The Great Escape - Brighton - 17-19/5/07
4/5
May in Brighton has seen the return of the luminous Great Escape Festival, and although other interesting gigs attempted to characterise the month (The Kooks / Cat the Dog / Matt English / I-Koma benefit for Madeline McCann gig for example), nothing compared with that most innovative and fresh of festivals that wiped my mind clear of any other nonsense.
Set bang in the heart of this exquisite sea-side town, renown for its nonchalant 'anything goes, even pink dreads and multi-colour woolly hoodies in the summer' attitude and its inspiring genre-merging architecture, as well as a 'drink/drugs/sex/rock/roll/living for the weekend/every day is a Saturday' lifestyle, it's no wonder that just weeks after The Great Escape I am in hospital (again) having been diagnosed with 'kidney problems'. (Donations of either money or kidneys to this worthy course are welcome!). So, I have to ponder... was it worth it? Let me see...
(Above: Foals play on the pier)
17/5/07 -
Thursday, being the first day of the festival, saw myself and my companions begin drinking smugly at 11am (aren't we big, aren't we clever). I showed my peers, who were foreign to this paradise town in which I live, the sites and our lovely lanes - and then we were straight to the beach, where every other wristband-baring festival attendee was also hanging out, getting similarly squiffy outside summer bars, with Fortune of War and Gemini proving early favourites.
The evening quickly was upon us though, and in it we saw an enlightening blend of British indie, indie-electro and nu-rave (in so far as the thing exists). Some highlights of the day? Here they are, for the benefit of those with an average attention span the same length as your standard MTV video, summed up in a few sentences:
Four Day Hombre proved that sophisticated, vocally uplifting, emotional and articulately executed alternative music with easy melodies and driving rhythms can exist after all, in a set which built throughout and stood as a touching performance, albeit one slightly deprived of energy.
We aren't sure quite what genre to put Hot Club De Paris in, but we know we like it, as did everyone else - this makes you want to dance and smile to the sound of attractive northern lads with a bounce worthy of a trampoline created by groovy bass work and a permissively frank way with words.
The catchy, emphatic percussion of CSS is at the heart of their innovative dance music with a fresh indie twist, one full of colour, dynamic bass lines and a sexy, sensual vocal that licked the jumping fluorescent crowd into submission.
18/5/07 -
After a full night of after parties, mixing with bands we had seen through beer goggles and then trawling through a town dusted with fellow drunkards to a party at an unnameable celebrity's flat, we were a tougher crowd come Friday. Luckily, with the help of the festival's text alert service we were able to plan our second consecutive night of festivities over the course of the day quite carefully.
(Above - Friendly Fires play at Concorde 2)
Friendly Fires delivered happy, youthful, energetic indie-based electro to a room full of good-looking metrosexual boys in bright colours and girls with braids. Elsewhere, iLIKETRAINS gave us brooding, dark and satirical ambient rock, beautifully articulate and full of despair with alarming use of lighting and fantastically creative projections. T'were epic, if a tad self indulgent. We only wish we could remember more about the carming acoustic rock and morally enriching triumph that was Willy Mason - he looked kinda cute.
What follows is fellow scribe DAN MONSELL's account of his Friday trawl around Brighton, complete with a report on the Rockfeedback/Transgressive co-promoted night at The Concorde 2).
Proceedings are opened with the last couple of tracks from French-Canadian 60s pop and roll outfit Les Breastfeeders. Considering that I've been waiting an age for them to grace these shores since I was absolutely blown away by the catchiest, most fun songs in New York a year ago (they sing in French too you know - swoon), I'm a bit gutted to miss most of their set. Yet the short time spent in their company was amongst the best we could have hoped for.
We move quickly on to Artrocker's venue to find that Danananacrkyod have well and truly pulled out, so instead grab some drinks and get thoroughly bored by the sub-standard sounds of The Ripps, plying a tired and unexciting sound to a venue full of pretty people who aren't really watching the band at all.
Luckily we find solace at the Fly's venue with Finland's own Jakobinarina, first discovered at our very own Basement Club. Vocalist Gunnar Rognarasson puts on a display nothing short of insane, as usual, spending close to the entirety of the set in amongst the crowd prancing about. While he preaches words that are smile from ear-to-ear funny, his band of 17 year old Scandinavian kids with clothes that are far too cool for their age bang out the most infectious sped up euro-trance guitar-pop songs you're probably ever bound to hear of their kind; It's a niche market. Gunnar is the most self-confident and hilarious rock and roll front man from Northern Europe since Howling Pele came to shake our bones with the Hives. We want to join him by going nuts as he goes berserk in the crowd, but us English are far too reserved for such behaviour, especially so early in the night....
