We were due to meet some friends around the Southbank after the football, and caught the bus to London Bridge.  Bus is by far one of the most relaxing and enjoyable ways to bumble along  in London.  A close friend of mine will only travel by bus, and since we have spent time together, it has become contagious and now have a similar bus addiction.  I feel a bit like a kid on a bus, and don’t get me started if the front seats on the top deck are free – can be embarrassing for those brave enough to travel in my company.

In an off the cuff decision we disembarked the bus around Borough and went to a little pub called The Gladstone, to pass some time.  When we entered the establishment is was clear some form of celebration was about to kick off, “The Glads 4-year-old birthday”, where they had 10 bands/artists playing throughout the day.  A brilliant discovery.

I ordered a pint of Addlestones Cider, and played a couple of games of chess while the first few bands played through their sets.  It a great way to spend a rainy afternoon, drinking and playing chess, listening to live music.  For some reason I thought I was a world-class chess player, it seems that I have forgotten how rubbish I actually was – lost the first game in 5 minutes. I didn’t think that was possible!  Great game if you’ve got the patience. Although I prefer something  a little more random like Rapidough, with a twist of course.

Drinking Addlestones, particularly lots of Addlestones, is a mistake as you will find out later! The Gladstone was rammed as more and more people arrived to take in the creative atmosphere.  This bar is clearly popular with musicians and has a great vibe, people spilled out onto the street as this small place was filled to the rafters.  I continued to watch the music as more of our friends arrived and lose 4hrs in the music/banter and general mêlée – sign of a good time.

Still drinking the evil cider until 12am – I did not look good, my chat was poor and I think I’m hilarious.  Not a good place.  The Glad closed and we moved on to Shoreditch, by bus.  I am so easily led at this hour and  convinced everything seems like a good idea.  Bad plan, ques, expense and scary people.

Looking for taxi, bus, in fact any form of transport to get me home was proving difficult.  So I shout “taxi!”. A car parked on the side of the street winds down his window and says jump in.  So I do, in my head thinking that was a lucky shout.  However, I say take me to East Dulwich….and he goes “where?”  Not a good start, seems I’m not in a Taxi, but a random’s car, who is the size of a house.  It looked like they had built the car around him.

So I point in the direction I think we need to go and he seems to drive around in a circle for a while and arrive in East Dulwich an hour or so later.  He has child locked me in the car, and is demanding money.  £40 to be exact.  I think he is taking the “piss”, but no, he is angry pointing his massive hands at me. If you have seen the Science of Sleep, hands that big.  Bearing in mind that I am locked in the car, in an unfortunate position, drunk, I reluctantly gave the giant the cash. This was not a good experience to end the night on.  It felt like I had almost unleashed a chain of events that could have ended in Pulp Fiction tears.

I enter my house fall face down on my pillow, stick on Mazzy Star and think about what kind of martial art I should sign up to.  Please note: Trying to think about martial arts while listening to Mazzy Star does not last long.

Morale of the story…..cider is bad, buses are good, getting in the back of a random’s car is not advised.

Aquaglass

This week has been one of those weeks, where if the technology existed my head would be coming off.  However, without the option of head removal as a real possibility, I have looked for some inspiration to channel some of my dreams.  I think I am slowly rekindling a love for developing characters and drawing stories.  When I was a kid I developed an illustrated story, everyday I would get an A4 bit of paper and draw the scene for the tale, I would cellotape each A4 piece together creating this scroll. Probably what someone now would call storyboarding i suspect.  I did this for 1 year, everyday 1 piece of A4, a 365 page illustrated story.  I never wanted it to end, in my head it would never end. 

I was 8 and loved getting lost in this mythical world I was creating. I was inspired by the film Flight of Dragons, a wonderful animated film I still hold close to me. I wanted to create the world of wizards, dragons and with cartoons filling my head full of possibility, creativity, I did.  It was OK to imagine.

