Some Glasto Reviews

[EFM The Firm, The Voice]

Taken from dotmusic.com

 

Just the bands I saw

 

The Streets

Such has been Mike Skinner's ascent, from bedroom producer to underdog hero, he could probably just blow a horn at this audience and they'd go wild. In fact, this is precisely what happens. The crowd cheer approvingly to every toot of his comedy blower. Perhaps they're all on drugs or something?

 

This is just as well, since the sound in the dance tent is truly atrocious. Beats, vocals and bass lines all separate and rebound around us. The jumbled mess needs serious re-assembly in the brain before it becomes familiar.

 

Skinner's setlist is much the same as the one he has played for the past six months or so. This is a blessing and a curse - we know every word of every song but there are few surprises beyond 'Let's Push Things Forward' merging into The Specials' 'Ghost Town' and the videos for 'It's Too Late' and 'The Irony Of It All'. The latter is something of a minor comic masterpiece with an onscreen Skinner playing both beered-up lad and bonged-out student to hilarious effect.

 

That the band leave the stage for it's entire duration is probably a wise move. Someone somewhere is obviously smart enough to realise that great entertainment does not necessarily equate with a bloke in a baseball cap shouting. In fact, Skinner acts more like a cheerleader throughout while his foil, soulful singer Kevin Mark Trail, leads the tunes.

 

Nevertheless, there is an amazing atmosphere in the dance tent. The crowd reacts not so much to what is being produced in front of them, but to what Skinner has achieved already. The fourteen tracks on 'Original Pirate Material' tapped into feelings not represented by the bling of garage or the braggadocio of rap. It represented the mundane reality most of us exist in, as opposed to the fantasies we never will - a celebration of the pub, the all-night garage and the greasy spoon as much as the dance floor. Now the masses get their chance to pay homage.

 

For Skinner, who is surely eating a more salubrious diet than kebabs these days, this will be the next challenge: how to remain relevant and real to this audience. But, as he encores with underdog anthem 'Weak Become Heroes', this is obviously a matter for another time. For now, The Streets can do no wrong.

 

Skinner blows his horn again. We all smile, we all sing. Which is just as well, because from where dotmusic is dancing, we can't hear a bloody word.

 

The Sugababes

This year's surprise pop draw is made potentially more interesting by the conflicting appearance of former member Siobhan Donaghy on the New Bands stage. Donaghy's replacement, Heidi Range, was a blow to those who considered the Babes to be subverting the world of UK pop. Their surliness and lack of choreography set them apart in a world where most pop acts - desperate for their 15 1/2 minutes of fame - over-egg the pudding.

 

However, Range's talent-show perma-grin suggests if she hadn't been promoted to Babehood she'd have been just as pleased to rejoin old muckers Atomic Kitten, or even Girls Aloud. There's something of the Pierre van Hooydonk of pop about her that sits uneasily with the band's 'realer-than-real' image.

 

Yet, opening with 'Overload' and 'Run For Cover', the trio display their flair for substance over style. Both these perfect pop songs are rendered only slightly ludicrous by the half-hearted dance steps. Such moves, generally walking round in a circle at gunpoint, may look good on CD:UK but the subtleties are lost on a stage as huge as this.

 

The same goes for their vocal delivery (another trademark positive in the stage school world of pop) which borders on the inaudible. The backing band sound great but to crack this kind of arena they should have replaced Donaghy with a diva.

 

Still, fair play to them for being up for this. Following a series of limp ballads they finish inevitably with the big singles 'Freak Like Me' and 'Round Round'. Such uptempo material suits their tuff-girl image so much better, but to reach the heart of a crowd this size they needed more than their natural talents to get by.

 

Feeder

Sunday service on the Main Stage is one that hardly enthrals and is in dire need of some divine intervention before Feeder take the stage. Eyebrows may be raised at that statement but everyone's taking the traditional relaxation ethos of Sunday a little too literally. And that includes the bands.

 

Nestled amid the mediocrity, Feeder make it their business to stand out, something they've been getting a lot of practise at doing over the past few years. Being virtually the only band capable of generating a mosh pit aids their cause no end and a light sprinkling of rain gets everyone up on their feet.

 

Grant Nicholas' men - fresh from a five week US jaunt - waste no time in setting about their business, despatching 'Come Back Around', 'Rewind' and 'Just The Way I'm Feeling' in the first few numbers. If the best band of the weekend was being judged on the number of flags present then Feeder would win hands down.

 

As for their setlist, the addition of tracks from latest album 'Comfort In Sound' has bolstered Feeder's presence beyond belief. Just listening to the playground lyrics of 'Buck Rogers' confirms that point but the song's instant just-add-water pop appeal is inescapble.

 

Nicholas dedicates 'Comfort In Sound' to fellow Welshmen, the Manic Street Preachers, and 'High' to their late drummer Jon Lee before leading the crowd in a singalong to the 'da da da do' intro of 'Just A Day'.

 

That ditty aside, Feeder at last have the chance to prove that they have substance. After waiting so long, they were never in danger of wasting it.

