I left the hostel after a few hours kip. “It’s the last day” I was thinking to myself, could it really be over already? It felt like I was just settling in.
I made my way, the same as yesterday to Blind Tiger. Distracted by the smell of the free barbeque I’m not sure I really paid enough attention to Andy Shauf, a Canadian bloke with a guitar doing his thing. Listening again back home, I wished I had paid more attention because his songs are pretty good.
From wishing I had paid more attention to wishing I hadn’t bothered at all in one step. Tristesse Contemporaine were plating at Bermuda TRiangle, a long, thin venue which was hard to see to the stage. Tristesse Contemporaine were a less music and more just plain noise, repetitive drivel.
So far, no good. Two bands, one I forgot to pay attention to, the next was so bad that they have the distinction of being the only band which I didn’t watch to the end of their set. The next band more than made up for it though. Lazytalk were fun. A bouncy band which got the crowd on their feet. Even those standing still on the side, leaning against the bar, couldn’t help but tap a toe or nod a head along with the music. The front man had a swagger about him with his mirrored sunglasses and confident smile that drew the whole crowd in. Their cover of Dawn Penn‘s You Don’t Love Me was fantastic.
After Lazytown I was walking out of the festival tent and noticed the noise coming out of the Speigeltent, the other tent in the pop up part of the festival. The queue wasn’t that long and even though it was one-in-one-out I persevered and got in to see the last few songs of a set by Disraeli & The Small God’s. I was so glad that I had stayed for this. Think The Streets, Morcheeba and Portishead having a trip-hop-indie-gypsy-rap baby. This was something unique and well worth listening to and after listening back home, something that is really only justified live.
Having only just got into the Spiegeltent when the set finished I decided to stay for whoever the next act is. Turns out it was a chap called Billy Lockett. A talented gentleman who plays both the guitar and the piano, although not at the same time. He finished his set with a cover of The Lumineers and their only proper hit Ho Hey, which gives you an idea of the direction he was gone in. He is very insistent that the audience clap along to everything. He was also very keen to tell everyone how he has been played on Radio 1. Get Him!
Being very lazy I decided to get a sausage roll and then do very little moving by going back tot the festival hub. Perhaps I could have been a bit more adventurous but the late nights and early mornings were starting to catch up with me and I really didn’t fancy the walk. When Carnival Youth came on I wasn’t all that impressed although I was going to stick through it and remain looking interested if only to counteract the incredibly rude girl infront of me who continually rolled her eyes and faked a yawn at least twice a minute throughout the whole set. There wasn’t anything wrong with the music persay, it just wasn’t pushing anyones buttons. It wasn’t just me. You could see the glazed over look on the eyes on nearly everyone in the audience. They were clearly going for the indie rock image with some of them wearing suits and of course the obligatory moustached band member.
Not learning my lesson I stayed a bit longer and watched Pale Grey. These were a bouncy bunch of Belgians who just needed to turn the mics up a bit. This was followed by Lay Low, wh in my mind was trying to be Björk and failing (I might just be thinking this because I know she is from Iceland), to be honest the girl couldn’t really sing all that well!
Glass Owls were a bit of a disappointment because I was expecting to see Glass Animals… again. They were perfectly good indie rockers who I’m sure will do well on the pub circuit, entertaining in pubs and clubs for a few years before they realise they aren’t going to make it big and all get a job in a bank.
I moved on after this and caught the end of Powder Blue at Audio. It’s easy to see why the descriptions of them say chilled psychedelic rock. It hits the nail of the head. They have something of a Warpaint vibe about them, which, if you have the same tastes in music as me, can only be a good thing. Unfortunately I only caught the end of the set.
I walked along the sea front, photo-bombed someones holiday snaps and to Digital to see FTSE. Today was beginning to be panning out as a bit of a waste what with all the crap at the festival hub in the afternoon and FTSE didn’t help. This is where live music meets club music and I thought how your standard raver or clubber doesn’t really mix musically with most live music and I seemed to have stumbled onto the rare cross over. I have to say that it really wasn’t my bag, especially after the MC started telling the crowd how crap we all were because we weren’t raving like a good’n. I felt like going up to the stage and pointing out that it was 7 p.m. and most of us have been listening to indie rock all afternoon, how does he expect us all to jump straight out of one frame of mind into another, and in any case the more clubland scene that this will go down well at don’t even open their doors until 10 p.m. usually. What was he expecting. In any case he finished the set by telling the crowd to “Fuck off”. So I did.