I carried the scroll, my bible, my comfort blanket with me everywhere. It was taken from me, ripped from my body, and callously shredded by a monster bully.  I had no concept of death at 9, no relatives had died, none of my pets had passed away. My story was murdered that day along with it my love of creating  and living in my imagination.  I was traumatised and withdrew into my shell for a while after that and its only recently, 20 so years later,  that I have been opening doors in my mind. It is a slow process, one I fear at times which means I stutter and hold back. 

Like Flight of Dragons inspired me when I was 8, two things have triggered a similar reaction.  Earlier in the year I went to the see Warhorse.  A unbeliveable and emotional theatre production, with the focus being on life-like puppets.  I was instantly lost in this production, the puppets were incredibly real and the puppetering was a masterclass. I was in love with what had been created in front of me.  More recently I watched a film called the Science of Sleep.  This blew me away.  One of the most creative films I have ever seen, and pretty much describes what my mind must look like. Written and directed by Michel Gondry. Everyone should watch this.  These two experiences and a friend of mine have helped awake the 8-year-old boys dreams and might help me manage my thoughts now.  I’m excited and inspired again.

Aquaglass

In particular I have always struggled with fiction due to an inability to get lost in the world created by an author’s pen. I open a book  and it’s always  2 pages forward one page back for me, I’m like a drunk on his way home –  it can be long journey, if indeed I make it.

I could never relax and accept where the words were taking me, scared of what might happen.  There would never be moments where I would let my imagination absorb the imagery, characters and speech, resulting in a reading session that lasted for hours.  The phrase “I couldn’t put it down” was not in my vocabulary.  For some reason I was constraining myself when I was younger.  You would have thought at a time when you are free from the stress of everyday life, in a world where opportunity and experiences are part of aging, the creative juices would be exploding like Mt Vesuvius.  Not for me.

As I have aged, I have been slowly allowing myself to let loose.  I choose not to conform, I choose not to be influenced, I choose not to fight with myself.  I have noticed changes in my personality and outlook, you can argue this is part of growing up, but, I feel I’m allowing part of me that was buried alive, 6 feet inside my body, to reappear.  Mental – you could be right, Schizo – a distinct possibility, Nutter – most definitely.

It is challenging to allow change, it is challenging to accept who you are.  However, fighting against those things that are just natural to you is something that leads you to a life of 2 pages forward, one page back.

“I couldn’t put it down” is now a phrase I feel more comfortable using, Confederacy of Dunces is one of the first books I can say that about – I think it scares some of the general public as I shout it at random moments throughout the day.

Aquaglass

We had plans to go to Battersea Car Boot Sale but a misunderstanding in days and times postponed that trip.  It starts at 1pm on Sunday, not Saturday, for those interested. You should always have a plan B for unexpected mishaps and in South East London there are many places to entertain yourself on a Saturday Morning.  Our plan B was Deptford Market.

Deptford Market, located on Deptford High Street, sells a range of goodies. Fruit and veg, bric a brac and junk are just some of the stalls you’ll come across. The market takes place every Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, from around 7am until 4pm.  Although, if you want to find the good stuff you should head there as early as possible.

We arrived in Deptford about 11ish after sailing  through the hustle and bustle of Peckham and New Cross on route to the hidden treasure. There was a wave of vibrancy in these areas that carried us through to Deptford quickly, I do recommend that just going for a walk through Peckham and New Cross is a great swashbuckling experience.  If we had landed at the flea market earlier we would have been battling other pirates looting for the treasure, I’ll make sure I’m early next time.

 Saturdays are the day for getting your bargains from the flea markets offering all kinds of strange and diverse antiques and ornaments.  Here you’ll find tables strewn across a square piled high full of stuff.  There is about 4 areas that dominate the traffic of people. You literally have to wade through things in search of what you’re looking for.  I never know what I’m trying to find, so it quite fun just diving in, but you do come across some weird stuff. There was even a toaster with the toast still in it.  Does make you wonder where the merchants found their merchandise.  I don’t ask……

I’m sure there is haggling to be had although I tried to negotiate with one of the old merchants but was told that he would cut out my tongue (Punch me) if I asked.   He had been robbed by 7 petty thieves earlier – I wonder what will become of them.  I’m sure there is a code amongst the merchants and if broken you should run for the hills.

