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Also nominated are curly-topped comedian and fan of my mate Dave's manhood, Simon Amstell, and the winner of BBC's Crap Von Trapp series '...Maria?', Connie Fisher.
To vote for Archie Bronson Outfit click this link.
Richard Brown (View Original Article)
Tickets will be valid for Clinic's next London show in February or can be fully refunded from point of purchase.
Richard Brown (View Original Article)
Well, they're ploughing their own furrow, and through a swamp at that. A swamp with a monster in it. This is a growling blues thing with a pleasingly menacing side to it.
Richard Brown (View Original Article)
Richard Brown (View Original Article)
Two nights of sold out rock blues noise were about to start at the ICA, but then you find out the support is Amusement Parks On Fire and you go `hmm...`. Why `hmm...`? Well, when the person accompanying you bumps into a mate who says "Oh you must come see this band, they have one song that is shit and they play it over and over" you don`t really run from the bar to the stage. The contrast between Amusement Parks On Fire and Archie Bronson Outfit couldn`t be clearer. Where Amusements sounded like bits and bobs of other bands, Archie harked back to all the bands that they are accused of being but build on the sound tenfold. Where Amusement looked down at the floor with a cooler than thou glow about them, Archie work their socks off. The difference was clear, Archie put in a large amount of work sounding right and exact and very forceful. If it isn`t Sam Windett`s intense, judding motion as he concentrates singing, or Dorian Hobday practically fucking his bass while playing it, then Mark Cleveland on drums banging them with forces that probably made the skins shit themselves that displays the strength and power of Archie Bronson live.
Combine this with the urgency of the songs from `Derdang Derdang` and you have a live experience that hits in all the right places. For once they are a band that you are damn happy play their songs exactly how they were originally recorded, giving us all a glimps of how much passion went into tracks like `Cherry Lips` and `Dead Funny`.
Don`t let Archie Bronson Outfit get away before you see them. If you love guitar music then you will love Archie. Forget Amusement Parks On Fire, unlike Archie Bronson Outfit, they`ll be forgotten in music history.
Richard Brown (View Original Article)
Base camp was established on Friday evening; heavy inbound traffic meant I missed some of the earlier scheduled acts for the day, bur rather than run around like a headless chicken trying to play catch-up, I decided to take it easy, get fed, get my bearings and gear up for Massive Attack.
As the night enveloped us, the Bristolian downbeat collective took to the stage and commenced with standout recent track 'False Flags', silhouetted by neon screens showing various banners of the world, and it's clear from the offset that current world policy is on Robert '3D' Del Naja's mind; it's not long before the Bush-bashing begins, but, if anything, this angry sentiment fuels their performance, particularly during the incendiary 'Safe From Harm'. Unsettling bass rumbled off the stage and through the ground into our feet as they pulse their way through the majority of their recent best-of collection, bringing out long-time collaborators Horace Andy, Shara Nelson & Liz Frazer to perform the delicate ethereal vocals which compliment 3D & Daddy G's dark lines of truth. Del Naja informs us that despite our good cheer it might get 'a bit depressing' - oh we know. You come to see this band fully aware you're on a 'coaster going down, for like the phoenix, it's only in the flames you can be reborn. A killer encore of 'Inertia Creeps', 'Unfinished Sympathy' (still one of the best songs ever), and a colossally chaotic 'Angel' completed the set in devastating fashion. Almost worth the ticket price alone.
The rain, though predicted and certainly not light, confined itself to the twilight hours, and while wellingtons were Saturday's must-have fashion item, the skies were kind for most of the day. Camp Yellow was but a short walk from the main stages' entrance, and a plethora of produce was available to the hungry punter. Far from the dodgy burger vans that usually cater to festival-goers, I was pleased to discover a wide range of food on offer, including Mexican, noodles, coffee & buns, and my personal favourite, the Pieminister van, who will serve you a delicious proper pie, mash 'n' peas for under 10 euro.
After comparisons with my own band were raised, I felt it prudent to check out the Archie Bronson Outfit in the Foggy Notions tent to begin the day, and despite being a tad aloof they delivered a raucous drone-laden bluesy stomper of a set. If you're into the kind of infectious Southern-tinged deltarock peddled by the likes of the White Stripes, get a hold of this lot's current long player, 'Derdang Derdang'.
