festival in Birmingham’s Custard Factory is an onslaught of extreme, experimental, noise, electronic and rock music, and one that will have any avante garde fan frothing at the mouth.

This year is Supersonic’s 9th invasion of the Custard Factory and has become the one of the most important events in every open minded music fan’s calendar. What sets it apart from many UK festivals is not only its genre bending line-ups where you can find anything from black metal to industrial noise but the workshops and films it provides alongside this.

This years line-up doesn’t fall short of yesteryear’s either – it’s draped in music of all kinds that we at Muso’s Guide can’t wait for:

Turbonegro, Bardo Pond, Kogumaza, The Skull Defekts, Alexander Tucker presents DORWYTCH CYCLE, Eternal Tapestry, Electric Wizard, Teeth of the Sea, The Berg Sans Nipple, Wolves in the Throne Room, ENVY, Cloaks, Pekko Kappi, Secret Chiefs 3, Fire! with special guest Oren Ambarchi, Slabdragger, Circle, Scorn, Zombi, Lucky Dragons, Cut Hands, Monarch, Supersonic Kids Gigs, Kill All Redneck Pricks: KARP LIVES! 1990-1998, a.P.A.t.T., Part Chimp, White Hills, Agathe Max, Pharaoh Overlord, Dirty Electronics: Mute Synth, Byetone, Nathan Bell, Barn Owl, Man with a Video Camera, Alva Noto, Zu93 (ZU and David Tibet), Antilles, Tony Conrad, Silver Apples, Astro

Supersonic is that it is a festival that will astonish and enlighten you at every turn with more than just sensory assaults, see for yourself:

By Russell Warfield

You’re probably tired of reading that it’s been A Bad Year for festivals, but Standon Calling have had a uniquely rocky twelve months. As bad as it might be to undersell your tickets by a significant margin a la Reading or Leeds, it’s almost unarguably worse to have to firefight the public discovery that the festival’s director had been funding his project through hundreds of thousands of pounds of embezzled money; an act which has wound him up in jail.

It’s to Standon Calling’s eternal testament, then, that the 2011 event even happened at all - and, more to the point, that it was pretty much as marvellous as ever. (And that’s even after a further kick in the teeth in the form of headliners Spiritualized pulling out just a week or so before the event. Kudos to whoever swooped in to take the reins this year – it’s been a thankless task in so many ways, so: thank you).

I was reluctant to even mention the whole Tescos debacle, but it’s ultimately unavoidable insofar as it was plain – when placed in comparison to last year’s event – that the piggy bank was a little drier this year. Ticket prices were up, the line up was arguably a little weaker, one of the stages had shrunk to a tiny little entity, the art instilations were less ambitious. But – and I can hardly stress this ‘but’ enough – it was still Standon Calling (and, to save you the trouble of consulting your thesaurus, it was still fucking amazing).

Hypnotic Brass Ensemble

Sure, the line up was a little more shoestring-budget friendly, but there was still a plethora of absolutely astounding music; spread across a line up which presents one of its greatest strengths in sheer diversity. Saul Williams absolutely killed it, with his blend of intense rap and spoken word; the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble brought a Sunday afternoon crowd to life with their rousing horn arrangements; Azari and III provided an amazing house throwback set (essentially making an infinitely better version of that last Hercules and Love Affair record – who were still pretty vivid in the live setting, however); and Africa Express Soundsystem provided a lively end to proceedings.

But – in spite of a couple of lull in quality acts on paper – the success of Standon Calling is in the literal experience of the weekend. The joy is in the Sunday morning pool dip, the lolling around on the lawn outside the folk tent, the costumes and the people, the late night trips to the cowshed (or the horse box, or the toilet block – yes, all discos) – in short, the festival itself as an indivisible whole. Standon Calling 2011: conclusive proof that throwing all the money in the world at a festival doesn’t make a fucking damn of difference to the people who come, and the fun that they can have.

Leopallooza, by Hannah Wheeler (Daisyrock Photography)

Tucked away in The Wydes of North Cornwall, last weekend hosted one of the UK’s cutest festivals. Leopallooza is only in its 6th year but is growing each year – over 4,000 fans gathered into the usually sheep inhabited field for its two day event this year.

‘The Greatest House Party … In a Field’ was brought together by a team of hardworking volunteers all working completely free, with any profits reinvested into the next year. This attitude encompasses the feel of the festival – a festival made by friends for friends. Leopallooza boasts a relaxed DIY sense whilst still bringing in big talented names.