We picked up some picture frame and some random glass container things.  Amongst the debris, hidden in the background, was this weird thing that looked like a cross between a deep-sea divers helmet and a stove.  My friend thought it would make a great garden feature and base for plants to embrace…..if only we had a car. Next time. 

We then relaxed at The Deptford Project Train, great cafe set on a refurbished train and a nice way to end the fury of the flea market.  They  have sandwiches, muckle cakes and drinks at reasonable prices.  We just chatted, relaxed and watched the world pass by.  Next door some craft stalls are selling some interesting handmade stuff and this is expanding as more local people try to trade their own products.  The Deptford Project are developing the area and  looking at holding many more events.  I believe there will be a Silent Cinema in the near future which sounds interesting.  I have just been in South East London for 2 months and I love this area.  Glad we had a plan B, which probably turned out better than Plan A.

Aquaglass

It was here I caught Jens Lekman, a Swedish musician who produces the kind of melancholic pop that puts a smile on your face.  I can safely say that everyone would like Jens Lekman to be their friend.  He open’s with “We are all gathered here for the union of Jens Lekman and the Audience” – and says that he had to change the set due to acoustics of the Chapel.

Initially it started acoustically with a solo guitar performance which rattled around the body of the building.  Jens has a tone in his voice that is perfectly accentuated in this arena.  The 6 piece band then joined the stage, all wearing a key around their neck as Jens did.  Some symbolic message for the Cult of Lekman, I’m sure you’ll see his followers with similar parafanalia in the future.

Personally I prefered the music with the band, it filled the chapel well and on one occasion I felt a wave of emotion pass through me during the start of “Your arms around me”, a beautiful song played in a magical background.

As the band gained pace and the classic songs the audience craved were released, bouncing off the stain glass and columns of the imposing structure, Jens gestured to the audience to awake from their graves and dance. The atmosphere changes dramatically as people rose to their feet in unison and became the congregation of a gospel church, dancing in aisles and on pews.  It was a great moment and one I wish my camera hadn’t run out of batteries for.

While the audience was still standing, once again he started a sermon.  “Do you the audience take Jens Michael Lekman to be your partner”, a rapturous ”I do” from the crowd, ” Do I Jens Michael Lekman take the audience to be my partner” , ” I do” he responded in a deep voice to the exhilaration of the crowd.  He then burst into ” A postcard from Nina”.

The show ended in solo finish, which was quite self-indulgent, where he literally had the audience performing as his choir. They were in awe of Jens, he had himself a new set of disciples.  Check out his latest album “Night Falls Over Kortedala”.

Before I leave I think I should mention the support act The Blow.  When I entered the chapel there was sole lady, dancing to pop.  It seem like it was a little open mic like.  However, I took a seat and watched the show develop.  It was 1 cup comedy, 2 tablespoons story telling, 500g of pop.  It got better and better for me and by the end I was bopping around.  Her voice at times is tedious, but it didn’t take away from the entertainment.  Worth a look.

To end.  Jens will you be my friend?

Aquaglass

Field Day is a 1 day festival that takes place at Victoria Park.  Like Truck, it seems to attempt the village fete theme.  I have to admit on arriving it did seem a little chaotic; queues were everywhere, like Stanstead airport in the height of summer. Shambles.  Although what took me by surprise was I actually just ghosted in without even showing my ticket!

As my friends and I gathered, we thought we’d take in the Macaroon Eating contest.  3 people going head to head in an eat-off of 25 sweet treats with the promise of a guitar for the winner. I think I had images of an American Pie eating or hot dog eating contest, with rotund like figures who had trained for months to get into peak condition.  It would be a miracle if these contenders could eat 1; they were three stick insect like challengers.  Like you would expect from the British it was an orderly and pleasant eating competition, I would have much preferred the outcome of this being a food fight.

