La Femme
What better way to shake off the cobwebs of a largely
gig-free Olympic summer than a day out at the 1234 Shoreditch. I come here each
year and it rarely disappoints.
For me, the day begins with Drop Out Venus doing ‘I Kill
Foxes’ on the main stage. It is an exhilarating, uncompromising start. They’re
brilliant, as ever.
I then dash across the field to catch the second half of La Femme, a six piece attack of driving synths. They are very French and clad in
matching white T-shirts. Vive le no difference!
The Pukes are a vast ukulele orchestra of mature ladies
blasting out punk classics. This ought to be twee, but is just joyous. There
are at least seventeen of them bouncing and running about. I bawl along with
‘GLC (You’re Full Of Shit)’ and have a great time.
JEFF The Brotherhood are uber-macho American rockers, who
produce a fine old racket and are clearly used to playing to large festival
crowds. Their swagger contrasts with Los Cripis, who are a rather fiddly and
introspective outfit from Argentina. These last are ok, but do get special
Wyldman points for including an unexpected cover of Devo’s ‘Blockhead’.
The most divisive band of the day are The Pre New. It’s
impossible to tell whether they are an elaborate joke or something brilliantly
strange. A solidly built guy dressed as
though he’s come straight from the bar of his local golf club half talks and screams
alongside a younger guy in combat fatigues and Pierrot make-up. Behind them a
band blasts out crunching dance beats using everything from drumkits to
Macbooks. There is much abuse of equipment, with microphones and ice cream
thrown at each other. It’s chaos, but good entertainment. Pierrot appears to
have a drumkit set up purely so that he can lurch over and punch it
occasionally. The audience is split between those who think this is all a hoot
and others who grump off to watch something else.
The most hyped band here seem to be Zoetrope, who have drawn
much attention to themselves by being young, female and all over the free
newspaper that you are given containing today’s stage times. Unfortunately, they just don’t seem very
interesting. They play to a packed tent, but I soon get bored with them and
bail out.
Antlered Man are a much better proposition. I could listen
to them do ‘Platoono Of Uno’ all day. They’re part prog, part hardcore, all
business and go down a storm.
I run my eye over Black Moth (phenomenally heavy, but
perhaps not overburdened with tunes) and The Neat (impressive power pop and
very jolly).
I try to avoid Deap Vally on the main stage as I am due to
see them headline their own gig next week, but from what I catch, these two
girls are going to make a big splash with their piled high hair and blues rock
clatter.
I then head off to see Public Service Broadcasting after a
passer by begs me for details of their set times. And they turn out to be a bit
of a revelation.
It’s a simple premise. Two guys use samples from vintage
movies and documentary footage and marry these to Krauty dance rhythms. It
might be rather self-limiting, but for half an hour they are mesmerising, with
a whole tent nodding along to Blitz-set epics ‘Britain Can Take It’ and
‘Spitfire’. PSB are one of the finds of the day.
I skirt round Buzzcocks on the main stage – they are fun but
too familiar – and finish off the day with Mark Stewart, who is playing with
the Trio VD. This set turns out to be the most deafening and uncompromisingly
harsh noise of the day.
As ever with Stewart, vocals are treated and distorted and
the music is an assault on the senses. It’s a greatest hits set, if anything
that he does could ever be so categorised. It’s bizarre to hear versions of
‘How Much Longer Will We Tolerate Mass Murder’, ‘Feed The Hungry’, ‘Liberty
City’ and ‘Stranger Than Love’ – this last dedicated to Max Bygraves with all
sincerity.
They finish with a stonking, howling version of ‘Hysteria’.
It’s a rousing end to a really enjoyable day out.
I’m back on the gig scene, baby!
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