Week Commencing: 29/8/05
By: Toby L
Ill,
As heck. I think camping in two consecutive festival weekends (in Britain) is enough to make anyone consider strapping themselves to a bed for a half-decade (or at least until next year's events), resuscitating themselves with indulgent binges of 'Family Guy' and Indian take-aways.
What happened to my youth? I'm 20. But I can't stand camping anymore. I love the bands. F**k, I do. But all that tent bollocks? Maybe from the years 14 to 18. But no longer. If I want someone to wee on me through canvas at 3 in the morning whilst freezing my todger off, as surrounding teenagers commit petty offences whilst pissed off their heads, I'll arrange my own private apocalypse, thank you very much.
So V Festival, Secret Garden, and Carling Weekend all passed with much commotion, and (thanks to the music), beauty. We've already brought you a massiiive review on the former, and a huge report on the latter is due imminently (Pixies and Arcade Fire - bless you both). So we thought we'd just scribe a few thoughts on that other event.
... Which occurred last weekend concurrently with V (19-21/8/05) in a field or two in Cambridgeshire. An idyllic field or two, for that matter. The Secret Garden is quite unlike any outdoor music event you've ever attended. For one, the food is actually half-decent (some of the finer portions of chips we've indulged in, and those ham/cheese toasties were deceptively tasteful), and the setting is deliriously picturesque; an acid-hammerer's dream... rolling, lushly green hills, flowing lakes, and thoughtfully laid-out stage settings. All in all: gorgeous.
And the line-up was befitting to such environs - the deranged Clor (current Band of the Week) pummelled with electrical pizzazz and a barely-eighteen bassist that looked like a 'Happy Days' cast drop-out, making the trance addicts dance;Super Furry Animals lived up to opener 'Slow Life' by performing their entire performance at, in commendable/subconscious John Peel homage, the half the usual speed (gotta love that hash and 1am onstage arrival)... still, 'The Man Don't Give A F**k' and 'Hello Sunshine' were worth the effort; Desmond Dekker & The Aces fulfilled the obligatory ska fortitude that one and all should savour and respect in a weekend otherwise absent of legends; 'sex machine' and old crooner/mouth-trumpeter extraordinaire Earl Okin did his usual - namely, ironic covers ('Teenage Dirtbag'), and his own twisted stuff; Regina Spektor (whose album we get to release...! Via Transgressive Records in Oct) did a blinder, unveiling tunes such as 'Us' and 'Dance Anthem of the 80s' in sumptuous, sing-along aplomb; ditzy, weirdo pan-bashers Mystery Jets performed their best anthem yet - 'The Boy Who Ran Away'; The Noisettes did the impromptu thang after an epic, very rock Friday night wig-out, by plugging in outdoors on Sunday and doing a requests-only, lo-fi guerrilla set (of which, 'Signs' was a notably adorable racket); and Hard-Fi packed the field with a crowd-pleasing bunch of Mercury Music Prize-approved dance-indie classics.
Redjetson, finally, on the smaller stage, were so commendable with lush and epic post-rockings, we've booked them for a low-key set at our September Basement Club (full details: click on the banner above; news-story to follow... it's back after summer out). They support Bloc Party in October; catch them.
Thus. In all - a beltin', captivatingly and diverse, ambient weekend. We're so returning next year. Not such a secret anymore, is it?
All the regulars in our next edition. We're now going to have some medicine.