We went to the main stage to catch Steve Mason, the lead singer and one of the founding members of Beta Band.   I have to admit the first four tunes I found incredibly dull – it is hard to take control of the main stage, in the light, at 3pm in the afternoon when you’re essentially throwing out singer-songwriter esq tunes.  My opinion did however slowly change as they put more drums and more bass through the set and by the end of it I felt my body moving.

I must of magnetised myself on Saturday morning, as people who I had met over the past two years kept on bouncing off of me.  Its great bumping into people you had good experiences with, consequently it’s not so good bumping into people you had thought/hoped you would never have to communicate with again….if only I could have changed my settings to good people.

Next on was Lightspeed Champion, led by Devonte Hynes, who played a wonderful set of pop. There were synth sounds, 70’s guitar, piano and Devonte’s infectious stage presence. Lightspeed Champion overcame the challenge of the Main Stage  – the crowd loved it and I loved it. Hynes is a pretty talented guy that most people would be envious of.

Inevitably there is a point at a Festival when you need to relieve yourself.  The new system in place in the boy’s toilets seems to be a forced social experiment/efficient use of space .  There are several circular tanks with 5 positions for the desperate user to step up to – each person in an awkward stand-off with another, waiting for someone to make the first move. 

Without doubt eyes lock and someone feels the need, especially when inebriated, to converse.  Idle chit-chat about the relief of peeing and the advantage of being a boy is standard fair at the urinal.  For those of us who become intimidated and need complete anonymity when nature calls find this a fairly uncomfortable and time-consuming process. I feel sorry for the queuing girls but then appreciate the quietness of the box, I just don’t have time to queue because if  I did this post would have a different slant.

On the way back I popped my head in to the Quietus tent and catched a few tunes by Esben and the Witch.  I saw part of their set at Truck but wasn’t impressed and left immediately. However, on this occasion I had an entirely different experience. I was into it and  found it dark, absorbing and atmospheric.  It just shows you, your mood, the crowds mood, the atmosphere and the way the band delivers the music can influence what you take from it. People, and bands, should be given second chances.  Esben and the Witch proved me wrong, I liked it and will investigate further.

Later in the day I attempted to watch No Age, pretty loud stuff – not sure what was coming out of the speakers but it seemed just like noise to me. Couldn’t stand it and had to evacuate quickly. I moved back to the Main stage and caught the whole of the Caribou set.  In an enclosed environment Caribou’s electronica is brilliant; in the open it is good.  It started well but I eventually lost my concentration and felt that I was forcing myself to enjoy it.  It needs to be played in a cave, loud, confined and dark.

Pretty unsteady on my feet by now, I had spent all my money and wished I had bought a JCB with me to collect all the empty cans and glasses as there was a great collection business on refunded waste.  Some people were using ingenious techniques like filling the underside of an open umbrella.  The human species is like no other!

I still can’t get over the cost of beverages and food.  For 1 can of cider they were charging £3.90 plus 10p for the refund of the can. Daylight robbery – profiteering of the highest order.  They even banned people from bringing any of their own food or drink, forcing people who were hungry and thirsty to pay the price.

I now started to get disheartened by the music as the quality tailed off. I ended up going to see Chapel Club, people have been talking about these guys for a while – nothing against them as individuals but this set was average and pretty boring.  It is at this point I wonder why  the last two festivals  I have been too  have only had a  handful of good bands (that I saw) – and recently, in my opinion,  only a few outstanding additions to the music world recently. I then  had a mood swing which sent my mind off on one -  music is being saturated and amongst the many there are currently only a minority,  who are fortunate to be and want to be exposed, that capture the imagination.

The main stage is the last call to check out Phoenix, a French band that seemed to be getting a lot of press.  They have been around since 2000 and have quite a large  following .  Their rock-pop is inoffensive and nice. As they were headlining they had the benefit of the light show and darkness to create an atmosphere which multiplied the impact of their music 10 fold. I watched about 5 songs and decided that I wanted to miss the masses at the end of the day and made my way back home.  It’s at this point you realise that you are now on auto-pilot,  floating home with pretty much zero control of your bodily actions. Due to my mood change, my mind was wandering into the negativity of the day rather than the good.