I caught the tail end of the irrepressibly electro Gary Numan's set, and needless to say for a lot of thirtysomethings a good time was had. Hell, even those not completely familiar with Gazza's back catalogue were gettin' down to 'Are Friends Electric?', thanks to being sampled by the Sugababes a few years ago on bootleg hit 'Freak Like Me'. If James Brown is the godfather of soul, is Numan the godfather of synthpop? For these '80s revellers, let it be so.
Next up was possibly my gig of the festival, Broken Social Scene. This stellar Canadian supergroup's existence was always tenuous, and while they remained together long enough to put out and tour two outstanding albums, commitments to their own bands were always threatening to come to the fore, and did so this weekend, the last date of their current tour, after which they would go on 'indefinite hiatus'. Having already experienced their live set back home in Belfast, I knew what to expect, but the moment the glorious opening chords to 'KC Accidental' burst forth like flowers in springtime, you are IN. Never before have I witness a band with such joyous identity make such joyous music, and possibly I won't ever again. From the easy breeze of 'Shoreline' to the handclaps on 'Stars and Sons' and the music-box innocence of 'Anthems For A 17-Year-Old Girl', that tent contained more happy per square metre than has ever been registered for the hour they were on. Closing the set with 'Ibi Dreams Of Pavement', Kevin Drew calls for the assembled crowd to scream as one, not for them, but for us, and that moment has been frozen in my head since it occurred. Here's hoping this isn't the end and they make time for BSS again in the future.
The somewhat reclusive DJ Shadow hasn't played in Ireland for 4 years, a fact he freely admits later in the set, and so the Electric Arena tent is packed full, undoubtedly by fans/worshippers of his seminal completely sampled debut album '...Endtroducing'. His new album has taken almost as long to make and hits the shelves in the next couple of weeks, and all were eager for a taste of the new material. After an opening speech slightly marred by a dodgy mic, the man his parents named Josh Davis informed us he would be playing some new stuff, and some old stuff too. True to his word, the highlights from '...Endtroducing' and second album 'The Private Press' were rolled out and expertly mixed to a crazy cut-out style video montage, and sandwiched between were some cuts from new LP 'The Outsider', featuring special guest vocals from hitherto unknown folkie Chris James and Lateef The Truth Speaker from Lyrics Born and Blackalicious. Apparently influenced by the still relatively regionalised San Francisco hip-hop variation known as 'hyphy', Shadow's new tracks come off sounding considerably more poppy & less cerebral than the last two albums, and while I choose to reserve judgement until the album is out, I hope this doesn't mark his slide into being 'just another big-name producer'. As the title of the new album hints at, he's always been different than the rest, and up til now that has worked in his favour. Interrupting closer 'Midnight In A Perfect World' to tell us he has to split, he leaves playing the track that will hopefully not be his only legacy.
At this time the pies were calling once again so I crossed the fields in time to see a snippet of Bloc Party's set. A year ago I stated that they were close to being Britain’s Most Awkward Band, but perhaps with time and gracing a few more stages they'd grow into it. Now they're a few steps higher up the bill, but seemingly the same wallflowers they always were. "We're not going to let a little raaaaain ruin things for us, are we?" frontman Kele intones several times, and though it's slightly cringeworthy to hear, he's correct, as despite the drizzle, the post-punk tinged tracks from Silent Alarm sound just as judderingly jubilant, and if new material like "Waiting For The 7:18" is anything to go by, the forthcoming album will be worth a look-in.
The Soulwax Nite Versions experience is one that I've savoured twice up until this point, but Sparks were due on in the opposing tent. A choice of brothers: Mael or Dewaele? Wacky cabaret or dance-rock fusion? In the end, my allegiance went to the Belgians, but this turned out to have been the wrong decision. 40 minutes I waited for them to reveal themselves in the Bodytonic tent, but nothing. I could only surmise that either they were either severely abusing their current status as remix kings / alt-dance overlords, or they had utilized one too many sound-bending gadgets in their setup and it had blown a fuse. Much as I wanted to feel the remixology, their tardiness had messed up my schedule, and for that heinous crime there is no forgiveness. I left and made my way back to the main stage for New Order.
