It
can’t be easy running a high profile festival on the same weekend
as Reading and Leeds, but Get Loaded manages to bring a quality bill
to Clapham Common.
Peter
Bjorn and John
Their Scandinavian summer pop brings out the sunshine at the start of
the day and sets the tone for playing the hits as ‘Young Folks’
naturally gets the biggest reactions. By the time the whistling comes
in the crowd really comes alive – clapping, whistling and cheering
along to such a degree that it spurs them on for the remainder of the
set to a closing number packed with pure adrenaline.
Man
Like Me
Man Like Me are a revelation, lifting the roof and getting the crowd
going from the off, displaying consummate showmanship as they skank
around the stage non-stop to their own brand of nu-two-tone. They lose
half the crowd after single ‘Oh My Gosh’ sets the place
absolutely on fire. Those poor souls will never know what they missed.
Man Like Me himself scales speaker stacks, hops the barrier to dance
with unsuspecting ladies, uses a cardboard tube as an unconventional
stage prop and a drum bag as an even odder costume, leading up to a
glorious closing cover of MMpate with an Oh My Gosh reprise which is
a near religious experience. These guys are a live act of some reckoning,
and if they’re not your new favourite band within the next six
months then there is something seriously wrong in the world.
The
Wombats
There is a sparse but receptive crowd for scouse popsters The Wombats.
New single ‘Let’s Dance to Joy Division’ goes down
well, while old single and set closer ‘Kill The Director’
has the crowd happy-clapping along.
Bonde
Do Role
The £1 whistles being sold at the gate come in handy as Bonde
Do Role bring carnivale to Clapham Common. Adorned in face paint and
self-drawn penis tattoos, their set is blighted by terrible sound, tragically
robbing them of their full impact. It seemed they put all their frustration
into lifting the roof for ‘Office Boy’ to close in an overtly
sexual, wild, whirling dervish of youthful exuberance- throwing beer
all over each other, climbing the stacks, even lifting the monitors
to let the crowd hear better at one point.
¡Forward,
Russia!
Front-man Tom Woodhead gyrates like a loon and risks strangulation the
whole way through a characteristically high powered set, though again
they were struggling with sound problems and intrusive feedback squeals,
which really did a number on new track ‘We Are Grey Matter’.
In seeing past this, their new material is packed with even more dance
rock vigour than Give Me A Wall, if that’s possible. They leave
the stage seeming unhappy with the poor quality sound they were forced
to deal with, though the crowd were left contented.
The
Automatic
The
Automatic have the crowd in absolute pandemonium during their frenetic
set – insane – hands are clapped, flip-flops are lost, beer
cans are launched, boobs are flashed… this is chaos – before
being bizarrely joined by Newton Faulkner on guitar for their cover
of Golddigger.
M.I.A
An
awesome reception welcomes her as she limps her way on stage, crutch
in hand. It doesn’t slow her down, though, as she’s soon
climbing the supports and moving the tent with deep and dirty, world-music-tinged
hip hop. The whole tent bounces together in one sweaty, heaving tribal
mass in awe and worship of this pretty, petite, delicate-looking girl.
Her performance denies her appearance as she “gets educational
on our arse.” She causes a near riot as she mounts the barrier
and is pulled over for some unplanned crowd surfing. Now she’s
hopping again. The applause come the end is deafening. We love her.
Dizzee
Rascal
Neither crowd nor atmosphere disperses as they dance it up to the DJ
before Dizzee Rascal. The man’s set itself is a forty five minute
haze of sweaty armpits and moshpits. Jus a rascal, Oi! fix up, look
sharp, back up back off the wall, hands in the air, don’t make
me get old skool, I break the law I will never change, boooo, brrrap,
make some fucking noise. I didn’t think it possible to make any
more but somehow we did. One thing that is certain is that grime is
not yet dead so long as this man continues to take the stage.
Newton
Faulkner
After
that a much more mature and easy going crowd is a welcome relief as
things get near-menopausal around me for Newton Faulkner. The man himself
cuts a pleasant and affable figure as he chats to the audience between
numbers before his lightning fingers get more out of a simple acoustic
guitar than should be physically possible by conventional reckoning.
An arena of this scale could easily have swallowed such a low-fi, low-key
act, but it is full and the crowd stands truly rapt with every chord,
smiles on faces and tears in eyes. It’s no surprise he is able
to break the news that his album has gone to number one on that very
day, nor that the crowd seem happier about it than he is. It won’t
be long before he’s headlining a lot more tents on the festival
circuit.
The
Streets
The sun is just starting to disappear as The Streets close the day on
the main stage. There must be some kind of neighbourhood noise law in
effect because it’s not exactly pumping, losing much of the raw
edge that this kind of act needs, especially when their live show has
always been lacking something. Saying that though, 'Weak Become Heroes'
is a bit special, but things are still wrapped up before last orders.
by Phil
Dixon
