So
here we are in September, joining the Truckers to defiantly continue
what the biblical July flooding threatened to halt. The Truck crew buckled
down, saving most of the original line-up and kept the spirit of Truck
festival alive in 2007 – where would our summer be without a trip
to Hill Farm. The warm-feeling in my stomach on entering the site is
thankfully mirrored by the blazing sunshine (one day of sunshine offsets
the sub-zero temperatures and drizzle of the second day).
Resisting the temptation to make it larger Truck is a festival on a
human scale, it is a communal gathering where artists, fans, organisers
and locals congregate to relax and party – in an increasingly
populated commercial quag-mire of brand-happy music festivals Truck
is something special and something worth fighting for.
The atmosphere is what makes it so appealing, but it is the music that
makes it special – Truck is the place to see big-name acts perform
in a tiny marquee or a cow-shed and the place where stumbling on the
most mind-blowing new sounds is as easy breathing.
Saturday
The
Cut Outs
***
These London-based lasses have something going on; but I’m damned
if I can pin-point it in the two songs I catch at the end of their set.
They are the sum of their influences which seem littered amongst classic
rock, punk and moody alt-rock – they sound like lots of bands
but have their own edge. Lyrically it all seems a little basic but the
music veers off in tangents that make my descriptive skills fall flat.
Restlesslist
***
Laid in the sunshine aside the Lounge tent I am washed over by wild
soundscapes exploding with instrumental noise, infiltrated by samples
and sound-bites (one appears to be from the Moomins). I’m told
this head-spinningly interesting musical melee is that of Restlesslist.
Note to self: pay more attention to this band in future.
Morrison
Steam Fayre
***
Swaying country-blues, evoking the ghosts of The Doors and the jangle-pop
of The Byrds, Morrison Steam Fayre make a lovely summery sound which
is derivative but in a good way. This is village fete music, which at
Truck is perfect. I think this as I buy local brewed cider from a cross-dressing
vicar.
The
Holy Orders
**
Fronted by a spindly, effeminate (his word not mine) purveyor of heroin
chic The Holy Orders are a grungy, gen-X time-warp. Their songs of angsty
desolation are propelled by meaty riffs, and pounding rhythms that would
have ruled in the early 90s. It all sounds ace, in a nostalgic kinda
way and at times looks to be dynamic but in the end all is lost in the
fuzzed-up volume. Between song banter and some proper rock star posing
from the aforementioned front-man lifts the entertainment factor.
Monkey
Swallows Universe
****
Sheffield is pretty dark and dreary place, I know I’ve been, which
is why the summery, whimsical indie-pop of MSU comes as such a surprise.
Seemingly built from a combined love of swaying folk, the C86 compilation
and Belle and Sebastian the band ooze loveliness whilst being capable
of dark, noir-esque laments on murder. They use an abundance of instruments
making complexity sound simple and reassuring – which I like.
Fanfarlo
****
Multi-instrumental envelope-pushing acts are definitely the order of
the day and Fanfarlo fit the bill nicely. The programme ‘asks
if I am lamenting the loss of Grandaddy’, which I am, and so I
should see Fanfarlo because they sound like them. This is true (the
soothing synth-lines lift each track into the heavens), but this influence
is just one ingredient thrown into their musical stew-pot – bubbling
away is the cinematic-scope of Calexico, the humour of Flaming Lips
and the off-kilter whimsy of Pavement and the result is nice. They sound
tiny and massive at the same time and look to be enjoying themselves
as much as I am – which is a lot. I highly recommend Fanfarlo,
they are pop at its best.
Paris
Motel
*****
Sometimes bands can surprise you and sometimes they can knock you sideways
as your brain drips out of your ears having tried to contemplate what
you have witnessed – Paris Motel fall in to the second category.
Amy May’s waltzing, heart-felt compositions are blasted out by
a pumped up chamber orchestra carrying her tales of lost romanticism
directly into your frontal lobe and engraining them of your soul. An
energetically performed blend of classical traditions and acoustic indie
pop – the power of Paris Motel’s aural beauty comes from
string instruments and perfect vocal harmonies not guitars. This is
music for connoisseurs and may not appeal to fans of this week’s
next big ‘indie’ thing – but sod them, I say, for
they are numpties. Paris Motel are an absolute must see.