Saturday kicked off at midday, bringing a huge range of genres to appeal for everyone. Reggae enthusiasts enjoyed Cornwall’s biggest reggae act, Backbeat Soundsystem as well as The Skints from London, whose Marcia Richards has to be one of the most multitalented musicians, combining rapping, soulful vocals, trumpet, keyboard, melodica, flute and guitar into the band’s 30 minute set.

The Crowds saw the entire length of the audience link together to jig along to their bouncing tunes, and Man Like Me made Leopallooza the most spectacular yet for many by stealing the show.

Leopallooza Crowd, by Hannah Wheeler (Daisyrock Photography)

Going late into the Saturday night alternative band Wolf Gang and kiwi rockers The Datsuns kept the music loud and pumping. For those who preferred club life, the new Rampant Rabbit dome replicated an Ibiza rave – excellent for those wanting to burn off some steam. Meanwhile, a car burnout provided excellent heating for ‘pallooza goers feeling the night chill.

The Sunday soother brought the tempo down to chill out and recover from the previous night’s madness. Smoothies, tea, coffee and cake accompanied the acoustic melodies brought to the festival goers by Norwegian artist Jarle Bernhoft, who surprised many with his rhythmical guitar tapping, and Company B getting even the most reluctant jiving in the damp air. However it was James Vincent McMorrow who stole Sunday’s show. A drummer down, James himself stepped in to play the drums whilst holding his amazing vocals to close the weekend.

But we mustn’t forget about some of the quirky delights that also featured at Leopallooza, such as much of the balloon fashion that was spotted in the forms of dresses and wings. Kids fell in love with Box Bot, the cardboard robot, and there was face painting and the conspicuous hanging bra that adorned the stage’s antlers.

Team ‘Pallooza, particularly the founders Lee Ellis and Sam Dunnett, should be proud of their enormous efforts and can surely expect even more of us next year.

By Charlotte Gay. Images by Hannah Wheeler (Daisyrock Photography).

13-15 May, 2011

We live in hard times, friends. Not hard like it was back in the 20s, 30s, 40s and 50s obviously, or even the early 80s of course but you know, bread is pricey these days, so pretty damn hard. The enforced economic cutbacks are far reaching and have inevitably spread to everyone’s favourite indie-cred festival, ATP. Now down to just one May festival from the previous years’ 2, one will become none in 2012 due to a big dip in ticket sales caused by all manner of possible reasons; a perceived lack of quality in the curators and invitees of recent years, too much choice in the festival peak season, general overkill and that phrase much used of late: ‘tightening of the belt’.

FRIDAY

After our first ever traffic issues getting to Butlins and then sorting out an apartment mix up (we’re given non catering accommodation when we ordered otherwise), I am verging on desperate for my first ale of the weekend and this is accompanied by the lo-fi solo ditties of Highlife. It’s a gentle musical introduction, pleasant enough but fairly forgettable. Dent May was a bit of a let down when he was behind his promising ‘magnificent ukulele’, now strumming a standard acoustic, he is even less interesting than before.

At this point, it’s clear to see that numbers are well down on previous festivals (rumours suggest that only 55% of the ticket allocation was sold) and this leads to some pros; MUCH shorter queues at the bar, less packed stages, and some cons too; no Pavilion stage, less atmosphere. Lee Scratch Perry tries his very best to get the smaller crowd whipped up and he’s pretty successful at it. It’s not often you’re in the presence of a supposed legend and while the 70 year old’s archetypal reggae gets my toe-a-tapping and my head-a-bobbing it doesn’t quite get my pulse-a-racing. Extra marks to the stylish pensioner though for wearing the most ostentatious outfit of the weekend; a kind of mashup of a German World War 1 uniform, adorned with Prince style robotic chrome. 

Grouper‘s slight soundscapes are just too minimal to make any kind of connection. Perhaps this is a timing thing following on from Mr Perry but I’ve seen plenty of similar acts who have made a far greater impression from equally slight levels of output. Big Boi, on the other hand, is far from minimal. As the name would suggest, he is big and boisterous and though hip-hop is far from my favourite genre of music, Mr Boi is surprisingly engaging.

SATURDAY

The Meat Puppets (Photo by Peter Harris)

Saturday starts with the footy and the successes of Manchester – this puts a smile on this United fan’s face and on the face of my City following festival accomplice. The Meat Puppets only add to the joy, playing their classic album Up on the Sun in its entirety. Although the album is 26 years old and some of these songs may never have even been played live, the set is a clear front runner for act of the weekend. The brothers Kirkwood clearly still revel in playing live music and they thank Animal Collective for setting up the obstacle course of having to re-familiarise themselves with an album over a quarter of a century old.

