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End of the Road - Sunday 2008: Brakes / Calexico / Tindersticks / Smoke Fairies / Darren Hanlon / Wave Pictures / Billy Childish and more
Dorset, Larmer Tree Gardens,
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Article
written by Various Writers
Oct 12, 2008.
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| Congregation @ End of the Road |
Congregation kick off the final day in the Big Top. The London two-piece start proceedings well - a nice blend of soulful vocals and classic blues guitar that’s more Depression-era America than 21st Century England. After fifteen minutes, the initial enthusiasm has waned considerably. It’s not that the songs have necessarily declined in quality; it’s just that there isn’t enough variation on offer, and you end up with the feeling that the band’s stuck in a bit of a loop (albeit an inoffensive, foot-tapping one).
Next up on the Garden Stage is a band that could never outstay their welcome. A Wave Pictures set is always a pleasure, but on this gorgeously sunny afternoon you’d be hard pressed to find better lo-fi, joyous indie pop anywhere, let alone in Larmer Tree Gardens.
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| Wave Pictures @ End of the Road |
Frontman Tattersall fills the air with tales of sunshine resembling spaniels, girls drooling over his “beautiful belly”, as well as odd but catchy musings about marmalade. Thankfully his exquisite diction is matched by the quality of the trio's music (they even get away with a bass AND a drum solo, though only just), and the closing ‘Long Island’ encapsulates this perfectly – a tune so immediate and lovable, I was left humming the chorus for the next five hours.
The moment Tindersticks arrive on stage, however, all humming is over. Stuart Staples and co. may not be the chattiest creatures around, but who cares when they can produce such melancholic magic? Alas, no room for the likes of ‘Travelling Light’ tonight; instead the set draws heavily from this year’s ‘Hungry Saw’ LP, with the title track and ‘The Other Side of the World’ being particular highlights. The band has lost three original members since the last album but the accompaniment of a string and brass section more than compensates for their absence; and while Staples’ sombre baritone has lost none of its tear-inducing potency, new song ‘Boobar Come Back to Me’ is packed with such sweet melody and arrangement, it’s the nearest the band has come to writing a pop song. Absorbing and heart-warming with every note, Tindersticks truly are a class act.
If Stuart Staples is shyness personified, then Calexico’s Joey Burns is sang-froid incarnate. The man is easy-going and chatty without ever being annoying or conceited; he even manages to wrangle a few free pints from the Cider Bus, but in keeping with the community spirit, simply hands the drinks to the crowd and encourages a “sip-and-pass-on” policy. As far the music goes, Calexico throw in as many genres, instruments and languages (well, two) as they can, and yet no matter if it’s the Mariachi horns, the glockenspiel, spooky rock, or alt-country taking centre stage, it never feels out of place. Whenever they threaten to undo all the good work, like with their god-awful, beauty-free cover of Love’s ‘Alone Again, or’ (inexplicably, a fan favourite), they deliver a mini-masterpiece like the brass drenched ‘Two Silver Trees’, or the irresistible ‘Crystal Frontier’. A few sound and technical problems aside, the hour-plus set races past without incident. You couldn’t ask for a more friendly, unpretentious, and cider-sharing band; in other words - the perfect act to bring this festival’s main stage to a close. (Pete W)
When I saw Liz Green at EOTR last year – I say “saw” but I was stuck at the entrance to a crammed Local tent, hearing her incredible voice but seeing nothing through the throng – it was reported that she’d burst into tears because so many people were interested in her. A year on and she’s added a very competent band and some excellent banter (“I’ve been learning keys, I’ve been learning chords and I don’t care for either of them”) but the songs and especially that voice are as special as ever. She’s from Manchester but her throaty bluesy voice is from somewhere long ago and far away.
I didn’t mean to stay and watch Jason Molina but the Songs:Ohia and Magnolia Recording Co frontman won’t let me go. His records follow too well-travelled roads for my liking but live he’s absolutely riveting. There’s no stereotypical trucker hat and plaid shirts for him (that’s what the crowd’s wearing); he’s in preacher suit, skinny necktie and a haircut that suggests that Hoxton has exported the fin to middle America.
