End of the Road Festival 2011 Saturday
Wild Beasts, Okkervil River, The Unthanks, Gruff Rhys, Bob Log III, Austra and more
Article written by
Various Writers - Sep 18, 2011
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Austra
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Day Two. There’s no time for an ice-cream, burrito brunch or a sordid bag of liquorice, for Jolie Holland has emerged onto the Garden Stage. This ex-Be Good Tanya offers up bluesy folk that has you enraptured in an instant. With her strong Texan accent, she creates a warm and calming atmosphere without ever stumbling into dullness or predictability. Tom Waits is a big fan apparently; she’s no doubt recruited a few followers today.
From folky takes to spooky, electro-pop in the Big Top. Canadians Austra’s main weapon is singer Katie Stelmanis’ rich and soaring voice; importantly she seems to appreciate the need for restraint and doesn’t ever allow it to smother the synth & drums-led tunes - musically, think a gentler Ladytron. Their costumes, dancing and general antics are all very otherworldly and they’re perhaps trying too hard to present a mystical persona, but when they launch into ‘Lose It’ with pitch-perfect harmonies - ensuring End of the Road’s first, brazen “pop music” moment - you’d forgive them anything. (It must be noted however that, at this festival, any performance not featuring denim or a beard is a welcome visual respite).
Gruff Rhys
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After a quick refuelling with a green curry pie, it’s time to head to the Woods Stage for Gruff Rhys. The furry man from Pembrokeshire has brought with him one heck of a backing band – surf-rockers Y Niwl – and songs such as ‘Lonesome Words’ and ‘Shark Ridden Waters’ benefit hugely from the beefy, Link Wray-esque twangs. It’s not all been surfed-up however. ‘Sensations in the Dark’ and the superbly titled ‘If We Were Words (We Would Rhyme)’ rightly remain within their usual, sweet arrangements. The highlight has to be ‘In a House with No Mirrors’, taken from the bonkers album ’The Terror of Cosmic Loneliness’ – a simple, catchy melody accompanied with fuzzy bursts of no-nonsense guitars and occasionally peppered with a high-pitched shriek. It seems to be all over in a flash and it’s been unwaveringly upbeat from start to finish. Great, late-afternoon fun.
Wooden Shjips
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Time for Wooden Shjips and an undeniable change of mood. If drone rock and motorik rhythms don’t feature in your definition of entertainment, it was probably best to avoid the Big Top at this moment. Although to be fair, even those running for the trees would surely have failed to escape the racket entirely. The bass lines, keyboards, and drum patterns rumble along in steady, almost deafening, fashion and the only deviation is provided by a mumbled vocal or psychedelic wig-out. Heads are bobbing slowly and there’s slight shuffling from side-to-side while staring at the ground – both on and off the stage – the place is like a zombie jamboree (post-song applauding, aside). They may not be the most animated of bands but the intensity and focus on display is wonderful, and yes – there are damn fine tunes on offer, albeit fifteen minute ones.
As night approaches, a huge crowd is gathering at the Woods Stage for Wild Beasts. Smother, their recent, synth-heavy album unsurprisingly takes up the bulk of the set and it’s delivered flawlessly. The band sound amazing and the contrasting voices of Hayden Thorpe and Tom Fleming complement each other very nicely indeed.
Wlid Beasts
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The problem is the new material doesn’t seem to inject much excitement, or emotion into the thousands of onlookers; maybe it’s an album best heard in a dark, enclosed space rather than a field - it’s difficult to tell whether people are utterly absorbed or slightly bored. ‘Lion’s Share’ and ‘Loop the Loop’ both buck the trend somewhat but otherwise it’s down to older songs like ‘Devil’s Crayon’, ‘Hooting & Howling’ and, of course, the splendidly filthy ‘All the King’s Men’ to bring the set to life. Neither a clear success or failure...an open verdict.
It’s chilly now and not even a Tia Maria & Americano can warm the blood. The only option is the Big Top and more extremely loud, psychedelic-rock; this time courtesy of The Black Angels. The tent is rammed and for good reason (nowt to do with the weather), this Texas five-piece excel in the garage-rock end of psychedelia. The ludicrously catchy ‘Sunday Afternoon’ is pure 13th Floor Elevators while the likes of ‘Bad Vibrations’ and ‘True Believers’ build into hazy walls of noise. Heading back out into the cold with ears ringing and head throbbing, it’ll be impossible to hear another act tonight, let alone enjoy one. Time to go, but it’s been yet another fine day in Dorset. (by Pete W)
Of course for some the highlight of a festival will be a fifteen minute uke wank by a former woodcutter from Arkansas or half an hour queueing at the Rough Trade tent in order to get a CD signed by a bassoonist. Personally I’d rather spend my time in the company of Bob Log III.