Ariel Pink looks like a trouble maker. Awkwardly hunched over, with arms loosely swinging, there’s an air of petulance surrounding him as if he’s always only 30 seconds away from a tantrum. An unlikely front man embodying the stage apprehension of Kurt Cobain with the apparent temperament of Axl Rose; the music however is miles from either. Pink’s Haunted Graffiti are a total anachronism playing music from 2010 which sounds like it’s from 1979 in that era of slight cheese before the big fromage of the new romantics came along. It takes a while to click but when it does, our group all agree that the show is surprisingly enjoyable.

Beach House are an absolute joy. The set list is wisely heavy on Teen Dream and Victoria Legrand’s voice fills the room magnificently, never better than on my favourite song of last year, ‘Zebra’. Kurt Vile and The Violators, in contrast, prove to be disappointingly bland, lacking all the spark that made them a fairly enticing prospect on record. 

At this stage, I am probably less excited about seeing Animal Collective than any of the past ATP curators. I really like Merriweather Post Pavillion but having seen them before and knowing how they work live, ie, they don’t tend to actually play their songs, choosing instead to ‘jam’, improvise and rework, the pull of bed seems equally if not more enticing. But when in Rome…

And to be fair to Panda Bear and co, they work so much better here then when I last saw them. Yes, if you’re waiting to hear ‘the hits’, you are going to be sorely disappointed but the disco party vibe they create is actually pretty good. I don’t manage anywhere near the 90 mins of the set but I’m happy while it lasts.

SUNDAY

Deep Fried Mars Bar

The cut backs strike again Sunday lunch time as we head into Minehead for our traditional Sunday roast in the slightly ramshackle yet charming pub, The Hobby Horse. As we near the door though, our hearts sink with disappointment as we see a pile of unopened post behind it. The Hobby Horse is no more. We find an alternative but it’s just not the same without the drunken locals and scabby carpet. At least my wife is able to continue her somewhat icky tradition of grabbing a deep fried Mars Bar from the local chippy (well, I say icky but they’re actually much better than they look, or smell for that matter).

Later, Group Doueh gives ATP a new unlikely hero. As Doueh and his band belt out their Hendrix flavoured traditional African/Arabian music (yep, really), one of the band’s 3 backing singers OWNS the stage. Possibly the second oldest artist at the festival after Lee Scratch Perry, she shakes her shawled booty across the stage, milking the cheers with a near constant double thumbs-up gesture. Only at ATP! The Entrance Band then bring us back down to earth with a boom of a bass. Paz Lenchantin, previously of Perfect Circle and Zwan is the true lead of this band though she doesn’t sing. Her prominent bass grooves are the anchor for the fairly straight forward psychedelic rock trio. They’re a welcome slice of normality.

The brief taste of normality, however, is skewed again as Prince Rama begin their set. They are a female duo, comprised of simple percussion and keyboard/samples, backed with Far Eastern-tinged vocals. Joining them on stage is a quite beautiful bharatanatyam (classical Indian) dancer who aptly represents the duo’s output. The immersion is only slightly broken when we find that the traditional Indian dancer is called Melissa!

We want to like Tickley Feather more. Annie Sachs is very excited to be here, infectiously interacting with the crowd in between songs. But it’s the songs that let her down today in a set which is far, far too quiet. The potentially pretty music ends up sounding wet and insipid. Sorry to say, but TF are the let down of the weekend.

As the weekend draws to a close we catch 2 more, polar opposite acts. Atlas Sound is gentle and swirly and simple, Bradford Cox once again at ATP, comes over like a shy, bumbling geek. It’s nice and that adjective is all that’s required. Gang Gang Dance throw everything and the kitchen sink into their music, some of it sticks but in general it sounds like a chaotic and often annoying mess. 

I have mixed feelings as we drive home. The dominant one is back ache but that’s to be expected. I am a bit sad that there will be no more May ATPs for the foreseeable future. Minehead has its charms in the spots of pleasant weather that May occasionally brings. But as you may have gathered from the above ramblings, this has not been the strongest ATP in terms of music, in fact, this is easily the weakest lineup of the 7 festivals I’ve been to. It wouldn’t have swayed me from booking next May’s however because regardless of who curates and who is invited, ATP is the only festival of the year which I absolutely cannot miss. I’ll be back in December.

16 April, 2011

It is fitting that on the weekend of the FA Cup Semi-Finals the Pewsey locals hanging on the boughs of branches on the other side of the fence to hear some of the acts at the inaugural Honeyfest remind us of those doing the same at the famous Hereford vs. Newcastle game some 39 years ago.