Doktor
CocacolaMcDonalds
****
From the beautiful to the bizarre – the good Doktor returns to
Truck and takes my brain to another dimension, I play close attention!!
A camp, psycho-clown in his pants having a hissy-fit about the world’s
woes over casio-driven tunes, this guy is like nothing else…ever.
Built on mainly new material the set is a perfect example of comedy
brilliance. Interlude act Ray Man Of Words is a box-headed poet who
recites ‘one of the classics’ which happens to be the ‘Fresh
Prince of Bel Air’ theme – I laugh so much my eyes hurt.
The only thing preventing this from being a five star performance is
its measly half-hour length.
Fuck
Buttons
***
Fuck Buttons fuck about with some buttons producing some very loud,
and very ‘bangin’ electro-debauchery. They make my brain
hurt in a good way – some of it has an ambient beauty but mostly
it is cleverly calculated noise which is always welcome. They ain’t
much to look at so I lie on the grass outside the tent and enjoy the
beating sun with the beating, errr, beats.
Brakes
*****
Brakes are ace! It gets written in this prestigious periodical all the
time. Today they are on majestic form totally at home amongst friends
and in fine fettle - cracking jokes, improvising and thoroughly enjoying
every minute. Their country-punk tunes sound better each time I hear
them live – ‘All Night Disco Party’ has got heavier
and causes a bit of a boogie-fest and ‘Porcupine or Pineapple’
and ‘Cheney’ remain two of most humorous political statements
ever. Brakes rule and should be massive.
Forward
Russia
****
Leeds-scene behemoths Forward Russia have truly arrived! They have been
playing Truck festival almost since their inception and have been getting
more impressive each time they play – they have now stepped out
of the pack. They are rightly the days biggest draw and don’t
disappoint – their funk-punk, post-rock slabs of noise have never
sounded this colossal and dangerous – they seem to have turned
everything up to 11. The new material has more fight than earlier stuff
– debut album ‘Give me a Wall’ was their introductory
piece and from the sounds blasting from the stage the new offering is
going to be the main event.
They perform with their trademark boundless energy (front-man Tom Woodhead
appears to be having a sustained fit whilst almost strangling himself
with the mic lead) but everything is tighter, bigger and better.
Forward Russia have only just begun their assault on the rock mainstream
and based on tonight’s performance it is a battle they will definitely
win.
Garth
and Maud Hudson (and friends)
****
Who is Garth Hudson? Seems to be a question reverberating around the
Truck site. Well……Garth Hudson is a music legend –
a member of The Band (the backing band of one Bob Dylan’s first
‘electric’ tour and ground-breaking band in their own right),
collaborator with, amongst numerous others, Tom Waits, Eric Clapton
and Ringo Star and influence on a whole generation of artists. Tonight’s
set sees Garth in celebration of his 70th year on earth performing with
his wife Maud and members of Brakes, Goldrush and Grand Drive playing
his songs, songs of The Band and tracks by his ‘friends’.
This set is ‘Truck’ through and through – a joyous
celebratory gathering, a group of friends and associates taking a person
they admire and presenting them to a new audience. Each song is a gem,
the musicianship is exemplary and Maud’s voice flitters from beautiful
to dark and disturbing effortlessly.
A huge rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ ends the set, after
two encores and day one of Truck ends in style.
Sunday
Napoleon
IIIrd
*****
One-man pop machine Napoleon IIIrd has a three-piece band show going
on in the Trailer Park, producing shambolic but brilliant lo-fi pop
under-pinned by a reel-to-reel tape player. Equipment trouble doesn’t
lessen the impact of the nuggets of societal commentaries backed. Brilliant
tunes ‘This is my call to arms’ and ‘defibrillator’
show that he should be topping festival bills not propping them up from
the bottom. As the set ends he throws his guitar defiantly to the ground
declaring the instrument ‘shit’ – Napoleon IIIrd is
a unique and revolutionary leftfield pop artist on the up.
