Having been surprised by the popularity of the National when they headlined the Word Tent last year, there’s little more to say on the subject other than that there are Even More People totally enraptured by them.
Having been surprised by the popularity of the National when they headlined the Word Tent last year, there’s little more to say on the subject other than that there are Even More People totally enraptured by them.
It’s not what it used to be when it was smaller. It’s full of kids/drunk teens/people getting wet. Ooh there was a bit of mud. It’s very middle class isn’t it? Yeah yeah. Latitudeis what it is. We went. We had fun. I saw more good bands than in the rest of the year put together…
Friday
Obviously it behoves a Sheffield family at large near the east coast to seek some wise counsel before embarking on such an adventure. So it’s comforting to be able to turn to John Shuttleworth early in proceedings. As Mrs H is a serial offender in the “two margarines on the go” stake, the children rarely wash their paintbrushes and have no compunction about mixing sweet and savoury, the old “truth in comedy” adage rang loudly and I am reassured by the proximity of good sense.
Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan’s odd couple act make for a very decent start to our music programme proper –10 feet apart, they barely acknowledged each other on stage except when there was a cock-up. Lanegan’s voice is a force of nature and Campbell writes wonderfully for it. The gentle brooding of the songs pretty much survives the open air and sunshine, and the big screen allows us to dwell just how close Lanegan is to turning into Tom Waits…
This is the fourth time I’ve had a ticket to see Bright Eyes and the first time I’ve actually made it to the gig. While I’ve really liked the records since falling for Lifted’s over-stuffed charms, it hadn’t bothered me that much; I mean his voice is a bit whiny isn’t it, and it’s all acoustic stuff… Dur. Conor Oberst doesn’t half make me regret the three missed opportunities. He might be jetlagged enough to be unsure of the day and time, but the diminutive Oberst with his black fringe and glasses strides onstage looking like nothing so much as Andrew Eldritch in his pomp. And the band amp up a handful of his finest songs in a way that would’ve raised the roof had there been one – especially when closing with a rabble rousing Road to Joy. It’s not the last time during the weekend that I reflect that the “indier” end of the American music I like doesn’t stint on putting on a show…
Later over in the woods Jenny and Johnny (who’d popped up in their old pal’s set helping to cover a Gillian Welch tune) match that on a smaller scale. Their simple, Richman-like garage tunes carry unashamedly smart lyrics and exude fun in a way that, latterly, Jenny Lewis’s old band set-up Rilo Kiley really didn’t. Of course that was partly because a very full tent was having a marvellous time themselves.
Having been surprised by the popularity of the National when they headlined the Word Tent last year, there’s little more to say on the subject other than that there are Even More People totally enraptured by them. Even with this evidence I’d hesitate to press one of their records on anyone, they’re surely too personal, not immediate enough, but… Live they’ve matured into something like U2 with the bluster and ego replaced with self-doubt. There’s no doubt that outside on a summer’s evening some of the intensity does drift away on the wind, but the sheer wonder of some of their songs and the reception they’re afforded raises a tear in the eye. There’s something just as special about a big show as there is to an intimate one.
Saturday
“Daddy liked this man when he was little.” Adam Ant wins toddler points straight away by dressing as a pirate. He earns daddy points too – giving us most of the hits, going back to Car Trouble even, with an oddly understated showmanship. His voice doesn’t quite hold out, but there’s a bit of a new wave hard edge to the music that reminds you that he wasn’t originally a comedy turn and that he’s not just an 80s disco experience now either. Not really nostalgic for me, since I experienced him as a panto pop act – more a history lesson.
Also fully geared up to earn both toddler and daddy points, despite the pissing rain at the main stage, are They Might Be Giants. It’s an all-too-short set mixing grown-up and kiddies’ songs, some of which are simply top quality songs in their own right. They get down to some proper entertainment (albeit as they point out with many of their songs being about death and misery) even managing to make decent use of their sock puppet alter egos. Their ebullient tunefulness even makes the dread words (at a festival at least) “we’re going to play you a new one now” OK. The new album’s out any time now…
British Sea Power are an English band who can give the Yanks a run for their money in the showmanship stakes when on song. They’re free of their various adornments this afternoon and playing what is (again) all too short a set which has room only for the more straightforward crowd pleasers. But everything’s relative and beneath the surface even BSP’s crowd pleasers are fundamentally quite odd affairs. Even arch-sceptic Mrs H is forced to concede they make a fine fist of playing proper rock music.
And early afternoon that’s it for a sodden Saturday really. We do that festival semi-interested grazing thing, catching a couple of old Echo and the Bunnymen songs here, a bit of My Morning Jacket there (“Rush” Mrs H says firmly and sagely, as a cue to wander off) and a bit of bouncing to Paolo Nutini for the kids.
Sunday
A choir is almost always a good thing, and a number of Scala’s covers (When Doves Cry, Creep, that Marilyn Manson song) are fun enough. But away from those there’s some really quite grim stuff (a Tim fucking Rice song…) and that curious liking that persists among continental composers for 80s power percussion. Still it’s the sort of thing that goes down well when you’re half asleep on a festival Sunday morning and I’ll bet they’ve sold a few CDs that will sit on the shelves for years to come like a bottle of local firewater that just didn’t taste the same when you brought it back from holiday.
Anna Calvi follows them on to the main stage, to a surprisingly decent sized crowd. And she’s got a decent sized sound to go with it. Playing much the same set as I saw in a tiny Harley a few months back, she quite happily adjusts to the size of venue – she’s got leather lungs and some big songs to match. She still ain’t the new PJ Harvey though. In fact, sweeping 80s melodramatic pop songs, a liking for a bit of blues and a bit of the old chanson francaise? She might just be the new Ian McCullough. She certainly held our attention more than the old one.
Back over in the woods the Sunrise stage was always going to be a bit small for the Bees’ jaunty numbers. But as Mrs H says, “it’s not like they’re much to look at anyway” and it turns out that their sunshine tunes make a fine accompaniment for prancing about in damp bracken in the pouring rain. Who’dve thought?
Because of the rain we nearly bailed on the biggest surprise of the whole festival. Not having seen them live before, would it be worth sticking around for Eels’s lovely but quite downbeat pop we knew from the records? Fortunately the kids were actively enjoying the mud so we stayed. And saw a bloody marvellous show. E’s tongue might have been firmly in his cheek as the band marched on in regimented fashion, all suits and shades (and big beards) and he played up the showmanship, but it made for a straightforwardly uplifting experience. Although 60s pop horns, pop hooks and bluesy riffs are there in records of course, here the band magnified them to the nth degree with E’s frazzled whimper blossoming into a terrific rock voice. Seriously, a Blues Brothers revue wouldn’t have been half as fun, and there’s all the goodness of E’s bruised songs too. A thoroughly unexpected (to me at least) end to a festival that very much meets expectations. In a good way.
Being poncy and lacking in any rock ‘n roll credentials www.soundsxp.com went to Latitude and passed on their thoughts to the hard as nails speed freaks at Incendiary