I started to anticipate the next day and the outlook for rain in my mind – first mistake.  Field Day was a fun summer’s day with friends but I am starting to wonder if I am enjoying music at the moment – where has the inspiration gone?

Aquaglass

I am trying to read my book, A Confederacy of Dunces, but to no avail.  As the mother or grandmother, I couldn’t tell, decided to de-robe to try on a new purchase.  I don’t know about you but this is an extreme hunting tactic I am not familiar with - I was discombobulated by this, unable to decide on my next move – I was startled. Clearly this was working.  The mother or sister, I couldn’t tell, of this 5-year-old boy were giggling as her boob fell out of her bra.  An image I am currently trying to erase from my innocent mind. 

 Once she managed to put on her ceremonial hunting attire, she proceeded to walk the “catwalk” of the carriage.  At this point I have dropped my book, a clear sign of weakness because the chief darts to pick it up  - I beat her to it, the doors of the train open and I am off like a gazelle.  A somewhat harrowing experience that will be in my dreams for nights to come.

That was the journey back. It was an uneventful journey to Rough Trade, but a truly gratifying one.  I went into the shop, I love the atmosphere in here.  Peaceful and warming – I don’t feel awkward like I do in most other stores. The guy who served me yesterday was in, first obstacle bypassed, friendly and cheerful the chap said he needed a quick minute to speak with the boss. I perused some of the merchandise managing to force myself not to go on a shopping spree.

In an unexpected turn of events the girl and guy approached me with two tickets and my receipt – no questions. I queried them about “the count”  and they said they had the amount of tickets they should do, implying that I had misplaced it, or lost it between the shop and the train. I am still convinced I was given one.

Despite the evidence , they still gave me a “free ticket”, the chap had told his boss that I seemed like an honest guy.  Its been a while since I have walked out a shop grateful and happy.  It was great seeing some kind, good people in the world.  Thank you Rough Trade I have two tickets to Field Day now – it seems I was the fool.

Aquaglass

I cruised up to Shoreditch on the East London Line, pretty impressed by the speed of the service.  For once I was amazed at the spacial surroundings I was experiencing  on London’s Public Transport System.   Quite literally I was the only the person on the train.  I thought about seeing if I could ride with the driver.  I wish they still allowed people in the  cockpit.  I had a similar experience in Shoreditch Station, it was derelict.  I am unsure if anyone knows its open?

I was on a tight schedule so rushed through to Rough Trade.  Shoreditch and Brick Lane always freak me out – my anxiety increases the more people there are.  Everyone is extremely dressed – trying or not trying to be über trendy – I feel like I’m flying at high-speed through bright multicoloured headlights.  I  find the sanctuary of Rough Trade and have a wander around.  It’s a great shop once you figure out how to find what your after – its complicated and there are no instructions.  They have a great little coffee shop, somewhere to put your bike and also have lot of bands  playing in stores for new releases – a truly brilliant independent.

Active Child - Curtis Lane

I picked up the Active Child EP – Curtis Lane after hearing him at Truck and I also wanted some of the earlier Smoke Fairies 7″‘s – Sunshine and Gastown, no luck, none around.  What happened next is mad….. I buy a couple of Field Day tickets and the EP, grab a wrap from across the road and head back to the train.  Sitting on the train I decide to review today’s purchases, I rustle around the bag to find only one ticket, I frantically search the bag  as if it was given to me by Mary Poppins.  Even the scary Active Child artwork hasn’t hid it.  Looks like they only put one in the bag .

Smoke Fairies - Gastown

I reach Rough Trade, calm, and open up the dialect.  I can see the look straight away, “chancer”.  After a little discussion, using my honest and trustworthy manner, the chap went and spoke to the boss.  He came back, apologised and asked if I could hang about while he counted the 700 tickets they had against the sales to see if he indeed only gave me one.  I don’t think so… I wrote my name and number on the receipt, gave him the other ticket and said call me once he had done the count.