 

Super Furry Animals

While 80% of the Glasto crowd are herding themselves over to the Pyramid Stage for an enthralling session on the psychiatrist's couch of Mr T Yorke and co, the Super Furry Animals are effortlessly dispatching lessons in genius. Each song, from the brass-laden opener of 'Demons' onwards, exhibits at least ten slices of furry magic. Currently playing way on top of their game, their set is a festival highlight.

 

Covering a careers-worth of ground, the twisted pop of 'Herman Loves Pauline', mighty versions of 'Rings Around The World' and 'Receptacle For The Respectable' to new tracks 'Golden Retriever' and 'Out Of Control' (the former a catchy gem, the latter built around a hoary old rock riff), the Super Furries prove themselves the missing link between rock's past and it's future potential.

 

This is highlighted as the country strum of 'Mountain People' (introduced as "a song from the last century") segues into techno breakdown. The band exit stage left as two Captain Caveman figures drum manically in accompaniment. On return, they hit the melodic godhead stride of the (eccentric) Beach Boys circa 1968-73 with versions of 'Run, Christian Run' and 'Juxtaposed With U'. With Gruff expounding brotherly love through a vocoder on his pulpit, this is truly astounding stuff.

 

A Bill Hicks sample - "all governments are liars and murderers" - flies out before 'The Man Don't Give A F*ck' destroys all competition. Concluding with a mighty twenty-minute electro soundclash the band return in the all-over Cave suits in a fitting finale. It couldn't get weirder or wilder.

 

Or maybe it can. Gruff is later arrested for stealing a car (his own 16-year old model, as it turns out). Just another day for this most special of bands.

 

The Coral

A seemingly lofty slot for The Coral means someone obviously believes the loveable Scouse indie mavericks are poised to install themselves as real contenders rather than merely bright young chancers.

 

And judging by their performance today, that prediction could well come true faster than you think. Their sprightly set airing forthcoming album 'Magic And Medicine' leaves little room for let up with jagging guitars and headrush tempos kicking in at the most unlikely of times. It's a familiar trait of The Coral but one that now seems less of a novelty and more of an inspired move. If nothing it leaves you on edge of your feet.

 

James Skelly and his indie-psychedelic cohorts flip the norms of rhythm more often than not but when they do adopt convention - 'Dreaming Of You' and the delightful new single 'Pass It On' - they effortlessly enhance the esteemed pop lineage of their hometown. Who'd have thought they'd be capable of such sublime moments of radio-friendly genius?

 

A year on from, erm last year, The Coral now have an identity and a unique sound albeit one plundered from day trippers gone by. Compared to current press darlings, The Coral still hold a colourful upper hand.

 

Electric 6

We come from Detroit, home of the White Stripes!" announces Dick Valentine, helpfully summarising the key reason behind his band's success. Jack White's appearance on 'Danger! High Voltage!' turned the spotlight firmly on this sleazy looking six-piece and they've milked it ever since. By taking two ideas - 'camp rock' and 'camp disco' - and mixing them to various degrees it looks like they've got it made in the US-loving UK.

 

As befits his lounge lizard pseudonym Valentine is suited and booted and plays the part of Tom Jones fronting Motorhead. He plays it so convincingly you wouldn't guess 2/3 of the band were recently sacked and replaced. That Electric Six are more cabaret than rock n roll means it probably doesn't matter.

 

Double-entendred tracks from their forthcoming LP 'Fire' fly by. The likes of 'She's White', 'Synthesiser' and 'Naked Pictures Of Your Mother' are first-time funny - but, as with 'Gay Bar', if you're still laughing second-time round then you probably find Adam Sandler funny. They play the big hit, and it sounds like the best four minutes they will ever achieve, but not half as good without Mr White's trademark squeal.

 

Obviously, coming in the middle of a perfect summer's afternoon, the crowd love them regardless. They are the perfect bit-of-a-laugh festival rock band. A career as the new Fun Lovin' Criminals beckons.

 

Polyphonic Spree

The emergence of the 25-strong Polyphonic Spree has been a heartening revelation to those who believe the rules have all long since been written in the rainbow-coloured world of rock'n'roll.

 

Like the Flaming Lips reworking 'Pet Sounds' during 'The Wizard Of Oz', the Spree have every musical base covered and probably do actually have a kitchen sink player stuffed onto the stage amid endless percussion, brass and countless other instrumentation and vocal histrionics.

 

Clearly, Tim Delaughter is the brains behind this operation, leading the band as they emerge in an explosion of colour, wearing bright red robes rather then the customary white. The set of the weekend seems almost inevitable.

 

However, though mini-symphonies such as 'Soldier Girl', 'Follow The Day' and the impossible to resist proclamation of "it's's the sun!!" burn as brightly as the almost nuclear-powered heat above, this quickly becomes rather flat.

 

Delaughter, who you would probably end up strangling if in his company for more than an hour, is so ludicrously, hysterically positive that the Glasto crowd seems unable to fully swallow it. The universal joy of Jimmy Cliff, last on, is soon forgotten.

