Indietracks Festival: Sunday: The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, Shrag, The Blanche Hudson Weekend, The Millipedes, The Loves and more
Midland Railway, Butterley, Derbyshire
Article written by
Various Writers - Aug 7, 2010
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Specific Heats
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There are fewer sights to see when we have our traditional pre-festival wander this morning: no exhibition shed open, no llamas, and we hear a tale of having to sell a prize loco for £1m. We hope this is just temporary and that Indietracks has been able to contribute to the continued viability of the Midland Steam Railway – beer sales alone should have added a hefty sum to the coffers after this weekend. Some of that will be down to the Ballboy wedding party, whose kilted hordes we spot this morning, although their breakfast table is disappointingly continental rather than Scottish fare – maybe the croissants were all filled with deep-fried Mars bars.
The Specific Heats play a stunning set and, strangely, nothing goes wrong! It’s a excellent, energetic mix of bubblegum pop and reverb-heavy garage-rock. For a supremely young band (only Keira on drums looks as though she might not struggle to be served in a bar) they know their Nuggets, as well as having more than a passing knowledge of later rumble-fiends like Man Or Astro Man. They showcase the great new Cursed! record and the set passes too quickly in a tremolo haze of fuzz and paisley. (by Ged M)
The Loves
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The Loves are always entertaining and they have to be today to make the choice of missing the Blanche Hudson Weekend worthwhile. Thankfully Simon doesn’t disappoint, resembling the sort of sinister character you’d expect to be delivering coal in Royston Vasey, he sports not only a splendid black cape but also a rather nifty ‘tache. Liz School guests on vocals for old time’s sake in the absence of Jenna and over the half hour we get gorgeous go-go girls (in three ever more revealing sets of outfits), Jimmy from the Bobby McGees dressed in a sheet (supposedly Jesus but looking more like a psycho in bedwear) and plenty of their trademark 60s garage pop tunes. I’m nursing a chronic hangover and definitely paying far too much attention to the dancers but between eggy burps and rogue muscle twitches I pick out future single ‘Bubblegum’, ‘Boom-a-Bang-Bang-Bang’, ‘Xs and Os’ and a favourite Loves track, the Louie Louie inspired I My She Love You. Now sober and stonkerless, I’m not even sure that any of this happened.
Tracklist: Bubblegum, Xs & Os, That Boy Is Mine, Boom-A-Bang-Bang-Bang, I My She Love You, Can You Feel My Heart Beat?, December Boy, It's...The End Of The World, I Want Love & Affection (Not The House Of Correction).
An IndieTracks festival without witnessing a gig on the train would be like going to Lourdes and spending the day eating fried chicken. It’s a spiritual moment, shared with a small group of fellow worshippers in a very cramped guard’s van. The two performers this time, Paisley and Charlie, are a boy/girl duo from Sussex, who do rather sweet pop, mainly about their love for each other. At times it feels like the audience of thirty or so are grubby voyeurs, peering on as the pair of them finger each other with their light melodies and affectionate words, while we wait for them to get over the acoustic formalities and get their kit off. It doesn’t happen but the tunes, especially Stone Lions, are rather lovely, nevertheless. (by Paul M)
Blanche Hudson Weekend
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I give up half of the Loves’ set (the more salacious segment) to dash to the indoor stage to catch The Blanche Hudson Weekend. In a neat piece of circularity, they play exactly a year after the Manhattan Love Suicides split up, right on the eve of their appearance at Indietracks 2009. The BHL are louder and brasher than on their most recent record, sculpting walls of warm, fuzzy guitar pop around Caroline’s anguished vocals. You hear the same influences as there were with the Manhattan Love Suicides - JAMC, MBV, VU, Ronettes - but there’s a greater sense of fun. Suicide once released an album called 23 Minutes Over Brussels, recording the riot that their confrontational style prompted; the Blanche Hudson Weekend’s 22 Minutes Over Butterley has the opposite effect, leaving us basking in the bliss of noisepop heaven. But not for long…As the last sobs of feedback die down on the indoor stage, Trev and I run to the church to catch the last show ever by The Millipedes. We enter to hear them covering the Shandells’s ‘Go Go Gorilla’, followed by their own tales of zombies, wolfmen and alien invasion, Reenie and crew playing it with just the right amount of comedy and irreverence. They’re the Tim Burtons of indiepop and their schlock-horror-rock will be much missed.
Shrag
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I’d heard that Standard Fare looked a little intimidated at Latitude but the Indietracks stage seems to be more to their scale and liking. It sounds like the best bits of Britpop, full of hook-filled heartfelt songs fronted by Emma's blissfully crystal voice, and the icing on the indiepop cake comes from Brad San Martin of One Happy Island who adds gorgeous trumpet flourishes. With songs as wonderful as ‘Dancing’ and ‘Philadephia’, they’re about to soar like rockets. It’s surprising that Shrag haven’t played a festival before because they’re one of the best things about this year’s Indietracks and they work well on a big stage. Partly it’s their sound; I don’t like to use words like “engine room” but there’s a powerful force underpinning their music, allowing guitar and keyboards to add light and shade. And Helen’s songs aren’t just the shouty pop of Riot Grrl but are more like dark nightmares come to life, wonderfully coloured in by the band. There’s room for some oldies like the ace ‘Mark E Smith’ but basically they’re playing the October-due album which sounds like it’ll be utterly amazing.
Slow Club have surprised me in being popular enough to spend this summer at every festival going (and this is the last UK one for some time – next stop Japan!). They have some nice-enough folk-tinged pop songs and very beautiful harmonies but it’s a limited format that doesn’t hold my attention as much as the boots worn by the blue haired woman in front of me, which have a “vegetarian shoes” label. My mind is diverted to considering whether animal-free shoes are ethically better than footwear made from petroleum products and I completely tune out of the duo pootling pleasantly in the background. The Pooh Sticks receive a massive welcome from the indietrackers although I was never really convinced first time round by the South Walian send up merchants with their clever slogans on flimsy placards. But whether you find it arch and ironic or not, Hue Pooh composed some catchy tunes and the reformed band, with Amelia Fletcher joining them on backing vocals, are rabble-rousingly loud, shouty and sweaty. (by Ged M)
Gordon McIntyre’s show is full of charm, pathos and apologies. Apologies for only having an hour or so to prepare for this impromptu show in the church. Apologies to his girlfriend for performing ‘sex is boring’ last night with Ballboy in case we should think it a story about their relationship. We bask in the warm optimism of ‘Disney’s ice parade’ and learnt how lesbian sex came to be in the song. We are crushed by an ash cloud of melancholy as Gordon spoke of the link between ‘slow days’ and John Peel’s death. It’s not possible to truly know someone else’s heart, but listening to Gordon, you feel as close as anyone could possibly come. His is a generosity borne of instinct, not exhortation or from conscious virtue. The man is a genius. (by Alex S)
The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart
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As previously mentioned, The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart close Sunday night’s festivities. Though they have the longest setting up and the most technicians, they do the most to break down the wall between audience and performer; if Tony Blair were still living on planet earth, he’d name them “the indie people’s band”. Their style is democratic too, just four people strung in a line in front of Kurt Feldman’s drum riser, as if they’re nothing without each other. As for the music, they play everything they’ve got, from an ethereal ‘Higher Than The Stars’ to their self-titled anthem and its rallying call: “we will never die”. That would have been a perfect ending but after than the encore was an extra indulgence for the crowd. Great music, fine people - they’ll be discovering a cure for cancer next. (by Ged M)
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