Back on the train, slightly flustered, something dawns on me…..I did have one ticket and the evidence that I had bought two.  Now, in a classic nutty incident I thought it clever to give the receipt, my evidence of the  purchase, back to the teller.  Not only that, I thought it wise to give back the ticket I actually had!  Lets reassess, now I have no tickets and no evidence that I bought them at all.  A shake the head moment.

So tomorrow, I will make my way back to Rough Trade, on the train…..trying to think how the hell I am going to approach the conversation about them owing me two tickets.  What a doofus.  Just to clarify I have had no call from the guy who sold me the stuff, and I say guy because I didn’t even get his name.

Aquaglass

Truck Monster

I hate camping at festivals.  At 8am I poked my head out of the tent after having zero sleep, despite drinking a tanker full of cider.  I had tried to tactically locate my tent as close to what I deemed to be the “quiet zone” of a festival, a myth I so hoped would be true.  Clearly not, as “kids” babbled about inane crap all night long, I wouldn’t of minded so much if their chat tickled me or even provoked thought. I tried to put on my iPod and listen to Phosphorescent, my sleepy music of choice at the moment, but it seemed I had made two school boy errors, not charging my iPod and not bringing ear plugs. 

Great start to the day after a not so good Saturday of Music!  After the har rose from my ocean like mind I realised that there was something wrong with my jaw. I could open it enough to talk but that’s about it, any wider and I’m was in excruciating pain.  It seriously felt like I had been punched in the face by Andre the Giant and my jaw was incredibly angry at that.  Its quite disconcerting thinking about what happened in your sleep to cause a dislocated jaw like pain in the morning.

Anyway, I brushed off the dust and headed to my friends place for a shower and some breakfast – with the thought that I should just head back to London and put this ridiculous experience down to fate. 

Keyboard Choir

Its amazing what a shower can do to your mood. Clean but still hungover I made my way back to give Truck another chance.  Arrived at 12 and headed straight to the Beathive to catch Keyboard Choir.  The tent was full of robots, the costumes were brilliant..  I have to be honest the Keyboard Choir were entertaining with their upbeat electronica and sampling keeping the broken audience alive – I seriously didn’t think I’d be dancing round at midday on Sunday in amongst an army of robots. Loved it.

It turns out that was the highlight of the day for me.  I took a wonder again and trawled through the site looking for another gem.  I just couldn’t find it and with my pulsating jaw pain and the fact that eating had become a challenge in itself I was losing patience.  I had to push food through my mouth and anything harder than yogurt had become impossible to eat.  I had gone back in time and required baby food to survive.

I set myself up in the glorious sunshine at the Market Stage and listened to some Americana that Bob Harris had chosen to play. 

The Cedars

The first was The Cedars, a band fronted by a Scottish girl with a lovely voice.  I did feel I could be back in 1950’s listening to roots music. Enjoyable for an early Sunday afternoon. 

I remained at the Market Tent and caught some of the set by Two Fingers of Firewater, I do love the pedal steel guitar and they put it to use on a couple of tunes, so it kept me interested for a while.  They were good, just not brilliant.  I did float between the Market Tent and Beathive over the next few hours not catching anything worth mentioning. The day went downhill rapidly.

I was trying my up-most to stay positive, but I was sleep deprived, hungry, and in need of some entertainment.  I went to the Barn Stage to listen to Little Fish, delivered by singer-songwriter Julia Sophia.  The set started with energy from the bands perspective, but I think they just forgot to plug into the audience.  It was fairly boring for me although the power of her voice and her energy could be harnessed for a better cause.

That was it for me.  I quit.  Headed to the railway to bumble back to London.  I missed some acts I wanted to see, but I couldn’t quite put up with the potential for disappointment or the fact that I might not get to bed till midnight.  Would of liked to see Pulled Apart By Horses, Egyptian Hip Hop and Blood Red Shoes.  We will meet again I’m sure.

A sentence to summarise Truck – “you are what you eat”

Aquaglass.

