Truck
Nine
Sunday July 23 2006
Following a morning reprise of the rain, a cheery crowd are dancing
and swaying along to the deep-reggae sounds of Makating,
who expertly straddle rocksteady rhythms, deep dub grooves and
ska-like energy to provide the perfect summer Sunday relaxation
vibe.
The
Priscillas
are anything but relaxed, they have attitude! They play in-yer-face
punk rock and considering they are all women have a surprising
amount of balls. Their performance is a strange juxtaposition
of cute and sleazy – which I’m not sure whether I
like, but I’m here to be challenged.
Many
a moron was convinced that either Radiohead or Thom Yorke were
going to play a surprise set at Truck this year – I mean
come on! Undertheigloo are touted
as a good replacement for those disappointed by the reality that
they shouldn’t believe festival rumours.
Unfortunately, in a ‘special’ acoustic set the band
are really bland and not really anything like Oxford’s most
famous musical sons – mores the pity.
The
Rock of Travolta
are a far more exciting proposition and are a storming instrumental
rock juggernaut fuelled by chugging bass, massive riffs, pulsating
synths and strange spoken word samples. They also have a cellist,
play flying V guitars and have a knack for big rock poses –
now you tell me that doesn’t sound good.
Well, argue all you want they kick ass and that’s the end
of the discussion.
Persil
are
lovely, Dutch, shy and well, lovely. They play twee, slightly
disjointed electro-indie-pop performed with a drum machine, synth
and a guitar. Part shoegazing popsters Lush and part Saint Etienne
the duos take on the pop aesthetic is flawed but performed with
a sense of achievement that can only be commended.
They
impart the wisdom ‘We’ve been here since Friday so
we are as smelly as you are’, which is weird because I’m
not actually that smelly.
Challenging
ear-drums in a sweltering Barn are 65daysofstatic.
During the first chord of the first track a girl is carried from
the crowd by security having collapsed in the heat. 65dos soundtrack
the intense upheaval of the modern world, playing a confrontational
blend of post-rock guitars and rabble-rousing drum and bass that
hits the assembled Barn crowd like a crashing, crushing wave.
The bands new material indicates that the band are far from relenting
with their full-on aural assault and hint that there may well
be facets of their complex sound that we are yet to hear. 65dos
provide intensity on a massive scale.
So
many acts talk a lot without actually having anything to say –
that is why Babar Luck is so refreshing
with his happy, protest tunes. ‘My name is Babar Luck’,
he introduces himself strumming on his guitar – ‘I
dedicate this set to peace and to the children, we love all the
people all the time – with one love.’
This sounds incredibly ideological and cheesy but coupled with
his reaffirming, positive energy (as he bounds around the stage
seemingly filled with a presence of love I can’t quite understand)
and punky, middle-eastern tinged acoustic rock his message becomes
powerful and moving.
He has the whole crowd clapping, singing and nodding in agreement
– surely this is what an event like Truck is all about –
unity and tolerance.
‘I am happy to be back in Oxford’, states Luck and
by the reaction Oxford is happy to have him back too.
Where
exactly does redneck, renegade MC Buck 65
fit into the modern musical landscape? I’m damned if I know
and I’m damned if I care! The fact is that his one-man,
part hip-hop, part country, part poetry, part electro, part stand-up
routine never fails to entertain and surprise, even having seen
him many a time. Buck fills the stage with an enormous presence
for a one-man show and has everyone hanging on his every word
– he tells anecdotes with such honesty and humour that often
it is the bits between songs that are the most entertaining.
Saying this, his tunes are hip-hop from a very different stance,
as is shown by his diversity of musical backdrops. New material
points to a harder, more rockin’ edge to his next album
of which beat-driven, surf-rock sampling rouser ‘Dang’
is an obvious highlight.
I
really expect The Research to be
a highlight of the weekend. True their simplistic, uber-sugary
electro indie-pop is lovely and enjoyable, but essentially it
lacks edge. The performance is lacking the energy and humour that
their bittersweet tales of modern love deserve.
Other bands do this same thing and do it with more style, which
is what makes The Research a disappointment because they have
it in them to be much better. Close but no cigar.
Finally
taking to the stage is Truck Nine’s chosen target for my
rampant use of hyperbole. Mesmerising, genius, untouchable, beautiful,
touching are all words that can describe Regina
Spektor in the live arena.
Spektor succeeds at being one of those rare artists who can exist
on raw talent (which she has in abundance), not having to rely
on image, politics or controversy to be interesting.
One woman, one piano (and occasionally a guitar) in a packed Barn
who can still make the whole event seem special and intimate,
as an audience member you feel like you are participating in something
rather than simply viewing it. This may have something to do with
Spektor’s modesty, she is obviously unaware of just how
amazing she is, ending songs with a confused, nervous smile and
a simple ‘Thank You’.
Each song is ended with a roar from the crowd that most acts can
only manage at the end of a set, the biggest applause coming as
she stops her set dead to allow a girl who has passed out to be
carried away to safety and only starting again when satisfied
the girl is okay.
Her music is as endearing as her persona with her warped tales
of life, scatter-shot piano and jazz-like vocal dexterity (taking
in gruff aggression, rhythmic noises and soaring tear-inducing
highs) showing her full talents. A highlight is an inch-perfect
rendition of ‘Poor Little Rich Boy’ as Regina plays
piano, sings and provides percussion on a wooden chair simultaneously.
Regina Spektor is the queen of Truck Nine and deserves to become
a household name if there is any justice in the world. If not
the people that have witnessed her live can live happy in the
knowledge they have witnessed something special that the masses
will never get access to.
Having used
my hyperbolic rhetoric quota for another year, I leave Truck Nine
wondering how the festivals ten-year anniversary in 2007 can possibly
get any better.
by
James Thornhill