Art Brut are up next in the ludicrously massive Corn Exchange. I'm not quite sure why such an idea keeps hitting me, but for some reason Eddie Argos comes across like British indie rock's answer to Woody Allen tonight, as he has on other evenings. His odd anxieties, quirks and quips seem to fit this mould absolutely perfectly. At the same time it's clear his heavier build is far from 'ol Woody's meagre frame, and at times his band rock so hard it almost hurts. As is standard behaviour at an Art Brut show, we go mental and laugh our faces off the whole way through.
From here on in we hit the eagerly anticipated Transgressive / Rockfeedback room after a slightly snoozy wander along the sea front to the Concorde 2. There are some mighty colossal queues outside the venue, a testament to the greatness of the bands about to play, but also to the massive problems with this festival. Bottom line - Barfly: sell fewer tickets or find a way to make it so that people can actually get into venues to see the bands they want to see. Many of us spent the whole festival queuing...
(Above: The Rakes close the first part of the evening at Concorde 2)
In terms of the music at the Concorde, there's a worrying start as due to unavoidable and infuriating technical problems after The Rakes' set earlier in the evening, Mechanical Bride goes on an hour late to a venue full of what were by now violently pissed up revellers. Tragically, Brighton's very own Bride's inarguably beautiful songs get lost in a sea of technical mess as an impatient crowd provides her with no time to sort herself out. Boo yourselves, fools.
(Above: Mechanical Bride at the Rockfeedback / Transgressive showcase)
It's pretty painful to watch. Battle take the night in the right direction however with a surprisingly massive-sounding set. It's an earnest, honest and strikingly heartfelt performance. We believe.
But it's Foals, whose performance at a secret gig out on the pier earlier in the day welcomed some of the rockfeedback team to the seaside in perfect fashion, who blow everyone out of the water in spectacular style. It all kicks off in the Concorde as everyone has their expectations not only met but far exceeded from the band you'll find on everyone's lips. We zone into their superbly fresh sounding math-pop and move around frantically in a trance like state as Foals straight up win Friday's Great Escape hands down.
(Above: Battle at the Rockfeedback / Transgressive showcase)
19/5/07 -
(...back to Jo-Rosie)
Another thing I love about The Great Escape is that it ends on a Saturday. Not only does this relinquish Sunday for sleeping, but it also ensures the last night is spectacular and eventful and not full of early leavers.
Learning our lesson the previous nights about how the bright pink wrist bands do not exclude you from queues (no matter what / who you may drunkenly offer to doormen), we decided to stick to just the one venue (partly to maximise our drinking time, partly to minimise our time queuing in the cold...). The little blue building that is The Pressure Point stands tall from the outside, yet is set out like an igloo inside with a sizable stage and a crowd atmosphere which was second to none. It was there we saw these things happening:
Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip displayed some hilarious and imaginative use of props (boards with controversial signs, mainly), as an intense crowd bounced to their humble, but amazingly culturally astute lyrical content, emanating from behind the most fabulous of beards...
(Above: Foals at the Rockfeedback / Transgressive showcase)
Mental and decidedly sweaty nu-rave electro Brazilians Bonde Do Role remixed classics with a crazy metal blare and raunchy gender-defying vocal, worth watching for the amusing stunt involving Pedro, an audience member and a few plastic balls, as well as the singers amazing leggings and her constantly visible gusset...
Mr Hudson and the Library's is classic sing-a-long nostalgic pop, at times slightly soulless with not enough musical depth, though 'Too Late Too Late' went down notably well with the perpetually sloshed crowd. Handsome Hudson himself did at least read out the note we left for him on stage, though to understand the comic genius of it, you'd have to have been there.
We then went to The Arc (a club on the sea-front that on Saturday nights occasionally and admirably will venture away from the likes of The Kooks and The Futureheads and has been known to actually play Tapes n Tapes as well as Band of Horses) to smooth off our night, though memories of it are hazy. I'll ask my left kidney, once it's removed, if it remembers anything.
All photography copyright Alex Pyper
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