Alphabet Backwards

Train is the best way to travel through the UK, although if I were able to move by boat then I would but, for now, the railway will do.  I am on my way back from Truck Festival 13 – earlier than I had anticipated – an independent and small festival set in Steventon, Oxfordshire. It boasts of attracting around 5,000 people every year, although I feel that this figure will not be reported this year.

I arrived on the Saturday morning about 12pm, after a somewhat off the cuff wine drinking affair with a good friend of mine the night before.  We ate some fairly good Italian food although my experience was tainted by the speed of service. I’m not asking for fast food but food that does arrive before I have drank too much and it then rarely matters if I’m eating a Findus Crispy Pancake or a rack of ribs on a bed softly mashed potato and crispy courgette strips. 

Last of the High Kings

The evening ended with us watching a film that I had never seen before, Last of the High Kings, a 1996 coming of age film with a decent soundtrack.  Now I intend to watch this again when I’m sober to ensure that I was not impaired by the alcohol, however I did chuckle at the line  “We should do that all the time!”.  I can relate to that coming of age experience – although maybe not with the same energy and grace that Jared Leto achieved!

Anyway I digress.  Truck Festival describes itself as “a village fete meets Woodstock”, and it certainly did have the feel of a village  but without the fete. The definition of the French word fete is a festival, celebration or party.  To be honest it had none of this for me.  My energy was being sapped as I walked around – the atmosphere wasn’t there -  a village with no purpose, a lack of community, and no ambition.  I have been to Truck before and  experienced the opposite previously but on this occasion I felt let down and I hadn’t even seen any music.

As with most festivals I attend I always go blind in the hope that I will come across some unexpected delight. The first act I saw were local band Alphabet Backwards who were a happy pop ensemble on the Village Pub Stage.  Not infectious enough to grab people and bounce them round the room but nice all the same.  I moved down to the Beat Hive and caught the end of Spaceships are Cool, all kitted out in their orange jump suits, they seemed to have an interesting folk noise but I can’t make a judgment as I only caught the last song.

I meandered around the festival checking out the local shops and things; it is a small festival and easy enough to move around.  I like the fact that the local Rotary Club flips burgers, which are expensive but a necessary food product.  They have a couple of bars which serve local beers and ales and also a sweet shop where the local vicar puts a day’s work in. Nice touches – but still not enough to create the atmosphere I am after.  Is it my expectations that are the problem?

My friend recommended I check out Tellison.  There set confused me.  I normally can’t get enough of simple music -what I mean by simple music is American Rock, think Weezer, Blink 182, and any other band who has played on a teen drama sound track. This is what Tellison reminded me of live and as much as I tried to enjoy it I couldn’t.  I think I need complicated music to help me deal with all the shit that is in my head right now.

Active Child

There were a lot of average bands this year, maybe I am just unlucky,  but it was frustrating that I hadn’t stumbled upon a gem yet, that was until I happened upon Active Child. He started by playing the harp within a background of synth-pop but what took me by surprise were the vocals. He was singing so high at times I could feel my inner ear on the verge of shattering.  Some of the songs were shear brilliance, although I did find the high pitch voice slightly weird at times. Exciting and a recomendation.

65 Days of Static

                      I had consumed a considerable amount of cider by now, and even a few JagerBombs which  I expected would help my mood and improve some of the sound – wishful thinking at that point.   Unfortunately I missed Darwin Deez, who by all accounts is very entertaining.  The only other band worth mentioning is 65 days of static, I actually loved this set – or my jagerbomb fuelled body loved this set.  I came out of it with a grin and a feeling I had been plugged into a nuclear power station – the energy was incredible. The sound flew round the room, I felt like I had a puppet master controlling my limbs as I danced, jumped and sweated to the music.  They saved day 1 of the festival for me.  I was content.

Everything else was a damp squib, a couple more average sets, a tasty Chilli dish from a vendor who seemed to be only open for 30min at 11.30pm and then disappeared.  I still wonder if that actually happened.  I was in my tent by 12:30pm, drunk, disappointed and not looking forward to the restless night ahead.

Aquaglass x