All Tomorrow’s Parties – Butlins Holiday Camp, Minehead – 18-20/5/07
5/5
By: Chris O'Toole
They were selling timeshares in the Blue Sky Holiday Resort in Minehead. For a very reasonable price we could be the proud owners of our own beach front apartments, with inclusive azure skies and all the family fun usually offered by a weekend at Butlins. And during another stellar All Tomorrows Parties weekend these properties became increasingly attractive; what better way to participate in the hippest festival in Somerset than to own your own tiny slice of it? Imagine; front row seats for every gig, luxury accommodation looking out over the Severn estuary and the ravenous envy of all those present. If only I hadn't squandered all of the chalet's money on the cheapest of red wines! But a man can dream...
This, on the brighter side, was one of the finest events Barry Hogan and his All Tomorrows Parties team have mustered in their brief but glittering career. On this occasion, the second of the year after the successful Dirty Three-curated event in April, half of the acts for the weekend were chosen by the fans and half by ATP themselves. The results? An exemplary cast of the leading lights of modern alternative music playing over three stages for three incredible days! (Also, inexplicably, there were three sets from Daniel Johnston, but all good things come at a price - even at All Tomorrows Parties.)
The Pavilion stage, a 'proper' stage standing as tall as the Parthenon amongst all the low level glamour of the Butlins experience, opened proceedings on Friday night with playful performance from Yo La Tengo. There is a healthy mix of accomplished virtuously and mischievous humour to their show tonight, assured, as they are, of their place at the top table of modern rock. As they perform a song by song master class, drawing as much from their back catalogue as their present 'I'm Not Afraid of You...' album, they skip around the stage in merry abandon, revelling in the atmosphere at least as much as the audience they inspire.
Their quixotic exuberance, however, is followed by a doleful Mogwai set that is unable to reach the same captivating heights. The problem with the Pavilion stage is the lighting. There is simply too much of it. It never seems to gets dark in there, located as it is in a giant central tent in the foyer of the holiday park, and Mogwai's melancholy abandon is somewhat lost in this cold canteen of an atmosphere. The sound is diluted and spread too thin and this means their set is all the less convincing, thus making it virtually impossible to lose oneself in their swirling grandeur when you open your eyes and are confronted by a family eating at Pizza Hut. I understand the festival has had to expand from its old location, and there are merits to the new site, but there was a lot to be said for Camber Sands as well and perhaps too much of the original flavour has been sacrificed to allow a great number to attend.
No such problems, however, on the Centre Stage. On week nights this is where the Red Coats ply their trade, thrashing out karaoke classics with all the glitter they can muster, but come the weekend they hand over to the kids from the other side of town. The Notwist get things moving tonight and their semi-instrumental Krautrock gradually infuses the room. Their sound is loaded with a repressed rage and a vague threat, but there is also a slow burning formality to their performance, a rigidity which makes it vaguely starched and uneventful. In the end they come over as a mechanical and less passionate Sonic Youth.
The mood is hardly lifted by Sparklehorse who are next on stage. Front man Mark Linkous opens with the line, "We will start with mellow and see what happens", and promptly follows this remark with the mellowest set possible given the bands eclectic back catalogue. This is not to say that nothing happens. Linkous asks a thousand questions with a single strum of the guitar or even the simple tone of his voice and is always greeted with a hundred rapturous answers from his assembled followers. Although modest, their fan base is highly dedicated and the believers are well rewarded tonight by their enigmatic icon as Linkous runs through a selection of cuts from their discography with subtle charm.
Later Youth Movie Soundtracks also played but it soon became apparent that they had been voted onto the bill by some over zealous fans and consequently appeared well out of their depth, requesting the crowd to sing along to build some moment and starting a hopeful hand-clap toward the end of their inexcusable set.
The following day Shellac opened the Pavilion stage with such primitive intensity to which the foundations of the whole site shook. Their set was savagely loud and filled with all the highlights one would expect from this exceptional band. Drummer Todd Trainer, who interestingly plays with the base end of his drum stick for added impact, laid a ferocious beat and was supported by the seismic, precise bass playing of Bob Weston. This dual attack set the stage for the dark comedy and razor thin, but equally dextrous, guitar playing of Steve Albini, and when combined the trio achieved almost unbelievable results; Albini's guitar lines and off-kilter humour cut deep only for Weston and Trainer to rub salt into the wounds. There shows are always filled with unexpected delights and today is no exception. The band cover the Modern Lovers 'Roadrunner', hammer out a three way drum solo, engage the audience in their customary Q&A sessions and most importantly take pot shots at Wilco whenever possible. It's hard to imagine a more unique, engaging, iconoclastic band; superb.
After the savage beating provided by this spectacle it was time for a haircut. Wandering into the musty air of the centre stage fans were greeted by Les Savy Fav front man, Tim Harrington, receiving a quick trim in the middle of the dimly lit stage and engaging the audience in some lively banter. As is habitual for this long established band the show that followed was an equal mix of burlesque entertainment, with Harrington adopting more costumes than Madonna, and cut-throat licks from Seth Jabour on guitar. Occasionally Harrington's antics overshadowed the band, turning from focal point into black hole as he called for the listeners to enter a 'time free zone and release themselves', but there was also a tremendous sense of liberation and fun in their performance.