Damien Rice

Honeyfest was originally scheduled to take place December last year but inclement weather put paid to that and instead it serves as an early prelude to the festival season.  Last year the Wiltshire villagers, utilising the name received funding from the Big Lottery Fund’s Village SOS programme to purchase the lease for their local pub, The Barge Inn, securing its then uncertain future at the heart of the community. The Barge Inn re-opened to the public that very same day and many pints of neon green Alien Abduction were sunk among its freshly painted walls. The BBC has been filming more of the village and others involved so you may be seeing more of the pub later this year.

We unfortunately miss the opening of the festival as our meticulous travel plans are spoilt by some people holding up our train for two minutes by prising the doors open four times and thus making us miss our slot at London Bridge, meaning we miss our train into the countryside by a minute. So thanks for that! We can only speculate how local acts, winners of a battle of the bands competition, Slagerij and Matthew Kilford go down. Judging purely by the amount of merchandise they shift after we arrived, we’d think they were well received. Make your mind up yourself by having a click on their webhomes http://www.myspace.com/matthewkilford and http://www.myspace.com/slagerij420

Marthas & Arthurs are just the kind of band you want to have on stage when you first arrive at a festival; pleasant, melodic and soothing. You’d have to have a heart of black coal to be offended or irked by their music and their boy-girl harmonies made for a fitting soundtrack for our first exploratory wandering around the compact site. We found the organisers had nicely married up the kind of normal festival fair that will be familiar to anyone who has been at an outdoor festival in the past ten years, such as The Pie Minister (or Eric Pickles as he’s known to his friends) alongside the more esoteric crystal skull and mysticisms usually found on the outskirts of Glastonbury.

Hotly-tipped new comers and tipped-to-be-big folk rockers Dry The River sustain the rustic mood. They may soon find themselves wading through the path carved out by Mumford and Sons and will be a feature at many a festival this summer. They delight the crowd with tracks from their self-released EPs and singles such as ‘Lion’s Den’ and ‘New Ceremony’. The crowd are very receptive to their homespun charm and mentions of which songs are favourites of the band’s mothers endeared them to many. After a couple of cheeky ciders in The Barge Inn we are back for The Magic Numbers who know how to keep a festival crowd happy. The double siblings pull out ‘Forever Lost’ and ‘Love Me Like You’ from their first album and delight those in the know with a cover of Neil Young’s ‘Harvest Moon’ for a sing-along by those of a certain age (and some who aren’t.)

For her first UK gig of the year, Laura Marling looks every inch the NME and BRIT Award winning act that she now is, cloaked in a black shoal (and at one point cloaked in far too much pyrotechnic smoke than is strictly required for her brand of folk!) She and her band glide through last year’s ‘Devil’s Spoke’ and ‘I Speak Because I Can’ effortlessly and dip into ‘Ghosts’ and ‘My Manic and I’. It’s hard to think that it was 2007 when she was first playing those songs to crowds and the progression from those to new songs ‘Salinas’ and the quite lovely ‘My Friends’ is something to behold.

Damien Rice rounds the evening off, with a solo performance leading the crowd through as his back-up for ‘Volcano’ and letting them off the work for ‘Blower’s Daughter’ just as the sun slowly begins to sink beneath the trees and the temperature starts to drop. The Magic Numbers and a slightly worse for wear Dry The River return for a mass encore croon along to Dylan’s ‘I Shall Be Released’ and Laughing Len’s ‘Hallelujah’. With that, the day is over and the locals disperse and we hurry back to London contemplating a very early start to the festival season. But when the surroundings, bands, weather and beer are this good who would dare complain?

February 18, 2011

If you had come in near the end of the headline gig by The National and asked, “Blimey, where is the singer?” someone probably would’ve pointed somewhere at the ceiling. Because high up is Matt Berninger, on the balcony, shouting out “I won’t fuck you over, I’m Mr. November” (which added a layer during the Obama–McCain elections and arguably got another layer added to it now that his first presidential term is winding down). On the stage the band is playing Alligator closer ‘Mr. November’ sans Padma Newsome (the Australian hasn’t come along for this leg of the tour apparently) but with Owen Pallett taking over selected violin duties. How Berninger got there (over the chairs) and why he got there (to sing his heart out yet again) seems to have made way for the more immediate question of “How do I get down on that stage again to finish the last two songs?”