 

And as the smiles rip incessantly, inanely across the faces of this undoubtedly precious group, you can't help but wonder if this isn't another Waco, Texas in the making.

 

REM

Michael Stipe implores Glastonbury to take him up to a different galaxy tonight. What's wrong with this one? Surveying the small city of lights sprawled out across the main stage amphitheatre, it seems like the perfect place to be.

 

As one of the world's bone fide superbands, REM have little to prove except maybe reminding us that recapturing past glories in the near future isn't out of the question. And, so much emotional energy has been invested in their music that Stipe's preamble before 'Losing My Religion' - "this is your song, we just cover it" - rings decidedly true.

 

Yet it'd be difficult to equate REM now with the band in their mid-90s heyday however hard they refrain from gritting their teeth to churn out the hits. They committedly throw themselves into the 'challenge' of enjoying playing their well-worn classics - 'Man On The Moon', 'Drive', 'What's The Frequency?' - with banter between Stipe, Mills and Buck suggesting inter-band harmony is as in tune as ever.

 

Needless to say Glastonbury is in true awe for the first time this year. Oddly enough Stipe appears to be in the same state, appearing embarrassed by the euphoria he generates with a quick shuffle and a flick of the wrists. Oh, and some of the finest songs of his generation. Resembling the look of a shell-shocked Oscar-winning actor and finding solace in hiding behind his hands at every opportunity, Stipe seems to have forgotten what it feels like. The look on his face suggests he won't forget it in a hurry.

 

'Everybody Hurts' and 'It's The End Of The World (As We Know It)', wrap up a best of set that we might never get a chance to witness again.

 

Follow that Mr Yorke.

 

Junior Senior

Is the New Bands Tent big enough for Junior Senior? Probably not would appear to be the answer judging from the general exodus in that direction minutes before they take the stage.

 

The Danish duo have struck a chord with the crowd that 'don't usually dance' unrivalled since Big Beat and, even further back, Dee-Lite. A survey looking into this year's most quoted lyrics at Glastonbury 2003 would doubtless find the song comes a little way behind cries of "Gay Bar! Gay Bar!" and "Danger! Danger!" (this year replacing the customary shouts of "Bollox!" emitted from anonymous tents just as you're trying to get some shut-eye).

 

Veering between camp rock'n'roll and B-52s pop-kitch, it's obvious that there's a good reason why this particular phenomenon comes from Denmark: the Style Police would never let it happen here. Junior Senior, it has to be admitted, are truly ridiculous but in an entirely good way. Like an amateur dramatic performance of the Rocky Horror Picture Show played by blokes in truckers caps and visors...it's an acquired taste.

 

As the inevitable climax comes the Style Police have to turn a blind eye. We're down the front with those Danish nutters dancing like loons. Until later..."Everybody move your feet and get uniiiited."

 

Inspiral Carpets

So...the Inspiral Carpets in the rain. Not, you would think, the Glastonbury dream ticket.

 

Not that the incessant downpour is deterring front man Tom Hingley. "This is the best f**king gig we've ever done," he shouts, before the band kick into their most famous three-minute 'This Is How It Feels'.

 

It's bizarre to think this band of chancers once headlined Reading Festival with a troupe of majorettes. Now they're on the comeback trail - wider of girth and minus the bowl haircuts and young girls twirling batons, but no worse for that. Their take on 60s garage rock, dominated by Clint Boon's organ, remains unchanged and probably more in vogue now than in their Madchester heyday.

 

The likes of 'She Comes In The Fall', 'Find Out Why', 'Sackville' and 'Two World's Collide' actually sound great. Certainly better than most of their contemporaries. Hingley swings his microphone a la Daltrey, the ginger drummer gurns amusingly and Boon keeps the retro keyboard sounds flowing. They play their new single and it sounds like all the others.

 

They finish with 'I Want You', soundtrack to one of TOTP's classic moments, but unfortunately, in this case, without Mark E Smith.

 

Cool as f**k? They never were. As a nostalgia trip? Not bad at all.

 

 

[Colin Zeal EFM]

Very disappointed that EFM'sL decided against seeing Polyphonic Spree. A mistake that will surely haunt him forever.

 

 

[Little Miss Urchin]

Been unlucky enough to see the Sugarbabes live a couple of times. Absolute sh*te! Couldn't hold a note and were out of tune so often I resorted to ear plugs. Thank heavens for studios as they sound good on their CD.

[EFM's Librarian]

Quote:

Very disappointed that EFM'sL decided against seeing Polyphonic Spree. A mistake that will surely haunt him forever.

Not from the sounds of that review

[Colin Zeal EFM]

That's just one person's opinion, Librarian. <img src="/forums/images/graemlins/frown.gif" alt="" />

 

 

[EFM's Librarian]

True, but I heard a couple of other people saying they were dissappointing as well. I suspect I may well have enjoyed it, but I was just too tired <img src="/forums/images/graemlins/frown.gif" alt="" />