The
Mules
****
The Mules are one of the best new guitar bands around, but today seem
a little out of sorts and are lacking their fiddle player which removes
some of their edge. Still their blistering ‘electro-billy’
(a fraught fusion of country, ska, indie, punk and innumerable other
styles) rocks to the core and doubles the crowd dancing at the main
stage in minutes. Spiky jabbing guitars, clunking piano keys and clicking
rhythms force a surreal punky hoe-down – part punk show, part
vaudeville side-show and part heel-clicking barn-dance The Mules live
experience is something else – this is not the best they can be,
but still better than most bands on the circuit.
Fonda
500
*****
The 500 are quite unlike anything else in indie – a sci-fi, hip-hop,
punky, mish-mash they are crazily chaotic and entirely unpredictable.
We get 40-minutes of a loud, disco-punk, bear-hat-wearing, beat-boxin’,
right rollicking rock riot. Several times it all goes wrong, equipment
does its own thing, wrong notes are played but it all works thanks to
front-man Simon’s manic wit – we as the crowd go from ‘losers’
to eventually ‘winners’ in his eyes, watching them perform
apparently makes us all winners, and I’m inclined to agree. This
is pure 5 star entertainment (and they briefly bring the sun back).
Ending the set, Simon, peering from the stage says, “You’ve
been a……well too far away for me to give a shit.”
I laugh.
The
Winchell Riots
**
Conceptually I’m excited by The Winchell Riots. In reality I’m
bored to the very core of my being. This is post-rock made lifeless
and none of their live elements gell – the samples don’t
work, the drumming sounds tinny and removed and the whole thing sounds
like a band trying to be bigger and better than their abilities. They
are similar to many bands on the circuit but without the skill, life
and dynamicism. I think I may have nodded off – does that make
me a bad person?
The
Schla la la’s
***
In a fitting goodbye to my favourite kitsch girl-garage-group, The Schla
la la’s have been moved to the main-stage and put on a wonderful
show. Their 50’s girl-group style and 70’s punk tunes about
fun, love and erm…eating to much in Germany, are a annual delight
at Truck, and I am saddened that this is their last performance. A drunken
Georgie Schla slurs words about recently being dumped, they bring out
Piney Gir’s Truck 10th anniversary patchwork quilt and the set
ends with dancing girls dressed as cats in a storm of multi-coloured
party-streamers. This is pure punk party-fun.
Lo-Fi
Culture Scene
***
Pre-pubescent indie-boys Lo-Fi Culture Scene are damn impressive for
a bunch of 13 and 14 year old school kids but look nervous and rigid
in performance. They win over all the women in the tent as, with a sparkle
in their eyes, said ladies let out a collective ‘Awwww, bless’.
They do however have some impressive and incredibly catchy tunes matching
the jangly guitar so popular in this post-Strokes landscape, with some
of Bloc Party’s kinetic rhythms and arty edge. These boys have
the potential to totally slay the indie scene, by the time they are
16 they could well be one of the biggest and best guitar bands in the
UK. Expect to see them on a big-brand sponsored indie tour very soon.
Sure at the moment they are derivative, but at their age they can still
find their own niche and once they do it will undoubtedly be amazing.
One magazine said they are so good they can’t be school-boys but
must be ‘midget impostors’, they could have a point.
Joe
Driscoll
*****
On record Joe Driscoll’s beat-box, live-loop, hippy hip-hop is
very nice. In the live arena it is a revelation. I half wish he would
stop pointing out that ‘everything is made live, there are no
samples, this is called ‘live-loop-sampling’ as if we didn’t
grasp the concept the first time. Maybe he is still shocked by his own
talent? He is a one-man musical maelstrom imparting his message of love
and unity over summery guitar strumming and vocalised beats and rhythms.
Why he’s been confined to the Theatre Tent and is only being watched
by 30 people is a mystery – but this fact makes the few attending
feel extra special.
Andy
Yorke
**
Andy Yorke undoubtedly presides in the shadow of his elder brother and
his mediocre former band The Unbelievable Truth and if he continues
to be this dull he won’t step out of it. As the rain comes down
outside, there’s something just as wet inside the Market Tent.
Idlewild
***
As the festival’s big name ender Idlewild should end the weekend
on a massive high, but as they start late and the cold sets in it comes
across as a by-numbers hit-parade from a band capable of so much more.
In the past Idlewild oozed energy and were always a band that deserved
to conquer the world. In their quest to please the masses they have
lost their live edge.
by Chris
Marks