Efterklang

While browsing the festival’s website I noticed something that I had already suspected whilst visiting the festival: Bryce Dessner of The National is named as one of the curators. I had suspected this because somehow all the bands seem to be connected to one of the members in the band. As said, Owen Pallett was on the stage during the The National set, but he is also on the bill as solo artist. As are Sharon van Etten, Buke & Gas, Victoire, and Efterklang + Daniel Bjarnason & their Messing Orchestra. This is the core of the travelling circus that is touring The Netherlands under the name of Cross-Linx, which is an annually reoccurring Dutch festival which takes place in four cities over the course of as many nights. Added to this core are Peter Broderick and Basia Bulat. The main band of this festival is The National, who are not only playing as a band, but the Dessner brothers do a sort of improv on guitar as well. The Devendorf Brothers take on DJ duties in Eindhoven and Groningen, while Pallett and Rasmus are behind the decks on one of the other two nights.

Naturally, since it is a festival, some bands are programmed at about the same time. First Efterklang and orchestra take their place in rock venue De Effenaar. Because it is with an orchestra it is something that you won’t always get, and that is what I like about this festival: it takes stuff out of their comfort zone to try. I personally wouldn’t say it always succeeds. The Dessner Brothers‘ improvisation on guitar is mostly noise to me. Apparently I missed out on the more layered and structured first part, which a Dutch colleague who saw the whole concert of Phillip Glass and other contemporary classical music duly noted. By entering the small room when they were already halfway I got the short end of the stick.

In the more fancy Muziekgebouw, which usually hosts classical music and opera, I decide to not walk around and stick to the main room. Owen Pallett plays in a different part of the building, but last time in this country he was ace so there wasn’t much surprise left. Sharon van Etten, however, is playing her first gig in The Netherlands. The young singer/songwriter has the unenviable task to entertain a crowd that is obviously there to hear The National. Her fragile songs and sometimes awkward stage presence (reminding me terribly of performance artist/writer Miranda July in how she talks and the anxiety she exhumes) drown in the chatter of the crowd.

Her last song is perhaps a new song for which she hasn’t written down the arrangements yet. Totally a cappella she does it, sometimes seemingly counting the beat or hearing the riffs in her head. As I said, I love the festival and their artists for doing things out of the box, but perhaps this was so far out of the box that she wandered into hostile territory. Because if she hadn’t heard the chattering crowd before, she certainly heard it now. Let me say though that I thought she performed admirably. Her songs are nice, she has a good voice, and it does seem she kind of has the same anxious world view like a Miranda July.

The National

Then it is The National time. A lot of the material is from their most recent album High Violet (they are touring it after all), but instead of complementing that with a sort of “greatest hits” they tend to rotate songs in and out of the setlist. It almost is like collecting baseball cards now, buying a package in the hope you get that rookie card you are still missing. The card that has eluded me for some time now is ‘About Today’, which they always manage to play the day before but not when I’m attending. Aside from the common cards (The High Violet singles, ‘Mr. November’, the singles from Boxer) they put some rarities in for every crowd.

The people in Eindhoven get some of these uncommon and rare songs as well. They are fortunate to hear ‘Wasp Nest’ off of the Cherry Tree EP and ‘Abel’, which was on the band’s Alligator release. The rare card that the erudite crowd will probably quickly sleeve and occasionally dust off is ‘The Geese of Beverly Road’, the first song of the encore which puts the narrator in a sort of late night high with Berninger singing “Love, we’ll get away with it. We’ll just run like we’re awesome, totally genius.” What comes after in the encore is also impressive, though not quite as unexpected. The band really has developed ‘Terrible Love’ into a juggernaut live, and ‘Mr. November’ is a great song that always gets the crowd going.

For the people in the audience that had never seen the band live before (or live clips of them on YouTube) were probably in for a treat as well. Because the basic blueprint is searing guitars, a propelling drum and bass, and a singer who seems to actually live in the world the songs create. Add to that the horn section of two and the help of Owen Pallett, and the band is simply an impressive sight to behold. Not that this was the most perfect performance ever. I would’ve loved Padma to be there, and although I like a bit of crowd interaction I’m simply not sure whether asking the crowd to clap along every other song is a step forward on previous shows. Personally I also would’ve preferred an encore different from the sing-along acoustic version of ‘Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks’, which admittedly is highly subjective. The band itself suggested with a smile this had to be their worst night of stage banter ever, though the awkward in-jokes have their charm.

Aside from the minor caveats mentioned above, this was simply a very good show. People who are relatively new to the band get a forceful performance. The Dessners really work their guitars, and Matt certainly provides the energy on the energetic songs, and that emotional yet detached delivery on the slower ones. The more avid fans got a treat in Eindhoven with ‘The Geese of Beverly Road’ and with yet another one hundred percent effort. I think the festival in itself is a delightful little festival that gives artists the chance to just try stuff out, and I must say everything was arranged very well. Good job by all involved, really. It’s so good to occasionally be able to say that, no?