Bob Log
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Having seen him last year, there was no element of surprise this time around but it doesn’t remove the fun derived from watching a man perform ramshackle blues on a guitar and drums while wearing a shiny navy blue jumpsuit and a full face crash helmet. It’s not so much the music, which is fast and unrefined psychobilly effectively, but the ‘tween track banter, delivered in his Arizona drawl. Every other sentence is a double entendre and while tracks like ‘I Want Your Shit On My Knee’ won’t win an Ivor Novello, the feat of trying to perform while five girls sit on your knee deserves an award for something. (by Paul M)
I suspect that the school reports of Beth Jeans Houghton were full of adjectives like “feisty”, “strong-willed” and “gobby”. This is a spirited start to Saturday, the sun inevitably breaking through the clouds as BJH’s nicely dirty-minded songs blow away Friday-night hangovers. An exuberant, extrovert personality, she has great range, by turns high and operatic and low and bluesy, and she finishes her set in style, with a punk-pop blast that sets nerves tingling like a Red Bull overdose.
There are some bands here who perform excellent versions of others’ songs – Caitlin Rose’s cover of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘That’s Alright’ and Wild Nothing doing Kate Bush’s ‘Cloudbusting’, for example. Meanwhile Denmark’s Treefight for Sunlight perform an abortion of a cover of ‘Wuthering Heights’. The singer’s falsetto would be an amusing pisstake if it lasted 20 seconds but to eke it out for a whole song, while the band mangle the accompaniment, is like going round to Kate’s, defecating on her doorstep, then ringing the bell and running away. Anything I could have said about their so-so sunshine-pop is lost in the nightmare memory of that song.
Having recently read (and would most definitely recommend) James Yorkston’s book, his dry humour is very welcome on a muggy Saturday afternoon. It’s a very funny and laidback performance from JY and his band (Emma on violin and Sarah on clarinet), punctuated by fits of giggles when Sarah can’t conclude her solo as James is playing the wrong chords. There’s a wonderful acapella treatment by the three of ‘Tortoise Regrets Hare’ and their arrangement of ‘Queen of Spain’ makes you fall in love with that already near-perfect song all over again.
The most polite man on the planet is Daniel Martin Moore from Cold Springs, Kentucky. His Americana is heartfelt and deeply spiritual, rooted in the land and the songs of its people. He performs ‘Cool of the Day’ by Kentuckian folk singer Jean Ritchie (“one of my heroes”) and then gets political, denouncing Big Coal’s practicing of blowing up Appalachian mountains to stripmine coal in ‘Flyrock Blues’ and directing people for more info to: http://www.ilovemountains.org/. Folk hero!
The Unthanks
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The Unthanks have a clog in the past and a nicely turned slipper in the mainstream these days. They still sing about cows and coal mines but now there’s a string section, intricate arrangements, and a cover of a King Crimson song. But it’s all to the good as those things haven’t taken away from the focus on the purity of Rachel and Becky’s voices, which have the singular power of folk music. M Ward’s a fascinating mix of old and new – old-timey Americana played by a bloke at the piano or on slide guitar wearing a baseball cap. He’s the sort of songwriter of melancholic but catchy numbers that you’d lump in with people like Ry Cooder and Van Dyke Parks, rather than Morrissey, say, a real virtuoso who can sounds like he should be heard on a Victrola one minute before he drops in a Daniel Johnson number the next.
Okkervil River
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The last time Okkervil River were at EOTR, they were a welcome late addition; now they’re eagerly-anticipated headliners. For Saturday night, they don’t do anything subtle – they dig out their stadium rock set and crank up the volume. From the stomping glam-rock of ‘The Valley’ and the tropicalia of ‘Your Past Life As A Blast’, to ‘Lost Coastlines’ with its propulsive Motown beat and the careening ‘Our Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe’, these are audience-pleasers for this cider-crazed crowd. There are only a couple of slower songs: the traditional mid-set breather, ‘A Stone’, is wasted as the crowd stupidly cheer each of the several false endings, while ‘John Allyn Smith Sails’ always attracts mixed opinions, from those who think the song poetic, poignant and cleverly arranged to those who believe the way that Sheff shanghais the traditional ‘Sloop John B’ is a bit slapdash and irreverent (the crowd kept hooting regardless – probably thought it was a Beach Boys cover). Tonight you saw a band a world away from their poetic, folky origins, with the skills to please big crowds. My only advice to Will Sheff is, if you must play the on-stage demagogue, learn where you are; generic references to the beauty of the area makes it otherwise sound like the “hello Cleveland” soundbite of every stadium rock band. (by Ged M)
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