All Tomorrows Parties - Butlins Holiday Camp, Minehead - 27-29/4/07
4/5
By: Chris O'Toole
As All Tomorrows Parties continues to grow, the event morphs ever closer to its more commercially minded compatriots. Not that the walls are now adorned with advertising hoardings for major American arms manufacturers, or that beer is supplied by one monolithic multi-national, but certain changes are certainly noticeable. For example, there are now 6,000 members of the audience - and the corresponding queues. No longer can you walk idly from one stage to the other absorbing whatever you may find; and to an extent this means you are now forced to plan your day, second guessing other revellers to the best spots, something which has slightly undermined the knowing camaraderie of previous years. There is also a main stage proper this year; a full blown festival platform replete with lighting rigs, twinkling star backdrop and burly security guards. Although, this is still the West Country, and even the security are polite and only too pleased to help.
Even in the face of these changes, however, the spirit of All Tomorrows Parties still shines through. The main stage is planted squarely in the middle of a Butlins holiday camp foyer surrounded by arcades, bouncy castles and countless other concessions to family entertainment. The crowds still amble about lurking behind their sunglasses, trying to maintain their cool credentials as they battle against go-karts, fairground rides and the least 'crazy' golf mankind has ever created. And whilst the location may have changed it is still the search for musical exploration, experimentation and entertainment that dominates the event.
Opening the main stage this year are The Only Ones, back on tour after they briefly lit the skyline above the wreckage of punk all those years ago. Nearly thirty years after their demise they return as if they had never been away. Lead, as always, by the inimitable Peter Perrett they careen through their back catalogue, which appears to be build from one single riff, before culminating with their iconic hit 'Another Girl, Another Planet'. Throughout Perrett performs the best impression of a stick insect that ATP has ever witnessed, looking somewhat ravaged by the years, but carrying the band and the weight of expectation with aplomb. Their set makes it obvious why they band were so lauded during their brief tenure and will surely have satisfied the ultra-fans present.
They are followed by the Dirty Three. Blowing in as if carried on a gust of wind from the sea, the band delivers their timpani heavy set, showcasing Warren Ellis on violin. This will be the first of 6 sets Ellis will play over the weekend and perhaps the one that most revolves around his virtuoso fiddle skills. At times the band are a vehicle for his playing, but after 15 years together they are no one man show, displaying a range wholesome, if twisted, instrumentation to create layers of sweet, lush sound with a ragged, grubby edge.
The two smaller stages of the festival were a showcase for less established acts, side projects and a seemingly endless cavalcade of explosive jazz. Sally Timms, formerly of the Mekons, took to the larger of these, the Centre Stage, early on Saturday to perform a solo set. Her voice was filled with a yearning simplicity, not too dissimilar to a female Leonard Cohen, carrying aches of emotion in her melodies. Supported by violin and accordion her set was simple yet powerful and marked a refreshing change from the occasionally indulgent efforts elsewhere.
Over on the final stage, Reds, Matana Roberts played a spell binding set on the Saxophone, reminiscent of John Coltrane during his spiritual phase.
Saturday also saw Low perform a slow, sombre set, largely drawn from their new album, 'Drums and Guns'. On record the band are largely built around close, dense atmospherics; a style that somewhat failed to translate to the cavernous space around the main stage. Whilst the two voices of Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker carried a great deal of emotional weight, their brooding intensity and posture was somewhat diluted under the summer sun.
It was, however, not until the apex of the weekend, late on Saturday night, that the true highlight of the event was revealed. The Drones played a frenetic set, one raucous, energetic explosion from start to end. Front man Gareth Liddiard conveys their emotive power through his onstage antics and agonised but aggressive vocals to tremendous affect. And when supported by the chaotic guitar playing of Rui Pereira and Fiona Kitschin on bass the result is mesmerising. On their records, Gala Mill and Float Long... they combine elements of macabre comedy, desolate introspection, poetic expression and stark beauty; live these are all amplified to create an awesome attack. Liddiard throws himself about as if possessed delivering shattered shards of emotive lyricism to create a truly beautiful sight.
The final day bought out some of the big names. Last year crowd congestion undermined the event for some festival goers, as they were unable to see their favourite acts. In response ATP allowed some acts to play twice so nobody would go without. However, this year there is a main stage proper and thus no congestion, but some acts still played twice, which was perhaps a little overkill. As such acts including Grinderman, Dirty Three and Nick Cave all played on both Saturday and Sunday, essentially to the same audience.
Not so with A Silver Mount Zion, who only played once, early on Sunday afternoon. They were perhaps one of the most disappointing bands of the weekend. Once Efrim's shocking inability to sing was beguiling and forgivable, when there were hopes that this was a passing, indulgent phase, and he would one day return to the Leviathan of Godspeed You! Black Emperor. But no more. The band limped through what seemed to be their entire back catalogue in meticulous detail, dragging their set over eons. Whilst they were never designed to be a festival band, the last thing any crowd can endure is this poorly conceived abomination passing off half finished post rock and emotional catharsis in the blinding sunlight.
Similarly disappointing was Cat Power. Recently Chan Marshall has hired a crack backing band in an attempt to disguise her mediocrity but even supported by the best musicians money can buy she still sounded like a pub singer who has become famous by mistake.
Yet once these acts had been given their fifteen minutes it was time for the main event; NickCave and Grinderman. Cave was naturally the star of both shows, but the dichotomy between the cerebral nuances demonstrated in his solo set and the primitive, base, posturing displayed with Grinderman was as stark as the lights in the seedy casinos and arcades that surrounded the stage.
Solo, Cave ran through a set of crowd pleasing hits and taking requests from the audience to great delight. The emotional intensity of his work translates well in this environment and carried both craft and subtlety even in this enormous space.
Grinderman however were a very different beast. With Cave moving to guitar the band unleashed waves of thrashing noise, glowering at the questioning eyes of the young and beautiful below. The set also featured Booby Gillespie on thunderous percussion and was unrivalled in sheer intensity. The set rapturously received by fans who may wait a very long time for another show by this new band. After years of wandering Cave has finally returned to his Birthday Party roots; a welcome return.
All Tomorrows Parties is getting bigger every year and thus is worth investigating sooner rather than latter. At times this event felt a touch incestuous, more of a celebration of Dirty Three and their friends than the truly open and inclusive festival it has been in previous years. Nonetheless, the event was remarkably successful; filled to the rafters and is sure to be a success in the coming years.
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