End of the Road Festival

September 10-12, 2010

The natural post-festival chat which keeps revellers awake on their long journeys home invariably revolves around the pros and cons of the festival. It’s telling that the worst we could come up with on our drive home from End of the Road was that it rained for a while on Saturday morning. The organisers seem to have gone out their way to improve every facet of this cosy festival but even they can’t do anything about the great British “summer”. With the cons so easily dealt with, what of the pros?

Well, at End of the Road, the non-music highlights are perhaps as important to the overall vibe and experience as the music. Where else can you see peacocks wandering around the festival grounds? Where else do you get a choice of at least 10 holistic remedies including Indian head message, an osteopath and deep tissue massage (my back’s favourite part of the weekend)? Where else do you get a choice of flawlessly good food including Arabian Boureks (crispy, filled pasty type thing), whole rotisserie chicken and spuds (my belly’s favourite part of the weekend) and spicy Jamaican jerk chicken? Then there’s the quality (mostly) of the toilets and how often they’re emptied, the family friendly vibe, cocktails including the fieriest Bloody Mary (renamed as a Scary Mary) that has ever passed these lips, the hidden gems in the wooded area such as the free for all piano area, a light up disco dance floor and a games area. If you’re bored at End of the Road, there’s something very, very wrong with you.

So, to the music. The Ruby Sons kick things off nicely in the Big Top tent with an energetic set. Their calypso-pop really is a perfect opener to the weekend’s musical proceedings. Elliott Brood keeps the momentum going with a full on, toe tapping, thigh slapping run through of their countrified rock. Freelance Whales are the first genuine standout of the weekend, promising much with their melody rich pop and delivering in spades. They’re followed by a rare dip in form with the oh so American, God fearing ditties of Jessica Lea Mayfield. Nothing wrong with her performance and she’s amiably sweet and self-effacing but the music does nothing for me. Wolf Parade however are unequivocally ace. This is exactly how a ‘super group’ should be run with Spencer Krug and Dan Boeckner taking it in turns to pelt out their extremely danceable rock tunes and although their voices are fairly similar, their delivery is totally different with Krug hunched over the keyboard like a mad scientist and Boeckner all swagger and swinging hips.

Modest Mouse are the weekend’s first headliners. I don’t know a great deal of their music but they go down well with myself and the majority of the two-thirds full crowd who noticeably up the noise and activity levels for the band’s biggest hit, ‘Float On’. My personal headliners follow next with The New Pornographers. Nobody else makes music like The New Pornos anymore – catchy, grin inducing sunshine pop with big hooks and massive choruses and they end the day perfectly.

How do you annoy a hillside full of festival goers raring to start their second day? You open the main stage’s output with 5 solid minutes of ear piercing guitar feedback. These kind of raucous shenanigans are just about acceptable at the end of a band’s set if they’re noisy, guitar smashing anarchists but Forest Fire are no such band. They play fairly plodding, middle of the road country tinged tunes which are pleasant if forgettable. They really ought to consider downsizing to a trio as Mr Feedback seems to think he’s in a different band. P45 on the way I reckon. But perhaps he could apply for a job playing with Snowman because they are pretty raucous. They’re also one of the revelations of the weekend. They’re loose and noisy and not at all like any other band playing at the festival which works absolutely in their favour. Their manic, diminutive keyboard player bounces around the stage as if it’s electrified.

Phosphorescent and Iron & Wine both captivate the main stage with their respective, good time, head-bobbing country and hushed, lo-fi gems. Beards-a-plenty too which seem prevalent all weekend.

After seeing the original set which got Monotonix banned from ATP and then the second ATP set after said ban was overturned, which in turn got that same ban reinstated – I was beginning to wonder if this is a band that purposefully court controversy in a bid to hide what may be a weakness in their musical output. Well, on the evidence of today’s performance; not so. It’s a massive credit to these middle-east mad men that they keep their set so tight despite playing its entirety either lifted above the crowd or atop the recycling bins 50 yards from their original starting point. Pure entertainment.

Wintersleep sound oddly weedy and un-engaging and the full Tipi Tent gradually empties to make their way to today’s headliners, Yo La Tengo. Again, the crowd size is surprisingly small, though I suppose Yo La Tengo are far from household names. They’re so easy going that they’re unlikely to have gained many new fans tonight but still, somehow, as an often meandering trio, they fill the stage with an effortless, feelgood vibe. Once again, it’s the follow up to the headliner which manages to seal the evening in a more notable manner; it’s Caribou tonight and they perk up End of The Road with a set of big beats and duelling drums.