Another band I saw last year, apparently jovially comfortable with their position as elder statesmen of indie; Barney & Hookey get on like two blokes having a swift half at the local on a Sunday afternoon, good-naturedly berating each other for being past it and in bad need of a pair of slippers and mug of Ovaltine. They’re even comically introduced as "four lads who changed the face of pop music - The Beatles... only joking, it's New Order!". It's all tomfoolery of course - songs like 'Krafty' and 'Waiting For The Siren's Call' from the recent album of the same name sound perfectly placed next to classics like 'Regret' and 'Temptation'. "I can't believe we were going to drop that from the set", Barney exclaims after a top performance of 'True Faith'. "Think we'll keep it in now," - damn right Mr. Sumner, it's me favourite and all. Joy Division's 'Transmission' and 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' are included, with a massive singalong for the latter, and a barnstorming 'Blue Monday' closed the set. Essential.
Others were keen to stay up & party with Groove Armada or 2ManyDJs, but I was tired, cold and wet, so I scampered back to my tent, pausing for a brief foray into the Blue Room. This was a large-ish white dome structure on the edge of the camp, sponsored by O2 and worth mentioning because it played a very pleasing esoteric selection of tunes throughout the day and night. It was arranged in a circle formation with the DJ at the front and raised benches around the outside, lending it a club-meets-Roman-Colosseum vibe, and also briefly there was a vampish performance involving a very camp man singing and writhing to an ambient dance track while being noosed by two scantily clad girls in tight leather. Enough flesh was exposed to warrant a girl near dragging her transfixed boyfriend out the door and admonishing him outside, something I found entirely too amusing at the time, but then again I had been drinking cheap cider.
The drizzle was back on Sunday morning, but we BBQ-ed anyway protected by thin plastic ponchos and swapped tales of the previous nights. The word IDMcore was invented, among other things. All was dry again at 2pm so we headed back in for the promised spectacle of DJ Grazzhoppa's DJ Big Band, which I had envisioned in my head as some kind of explosion in a Technics factory, but turned out to be 12 DJs lined up mixing various samples together with a live saxophonist to create stoner soundtrack music. There was a relatively impressive solo performance by Grazzhoppa himself, but having an inkling about DJing myself, I couldn't help wonder why, novelty value aside, there needed to be so bloody many of them. Now that WAS too many DJs. (I made the same quip on the day and I make no apology for it. Groan all you like.)
Judging by the considerable silence during the call-&-response segment of their set, the EP audience weren't exactly down with the finer details of hip-hop-history, but all that was set bang-to-rights as Grandmaster Melle Mel & Scorpio from the Furious Five gave us a guided tour of the classix from back in the day in what was undoubtedly the most funtastic set of the festival. Clearly having a ball, Mel & Scorpio led all us honky boys and girls through 'White Lines', 'The Message', 'Rapper's Delight' - a veritable hip-hop 101. 'Muscles' Melle Mel also took great enjoyment in showing us his moves 'n' poses, and taking the mick out of Vanilla Ice, which is his undeniable right as a hip-hop hall-of-famer. In addition they paid respect to their fallen heroes, and dropped the tracks which they claimed were rockin' the block parties way back when, including Madonna's 'Holiday', and bizarrely 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'. We were all wiggas after that. 24 years of hip-hop, suckas.
Back to the tent for a small allotment of time-out. Next up, Elbow. I've been a fan since they released their sparkling melancholy debut 'Asleep In The Back’, and have since followed it up with two equal feats of soaring yet intimate melody, 'Cast Of Thousands' and last year's 'Leaders Of The Free World'. During the sunny interval they occupy the stage, a buoyant Guy Garvey leads his cohorts through such tender missives as 'Fugitive Motel', 'Red' and 'Newborn', as well as the anthemic 'Forget Myself' and the Bush-baiting 'Leaders Of The Free World'. "If it's not entirely obvious, we're having a great time up here," Guy tells us, and the massively uplifting tunage they provide ensure we are also.
A sizeable number of sensitive types were already filling the Electric Arena tent in anticipation of charmingly camp troubadour Rufus Wainwright. Playing solo tonight, switching between guitar and piano, he and his wonderfully expressive voice gently cast out moving moments from 'Poses' and double album opus Want, as well as his now ubiquitous cover of Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujah'. New song 'Sans Soucci' he claims is about 'a castle somewhere with all the cute boys he hasn't slept with yet', but the truth is he's dashing and talented enough to almost make some straight lads' heads turn. The audience were the most respectfully quiet I've seen in a good while, so much so that Rufus had to encourage them to sing himself. Granting a fan's request by playing ‘Rebel Prince’ and finishing by displaying his mastery of French with 'Complainte de la Butte', this I feel was the gig of Electric Picnic where the distance between the artist and audience was least, despite the numbers present.