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| Billy Childish and band @ End of the Road |
His songs are dark and evocative of haunted, mythical America, sounding like Neil Young with a twist of Will Oldham. I want to leave, I keep thinking I’ll go after one more song but I’m there until he plays the last notes, when the spell suddenly lifts.
With his military uniform (the Carnaby Street Irregulars, I surmise) I’d have thought a muddy field would be right up his trenchline but it turns out that Billy Childish isn’t that keen on festival manoeuvres. However, he likes this one; this afternoon he is affable, witty and engages with the audience like some indie Mix Miller. The cheeky chappie and his band – Wolf and Nurse Julie – have no extraneous effects, they simply plug in and play their furious and funny garage rock that stands up and salutes Sir Raymond Davies and his regiment of Kinks. They also acknowledge the influence of other bands: Billy and co blast out covers of slightly more recent songs very well: the Who, Alternative TV and a blistering version of Link Wray’s Comanche. I’ve not seen Billy in such effusive form before - fantastic entertainment and cracking music.
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| Darren Hayman @ End of the Road |
The Hefner songs have proved a lucrative sideline for Darren and Jack but this is the last time that they’ll play them – probably just as well given the nostalgic-for-the-90s comments I overhear in the audience. Backed by the Wave Pictures, this is a run through of most of Hefner’s greatest hits, although Darren’s admittedly very funny banter cuts short the setlist. It all ends with the guilty pleasure of ‘The Day That Thatcher Dies’ (if you show me the way to her grave, I’ll bring my dancing shoes and a full bladder) and a three-handed solo by Messrs Hayter, Tattersall and Hayman where Tattersall wins on technique but Hayman has the audience vote as he wrings out the final notes of the Hefner legacy (for now) and sets course for ‘Pram Town’ and beyond.
Another Darren, Darren Hanlon, is the most engaging Australian since Crocodile Dundee and Skippy. He’s self-effacing, funny and easygoing, full of tales (earlier in the day he's been in the Storyteller’s Club) and is happy to accept requests. He switches between guitar and banjo and sings one song fearlessly acapella. His songs are bittersweet and joyous and give you a fillip just at the point where you start to feel the pull of the festival's decaying orbit that will soon have you re-entering the world.
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| Smoke Fairies @ End of the Road |
Smoke Fairies take the stage just as the last light drains from the sky and the festival lights seem to burn with a last-night-of-carnival luminosity. It’s the perfect time for Jessica and Katherine’s haunted Southern Gothic tales. The girls’ smart frocks and Sunday best shoes initially look a little incongruous against their wonderfully dark folk and spine-tingling blues but that’s dismissed like will o’ the wisps as soon as they start singing and playing, their delivery conjuring up all sorts of haints and boogers. My one criticism is that they maintain the crepuscular tone maybe a little too long; the occasional glimmer of light would be welcome.
My first encounter with the Mountain Goats live isn’t an especially happy one, having to traverse one of the outer circles of hell, full of the equivalent of braying Shoreditch knobs, to reach a spot among proper fans. John Darnielle is like an excitable professor, preceding his characterful, dialogue-rich songs with long introductions but I’m sure great songs like ‘This Year’ and ‘No Children’ would find their own singalong levels in more intimate venues and with more sympathetic audiences than a circus tent full of drunken clowns.
Brakes in the Big Top rounded off our festival. EOTR is acting as newlywed Eamon Hamilton’s wedding reception so there’s a slightly ragged, pissed-up, dad-dancing sense of inebriated joy in their set (mirrored in every sighting of Brakes all weekend). Three renditions of ‘Cheney’, some Krautrocking dance music, a blast of country and Eamon’s own tales of the Gloucestershire countryside make thoughts of the journey home more palateable but it’s the angry punk blast of ‘Hold Me In The River’ and ‘Porcupine or Pineapple’ that best fills us with the energy to go home. And makes us want to come back next year… (Ged M)
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