Sunday is our day of rest. The sun is out (mostly), the peacocks are cawing and my back is feeling a good deal better after my massage. Dylan LeBlanc, The Antlers and Yuck are all pleasant and apt backing for such a day but it’s not until early evening that Sunday’s music offers somebody of note. And what a somebody! Olof Arnalds is super kooky but also incredibly sweet and likeable. Her music is slight and gentle and she switches between English and her native Icelandic tongue effortlessly. It’s not the tightest performance of the weekend, in fact, Arnalds is probably the least polished of all the acts but her banter and mid song giggles make most of the tent fall in love with her just a little bit.

Dour Scots, Errors, get the Big Top bouncing with their electro post rock, warming us all up nicely for the weekend’s final headliner Wilco. Of the three festival headliners, Wilco are the band I’m least looking forward to but sometimes the best festival acts are those that surprise and confound expectations; Wilco are extremely good. There’s real craft in these songs and the variety of styles on show mean that despite feeling achey and tired, we are kept entertained well enough to be able to ignore our pains. It’s a fine ending to End of the Road, my favourite festival of the year and quite possibly my favourite festival full stop.

Green Man Festival

This review has to start with a total confession of my journalistic bias: Green Man Festival is my favourite place on Earth. Consider my hat firmly in the ring on that one. Just like kids hanging up their stockings for Santa, or lonely middle-aged housewives hearing the thumping beat of the X-Factor opening music, the foreboding doom of black cloud moving over the horizon of an otherwise kind-of-dry summer fills me with an excitement that can only mean one thing: Green Man is coming.

Holding an outdoor event in the middle of a Welsh mountain range is asking for a bit of drizzle at the very least, but this year brings rain to an unprecedented degree. When I say “rain”, I don’t just mean “heavy rain” or even “really heavy rain”. I mean some serious, turning-it-up-to-eleven, next-level biblical shit. The sort of Noah’s ark weather that could get a festival of a less steely constitution cancelled. So it’s to Green Man’s glowing testament, then, that in spite of the weather (and, to some degree, even because of it) this year’s festival is every bit as magical, fulfilling, groovy, relaxed, mischievous and downright brilliant as any other year.

Needless to say, the shelter-providing Far Out Tent is pretty popular during the downpours, and that’s where I spend most of my Friday with synth-led party-starting bands keeping hips shaking and hands clapping all afternoon. Later, stage headliners Fuck Buttons pull the crowd into a far deeper euphoria with their destructive volume and ever-towering walls of noise. By taking their early-career propensity for punishing abrasion and combining it with a more dance-friendly approach, the live experience of the Fuck Buttons has evolved into a powerful and transcendent force to be reckoned with.

Thankfully, Saturday night at the Main Stage is a somewhat drier (if not less muddy) affair, meaning that Billy Bragg gets the fifteen-thousand strong sing along that his working class anthems were written for before making way for the jaw-dropping stage show of the Flaming Lips. Deftly combining their more hard-edged new material with stripped down sing-along versions of old classics, the clearly joyous band spends their hour spewing an obscene amount of confetti, streamers and balloons whilst hammering out the tunes. Being near the front and in the thick of it is life-affirming to be sure, but you can’t help but wish that you could simultaneously be at the top of the arena’s natural amphitheatre so as to take in the full panoramic view of the Lips’ multicoloured volcano set against the backdrop of the stunning Black Mountain range – a view you won’t find at any other festival in the world.

Sunday evening’s headline performance from Joanna Newsom – who has regularly played the festival since its humble beginnings – is an unsurprisingly mesmerising affair, despite a new wave of rain and a visible sense of fatigue within some of the crowd. Going by in what feels like a flash, Joanna offers up material from all three of her albums, including a good number of her 10-minute-plus epics as well as – to the delight of the crowd – some old favourites like ‘Peach, Plum, Pear’.  With Newsom’s vocal timbre enriched by a flawless backing band of rhythm and strings, the crowd falls strikingly silent for the duration of the set – utterly enraptured by the spellbinding nature of the band’s swooping embrace.

