Summer
Sundae
Saturday
August 12 2006
In
general I love Summer Sundae and its quaintness and the ‘Day
of Beige’ is all but forgiven as current alt-rock darlings
Howling Bells take
to the indoor stage. They superbly bring their ethereal, shimmering
rock sound to life as beautiful singer/guitarist Juanita Stein’s
glorious vocals float above wonderfully restrained surging guitars
– part post-rock, part Velvet Underground and part Pixies-esque
dynamism. They own the stage and manage truly mind-blowing yet
sing-along tunes and with their performance of debut single ‘Low
Happening’ bring their turn to an amazing end.
Following on from an obvious highlight is always going to be a
challenge, but Brighton indie ‘super-group’ Brakes
are not ones to shirk away. Boundless energy, crazy song structures
and endearing juvenile humour underpins every live moment from
a band that don’t have a bad song – I have written
about Brakes much this summer and basically all I can recommend
is you see them live and buy their recorded output – it
makes so much sense.
The blandness levels have turned crimson this really is bloody
exciting stuff, a little respite is needed. This excitement is
not even drink induced which makes it all the more spectacular.
Folk chanteuse and ex-member of headliners-to-come Belle and Sebastian,
Isobel Campbell
is a welcome interlude in the pounding rock action. Her shimmering,
swaying folk-fuelled, indie-pop is so beautiful and relaxing that
I have to admit falling asleep at several moments during her set.
This is far from a critical point as relaxation of the body and
soul is obviously an aim of Ms Campbell in her vocal and multi-instrumental
music mandate.
Only the final track penned by Screaming Tree’s Mark Lanegan
with its stomping, bluesy rhythms has the total bite to grab the
full attention of all present and guarantees that everyone is
kicked out of their mental lull into understanding the brilliance
of the performance they have just witnessed.
The fantastically frenetic Forward
Russia are tearing up the main-stage in their
own energetic post-punk style, but mid-afternoon in the open air
with a small crowd I can’t help but feel the whole experience
is lacking some of the edge that their club appearances provide.
Also on the main stage in the impeding cold and drizzle are the
unbelievably ‘French’ Nouvelle
Vague, who treat the crowd to the kind of sparkling,
summery, retro pop that only the French can truly manage. In general,
the band are a total novelty act reworking classic rock, punk
and pop classics in their own jazzy, easy listening style –
on record this has always been little more than a bit of fun and
live this is still the case but the songs are given a new edge.
The sheer quality of the individual performances lifts each track
to make grin-inducing pop brilliance. Watching an all-ages crowd
swaying to a bossa nova style version of Dead Kennedy’s
‘Too Drunk to Fuck’ is both brilliant and unnerving
in equal measure – moments like this are what music festivals
are for.
I am told we can’t get inside to watch The
Proclaimers because the room is full – I’m
not that bothered and am later told they ‘weren’t
actually that good.’ All’s well that ends well.
And end well the day does with one of the tightest bands on the
planet….the Blockheads.
Ian Dury’s backing band proved that they were always equal
in talent to their legendary front man and they prove to be incredibly
vibrant and danceable at every moment in their headline performance
– it is immediately apparent why this is their second performance
of the weekend (back by popular demand). Classics like ‘Clever
Trevor’, ‘Hit me with your rhythm stick’ and
‘Reasons to be cheerful (part 3)’ stand up as some
of the greatest pop songs ever made and each moment is a total
joy. The only strange point comes in comedian Phill Jupitus being
Mr Dury’s replacement. True, he has the accent and can,
in his own way, mimic the front-mans moves but he is essentially
providing a karaoke version of greatness which comes close but
essentially falls short.
The night ends after a good old drenching and a trip to somewhere
called ‘Mosh’ which is much better behaved than it’s
name suggests and a random trip to an all-night bar – tomorrow
is going to be painful.
by
Chris Marks
Friday
Sunday
|
|
|