Gnarls Barkley's cancellation meant a quick schedule rethink, so despite not being totally familiar with all their material, I bounded back to the main stage for a bowl of chili and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Looking very much the art-school darlings, Karen O is a multicoloured free spirit on the loose, and the only thing more angular than Nick Zinner's axemanship is his hair. Their NY bombast lends extra life to the fractured brilliance of tracks like 'Gold Lion' and ‘Date With The Night', and yet you still believe them when they give you the most simple and honest indie love song in recent history, 'Maps'. Very much owning the stage, Karen O delivers an intense performance that promises they are every bit worth the hype.
The Electric Arena had seen a brief taste of camp earlier in the evening with Mr. Wainwright, but that was nothing compared to the sheer spectacle of the Pet Shop Boys live show. More gold lamé and silver sequins than you could shake a stick at. The mechanics of the music being provided by Chris Lowe and his synthesizer, the show is all about Neil Tennant in a top hat 'n' tails leading the assembled throng of dancers and backing vocalists in considerable celebration. Every PSB song is an anthem, from the intellectually informed 'What Have I Done To Deserve This' and 'Left To My Own Devices, though the dark undercurrents of 'It's A Sin' and 'Opportunities'. They even manage to infuse their covers with this epic stature; witness the reverential treatment of 'Always On My Mind' and the cheeky choral collision of 'Where The Streets Have No Name / I Can't Take My Eyes Off You'. Audaciously theatrical every step of the way with neon light set pieces, costume changes and choreography, they finished on the fabulous 'Go West', took a bow and exited stage right. Marvellous.
To cap the festival off I took the path less traveled and went to the Crawdaddy tent to catch the other turntable icon playing this weekend, founder member of Jurassic 5 now gone solo, Lucas McFadden aka Cut Chemist. From the off it's a groovy and informed ride through cool beat-riffic tunes, together with some sneak peaks from his forthcoming debut 'The Audience's Listening'. At the end there's some humorous interaction as the Cutmaster uses his technologic wizardry to sample three members of the audience and scratch their voices to the beat, a process made unintentionally chucklesome by the third guy to be picked and his completely indecipherable country accent. With a modicum of talent and economics, Cut re-jigs his own recorded intro to be his outro without speaking another word. A better formulated and precise set you are not likely to see.
Long as this review is, it only represents my own individual EP experiences - a mere snapshot of the almost innumerable gigs & other activities that were on offer. Kudos and 'who thought that up?' plaudits go to the cinema tent (open 24 hours, showing the epitome of student & stoner favourites), the overall site layout complete with alternative art pieces erected throughout ("Jimi Hendrix is in that tree!! I saw him!! You believe me don't you?!"), the Comedy tent, impromptu performances at the Big Tree, the many varied food and drink stands and countless other things that I sadly did not have the time to visit. This had been more than just a music festival; this had been a gathering of like-minded souls, something that had been ingrained from its very inception, not something that arises merely from paying a lot of top name bands to play while providing minimum facilities, like so many other festivals seem to be doing. Not once during the weekend did I encounter a soul who exuded anything less than total immediate friendship, from the bloke who offered to trade me a cigarette for my sunkissed spot under a central tree, to the kind sound engineer from Galway who called the following Monday to inform me he had found my lost wallet and would post it back to me. No ill will was bared to any person present, save perhaps those who cranked up the volume and partied all night at the expense of those who would rather grab a few hours sleep, but there was even a special quiet campsite outside the main grounds for those parties who desired to be away from the festivities at night.
Festivals of this magnitude are always business endeavours, and sadly it seems that a growing number of them are increasingly sacrificing a quality experience in order to cram in more punters, cut back the facilities and generally gloss over the needs of the attendees in favour of commercialism and maximum cash extraction. The organisers of Electric Picnic, now in its third year, have swore that this will never happen to their festival, and I sincerely want to believe them, for right now it is a shining example of how a festival should be run, and I intend to book my ticket for next year's celebrations at the earliest opportunity.
Richard Brown (View Original Article)
| 1. | Dart For My Sweetheart |
| 2. | Cherry Lips |
| 3. | dead funny |
| 4. | kink |
| 5. | got to get (your eyes) |
| 6. | cuckoo |
| 7. | modern lovers |
| 8. | jab jab |
| 9. | how i sang dang |
| 10. | Harp For My Sweetheart |