Despite this year’s cathartic midnight burning of the green man (for those who don’t know – a giant made of foliage sagely overlooks the festival site) being literally dampened by worsening rain, the towering flames and stunning fireworks still provide a fitting conclusion to what remains one of the most undeniably special weekends of the festival calendar. How special exactly, you ask? Well, allow me to put it this way. During his Saturday night set with the Flaming Lips (after fifteen thousand people join him in impersonating bears, frogs, helicopters and tornadoes) Wayne Coyne himself declares – with a sincerity that can’t be faked – that Green Man is the best festival he has played in over 10 years. That’s how special. Beat that Latitude.

Sonisphere Festival

July 30-August 1, 2010

For a festival that’s only two years old, Sonisphere UK 2010 has been a success in almost every way. The traveling European music festival made a stop at Knebworth, England this past weekend, treating 55,000 rock and metal music fans to some of the biggest, baddest names in rock’n’roll history, including Iggy and the Stooges, Alice Cooper, Iron Maiden, Rammstein and other influential rockers.

The sold out three-day festival is remarkably well-organised and surprisingly tame. On the first night of arrival, before the live musical acts begin, the campsites are quiet and the main festival area is deserted by 2am – which, for a festival, is an early night. Besides a silent disco and some rock karaoke (think a tent full of metalheads singing along to Guns N’ Roses), there’s not much reason to be there yet – except for scoring a good place to pitch a tent.

Friday kicks off full force, though, as campers are woken up at 10am by Rage Against the Machine’s ‘Killing In the Name Of’ blasting over the speakers. The rest of the afternoon is lacking in excitement, though, as the main Saturn Stage acts don’t begin until 5pm. After performances from Delain and Tsurias, fans wait rather impatiently through Europe’s set, sticking around until ‘The Final Countdown’ is played – it’s clear that’s the song everyone is waiting to hear. And for Europe fans, the fun continues, as a marching band donning striped trousers and mullet wigs play the song while marching around the festival for the remainder of the weekend.

Unfortunately, we miss Gary Numan – we would have loved to hear ‘Cars’. But we make it back to the Saturn Stage just in time for the night’s headliner, Alice Cooper. His first festival appearance for nearly 30 years is nothing but perfect. Not only do fans get to hear ‘School’s Out’ twice (as the first and last songs), but the shock-rocker’s set is full of death-related stunts and props, including his rather famous guillotine act. No matter how many times this guy dies on stage, not once does his performance suffer. Even in a red straightjacket, he manages to impress every single person in the crowd. Let’s hope he doesn’t wait another few decades to make his next festival appearance.

Saturday’s wake-up call (for late risers) is to the tune of Family Force 5’s dance party at the Apollo Stage – which later sees performances from Papa Roach (again, the majority of the crowd seems interested in their final song, ‘Last Resort’) and Placebo (who play a good mix of old and new material, as well as a cover of Nirvana’s ‘All Apologies, and put on a hell of a show that is one of our favourites of the weekend). Good Charlotte also make an appearance, but we decide to give the Bohemia Tent’s comedy series a try, with some hilarious bits from transvestite metalhead Andrew O’Neill and Australian funnyman-with-a-piano Tim Minchin.

Brian Molko, Placebo

Rammstein’s Saturday night headline performance is over-the-top and brilliant. Their first ever UK festival appearance is full of fireworks and flame-throwers, and the German industrial metal band pump out some heavy foreign tunes. At one point, a “punter” jumps on stage, catches on fire, and is “rescued” by some stage technicians. It’s all staged – but it looks convincing and leaves us a bit rattled. They close out their set with a cannon that shoots foam and confetti at the crowd, and keyboardist Flake crowd surfs on a mini boat.

Rammstein

By Sunday, despite being exhausted and in need of a good shower, we’re ready for some of the best performances to come. Before Alice In Chains, Slayer and Pendulum arrive, we’re treated to a thirty-minute set from The Fab Beatles, a cover band that manage to inspire a huge crowd of rockers to dance and sing along to ‘Twist And Shout’ and ‘Hey Jude’. When Iggy Pop later plays with the Stooges, he proves that at 63, he’s still got a whole lot of rock and rebellion in him, and he doesn’t plan on stopping any time soon. He might have sold out in many’s eyes after signing on to sell car insurance, but that doesn’t make him any less of a rock and roll legend.

Iggy and the Stooges

Closing out the weekend are Iron Maiden, who play for two hours (unfortunately, though, it’s heavy on new material). Although we would have personally enjoyed seeing Iggy and the Stooges or Alice Cooper play for a full two hours instead, Iron Maiden prove to be deserving of the coveted end slot.

Sonisphere UK 2010 is full of amazing live music, well-structured performance scheduling, genuine music fans and a surprising amount of families with young children. This festival just goes to show that no one is too young or too old to enjoy metal, and we really look forward to Sonisphere 2011.