Miscellaneous - 24/8/2003

  by Denzil Watson

published: 16 / 8 / 2003

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Article

Not too much trouble deciding which of the three days my annual day trip up to Leeds Festival should take place on this year. Anyone for Systems of a Down? Thought not. With the main stage looking very metal on Friday and Saturday it could only be the Sunday. This year the new venue of Brahman Park took over from the festival's more traditional home at Temple Newsome. One can only hope it returns to its former site next year, the new location being nigh on 40 minutes walk from the car parking. And with the stages on the site itself being so spread out, flitting from one band to another becomes a time consuming exercise. Anyhow back to the day in question. We arrived at the main stage just in time to see the back end of Junior Seniors' set. Pity. One hit wonders? One can certainly hope so. Although there's plenty of other cringeworthy 70's disco re-treads awaiting an unsuspecting public. How refreshing then, the appearance of the Libertines is. While the publicity surrounding the estrangement of the band's co-frontman Pete Doherty has been a tad sensationalised by the NME, the rest of the band have gotten on with the job in hand. Today's set is a tight affair - an impeccable lesson in classic Brit pop ¨? la the Small Faces, Blur and Wire, all the good things about a good olde British musical knees up. Carl Libertine handles the vocal duties with ease, enthusiastically assisted by new guitarist Antony Rossomando. The standout song has to be the new single 'Don't Look Back in to the Sun'. Don't be surprised to see this band climbing the running schedule next year. Next up is the ten-minute walk over to the Radio One tent to see the Kills, featuring Hotel (a.k.a. Jamie Hince of Scarfo non-fame) and VV (NYC art terrorist). The ante has been well and truly upped for this transatlantic girl-boy duo, and is well and truly deserved given their tireless touring schedule over the last year. And while it's obvious why White Stripes analogies abound, there's something far more dark going on here. The visuals are good - Hince resembling Lou Reed circa his 'Rock'n'roll Animal' period, while VV a dead ringer for Patti Smith. Last year the band was low down on the bill in the Carling Tent - this year a big jump up the bill to the Radio One stage. Musically, though, they appear to have been treading water. There's no new material on show - just plenty of gritty, abrasive deep-fried blues tunes from debut album 'Keep on Your Mean Size'. Think Velvet Underground at their downright dirtiest, mixed in with a sprinkling of Royal Trux. Then there's that electric chemistry between VV and Hotel, who spend a significant part of the set side on to the audience and face on to each other. It'll be interesting how they follow up one of the best debut albums of 2003. Back over at the main stage Doves are already fairly well advanced into their set. Surprisingly Doves cut the mustard as an upper-billing main stage act with remarkable ease. It's a solid set from the festival's least pretentious band, and while they may look like out of work accountants in their ripped blue jeans their ethereal soundscapes have a distinctively uplifting effect on proceedings, leaving the now swelling main-stage crowd with a real feel-good factor. Next up, the King of Kitsch country-disco himself, Beck Hanson. All-in-black, he's walking the walk and talking the talk, but the going is distinctly pedestrian - only an energetic 'New Pollution¡± really hits the spot. "And now I want to play you a few songs off the new record, 'Sea Change'" announces the curly blonde locked one. The turgid acoustic ballads that follow are woeful, both tuneless and directionless, more sawdust than stardust. It's a shadow of his performance several years ago and six or seven songs in we unanimously decide to head off in search of more exciting fare. First stop, it's the Mars Volta back over at the Radio One tent. They cut an interesting shape with guitarist Omar Rodriguez-Lopez¡¯s unfeasibly big hair. Unfortunately the new vehicle of ex-At the Drive-in members, Cedric Bixler on vocals and the aforementioned Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, appear to have lost their way. It's a bewildering sonic mess, all meandering subterrainial guitar noodling. In fact it's impossible to tell where one song starts and another begins. A self-indulgent jam that suddenly makes Beck over on the main stage suddenly appear a far more mouth-watering prospect. No worries. We decide to fall back on the Carling Tent. Enter stage left the Soledad Brothers. I didn¡¯t know much about this Detroit trio prior to the Festival but the breakneck acoustic hoe-down they serve up is far more palatable than what we've just witnessed. And with no bass, just two guitars and one of the Festivals most animated drummers in the shape of Benjamin Swank, the White Stripes comparisons don't just end with their city of origin. Good honest country blues despatched with passion and pride. Yeehar! You can even count the tunes. Shame we have to leg it over to the main stage to catch my personal must-sees, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. The lights go down, the dry ice drifts across the stage and the coolest gang in town in their trademark black uniforms saunter on to the stage. A few years ago they'd have been branded Jesus and Mary Chain copyists. But while the blueprint ain't so new, today BRMC are deservedly hailed as the new saviours of rock'n'roll with their no bullshit foot-to-the-floor riffage. The formula's simple. BRMC keep it simple and do what matters very well. Inexplicably though the sound does a complete wobbler for the first four or five tunes, rendering their fuzzed up rock a blunt weapon, maiming where it usually kills. Suddenly though the sound mysteriously improves (perhaps the soundman woke up?) and they start to blister along as their sonic juggernaut finally starts to roll. New songs from 'Take Them On, On Your Own' sit comfortably with the old order. The current single 'Stop' is a sledgehammer blow between the eyes - a master class in white noise. The now familiar 'Spread Your Love' is a dead ringer for 'Spirit in the Sky', "Whatever happened to my rock'n'roll" BRMC's anthemic battle call. They even pull out a pretty passable cover of The White Stripes' 'The Hardest Button to Button' to show they haven't forgotten the circumstances under which they're here today. A nice touch that further endears them to an appreciative crowd and, arguably, makes this their biggest live triumph to date. Twenty minutes later Damon Albarn saunters causally on stage in his mohair suit to hail the start of Blur's second headline set at Leeds in four years. From the initial acoustic strum of 'Beetlebum' to the sweeping atmposherics of set closer 'This is a Low' there's a distinctively melancholic feel to their set. Certainly Albarn is more relaxed these days and the hefty slice of 'Think Tank' on show certainly has a more 'chilled' world music feel to it. Despite this though 'Out of Time' has the trademarks of all great Blur pop-gems with its lazy, haunting melody and is the standout track of all the new fare on offer. And while the set gains momentum as the old faves are brought out to play ('Song 2', 'Boys and Girls', 'Popscene') one can't help but feel something is missing. That something of course is ex-guitarist Graham Coxon. Ex-Verve man Simon Tong deputises ably on guitar but treats Coxon's riffs like the beloved children of a friend rather than those of his own hand. Towards the end of the set things take on a distinctly surreal edge as Phil Daniels appears on stage for a rendition of 'Me White Noise', a hidden track on 'Think Tank'. The ensuing ramshackle of 'Parklife' is just a pale imitation of its former self. And what could be more English than set closer 'This is a Low' - it's meteorological majesty sweeping away some of the doubts that Blur are still one of the true British pop groups and also reminding us that today, for once, England's weather smiled on the festival going fraternity. The photographs that accompany this article were all taken by Denzil Watson

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