French For Rabbits were the next band and one of the few bands on my mental list of bands I needed to try and see this weekend. On my way from Digital to Komedia I tried to remember what they were like. I remember listening to them online and I remember enjoying listening to them on youTube. I did not remember what they sounded like though. It was heavenly. Their own website says “Somewhat hidden away, in the seaside village of Waikuku Beach, New Zealand you will find the haunting dream-folk duo”. Dream Folk is spot on her voice is something special. I know I have said this a lot over these last few posts but it really was a highlight of the entire weekend for me. Also they were great between tracks while tuning and swapping guitars they were very funny. Two thumbs up from me.
I stayed in Komedia for Young Summer. It’s clear that Young Summer has ambition. The “band” is one chap on an electro-percussion device while everything else was pre recorded on a laptop, leaving the front woman, presumably called Summer, to sing her heart out. And sing she does, not in the sweet twee way that French For Rabbits did, in a much more sexy, confident Lana-Del-Ray-esque bold voice. I think I still prefer French For Rabbits out of the two though.
It’s getting to the point in the evening where I have seen all the bands that I wanted to see and now it’s just time to take pot luck and go for what’s on nearby and what hasn’t started yet. This notion took me back up the road to the Brighthelm Center where Polish Rebeka was about to start. I once new a guy who really over used the word “sick” to mean anything which is good and whenever I catch myself using the term I can’t help but think of him. He popped up in my mind a lot during the set. It’s funny, isn’t it how some bands are wicked, while others are sublime, some are fantastic and another group are sick. I can’t think why I put Rebeka in the sick group but they defiantly are. I felt myself moving through the crowd throughout the set. I started off quite close to the back and ended up nearly on the stage with the band.
I took up residence for the rest of the night at the Dome Studio. I walked in there with the intention of watching one band and then moving on, then I saw Martin for m last nights party at the hostel, the one in the red coat. I remembered immediately that he had wanted to see a band called trans (when I mean immediately I mean as soon as he had reminded me). Trans would be playing later on. For now though it was You Are Wolf, a folk act which uses loops and electronic aids to layer up a giant sound built out of hitting pots and pans together with playing an eclectic array of odd instruments which shouldn’t go together, but it really works. All of her songs are from an album completely about birds. I love an album with a concept rather than just 12 individual songs shoved on one disc. Sadly She isn’t on Spotify.
You knew that you would have to be prepared for the unexpected with Arc Iris from the moment they walked on stage. The costumes were out of this world and the music was just as pot-smokingly out there. Three Keyboards a cello a drum kit and a trumpet by less people than there are instruments musically sometimes working in harmony and sometimes juxtaposed to one another. You might not agree with the sound of some of it but you have to admire the talent of anyone who can play three different keyboards with two people, arms intertwined in the most strange of fashions.
After Arc Iris, whose set seemed to go on for ages, finally Trans came after an age long sound check, which was a waste of time because for the first few songs they were still adjusting the levels. Martin, who I mentioned earlier, was a complete Trans nut, he told me the complete back story to all of the band members before they came on. He had got right to the front so that he could be nearer his idol, Bernard Butler of Suede fame, “the one who inspired him to pick up the guitar in the first place”. I could see him flapping about manically at the front Bernard who eventually snapped and told him words to the effect of “I know now shut up”. Afterwards I asked him what he was doing, apparently he was trying to give him instructions to relay to the sound guy. Anyway, after a few hit and miss tracks they finally got the audio spot on and played for nearly an hour over their allotted time, not that anyone cared. It was proper rock and I loved it. It was a perfect way to end the festival. I had fun, Martin had fun, I think the rest of the audience had fun and you could tell that the band were having fun to. Everyone in that room just loved being there and isn’t that what live music is all about?
Martin and I walked back to the hostel together, pretentiously reviewing the gig we had just seen with overly complicated words (what do you expect, I’m a blogger as you know and he is a student music journalist). We talked back at the bar for a bit until a contingent of those back at the hostel decided to join the manager and wander off into the night and find a gay club to finish off the weekend. Not being my cup of tea I stayed back and had a chat with a Czech, an Italian and Andrew the sommelier with occasional input from Irish and Australian from last night.
We all said our farewells in the morning and that was that for another year. You know you have to walk to the station and go home, but you don’t want to. It hadn’t even begun and it was all over. Already I’m waiting for next year.