They were followed by Battles, who took matters into totally the opposite direction. Their new incarnation is a symbiotic mix of electronic and human, creating the mechanical sound robots dance to on heavy trips. They play with a sparse, minimal, mechanical accuracy which is initially captivating, overly complex and intense. However, it is my opinion, that once people get a handle on the bands sound and the hype begins to die down Battles will be left with a greatly reduced die hard following. At present they are a cult band toying with popular acclaim, but this is sure to change with time as their versatile charm is explored and understood.
Over on the smallest stage, Reds, Two Gallants present one of the undoubted highlights of the weekend. Playing to only a handful of fanatical fans Adam Stephens combines his intense, towering voice and droll lyrics with the crash happy drumming of Tyson Vogel to explore the bloody plains of love and loss. Seemingly drawing a racial/political dynamic characteristic of the Deep South of America the duo belies their San Francisco origins but effortlessly canter through a stirring, cerebral collection of tracks. Stephens stares intently at the audience throughout, imploring, threatening everybody to come along on their journey. A real highlight.
Micah P. Hinson got things moving on the third and final day of the festival this year. Apparently arriving from Brighton seconds before taking the Centre Stage Hinson presents his mix creaky, sincere vocals and country licks to warm applause. Hinson's back story of forging counterfeit prescriptions, jail time, bankruptcy and desolation give his songs an added resonance and a sense of redemption after a bad fall. Perfect for the Sunday morning at a festival when every eye is bleary and every memory hazy. Incorporating banjo, guitar and percussion the style is somewhat country blues, as a great deal of the festival unconsciously appeared to be this time round, and occasionally sounded akin to Bill Callaghan, but stood out as a tremendous prospect for the future.
Architecture in Helsinki were next up. Having progressed since their breakthrough album, 'In Case We Die', the band now incorporates a calypso style sound which brings an added dynamic to their already layered style. A revolving cast of characters, centred on Cameron Bird and Isobel Knowles (the latter being the real sunshine in the band) Architecture manage to bring a smile to even the most hung-over of faces. Bird looks stern as he employs his powerful, even classical, voice to provide the focus for the tracks, but the smiling, idyllic support of his ragged ensemble ensure a festive atmosphere, employing trombone, tambourines, bass, guitar and seemingly anything else they can lay their hands on to build a vibrant, attractive sound.
Simultaneously, over on the Reds stage, Daniel Johnston performed his third set of the weekend. Johnston has cornered the market on the difficult, mentally challenged, performer. But as we read that half the British Isles is now on Prozac, and wonder how many of the other artists on stage have fought similar battles, this seems of less and less consequence. And once you shed the layers and layers of back story you are gradually left with a slightly less than average singer songwriter. Now, I know this runs against the grain of popular opinion, but there we have it. The man is no genius.
Band of the Horses on the Centre Stage give a valiant performance but their crowd gradually dwindles as the crowd move back to the Pavilion for the weekend's main event, Modest Mouse. As they wander out onto the stage to elated applause seagulls fly overhead without a clue of what they are about to miss. Having sold 1.5 million copies of their breakthrough album, 'Good News for People Who Like Bad News', and entering the charts at number one with their latest 'We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank', hasn't changed the band in their eyes of their loyal follows. These are still the raffish, casual musicians they have always been. They are adored by the many, but somehow seem a private treasure for everybody present. Tonight they play with two drummers, one of whom appears to be ready for some bee keeping later on and, of course, with Johnny Marr in the heat of the action. They also employ accordion, cello and horns as they run through a superb set. Isaac Brock is in fine form screaming out each lyric with unbridled passion. As they play each song you realise they have been the soundtrack to the very best of times for as long as you can remember and each one is a true classic. 'Tiny Cities Made of Ashes', 'Float On', 'Bukowski', 'Do the Cockroach' are all monumental before the set is closed with a medley of all their albums. The band start off with 'Spitting Venom', the centre piece of their most recent album, before blending in elements of any number of other tracks in a gripping finale. Incredible.
This was by far the biggest All Tomorrows Parties event to date. It had the best line-up of any English or European festival planned for 2007 and maintained a thoroughly good atmosphere throughout the weekend. Bands could be seen and approached as they wandered around over the weekend, including Steve Albini who looked faintly menacing in a blue boiler suit. However, ATP has lost some of the magic it once prided itself upon. The larger venue is not conducive to the intimate nature of some of the performances and queues still present a problem on rare occasions. Time marches on and a reverse seems unlikely as the event continues to grow, but there will be a limit to this growth before the heart is ripped out of this incredible event. Nonetheless the pros heavily outweigh the cons and this remains one of the 'must attend' events of the musical calendar.
Photo credit; Richard Thane and Jean-Marc Luneau
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