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Field Day – Victoria Park, London – 1/8/09 [SPECIAL REPORT PT. 1: TIM DELLOW]

4/5

By: Tim Dellow

Ahhh... Field Day, originally billed as London’s first Psychedelic Festival has, for three years now, always had the most impeccable bill in the history of summer festivals, but somehow been cursed. The first year the sun shone, but a lack of toilets and the sound systems worse than those used by Jamie Oliver on the back of a lorry outside of Sainsbury’s to expound the virtues of sage sausages and onion chutney meant that most punters and bands were mightily pissed (or they would have been, if the queues for the bars weren’t so off-puttingly lengthy).

This improved for the second year, but god chose to punish all indie kids by, quite literally, pissing on their parade, to the extent that most of the crowd left.

And this year? Well, the heavens opened, but spirits remained high despite the odd obligatory sound issue... and the bands excelled themselves....

Gaggle started proceedings and were, I’m pleased to report, utterly fantastic. A twenty-strong all female riot grrrl choir, dressed in robes that looked like MIA and Kate Moss had been wearing them to a paintball championship and singing like Gregorian Castratis. ‘Liar’, an a cappella ode to the fundamental problem of mankind was particularly stand out, although I wondered how many of the bearded Belle and Sebastian fans in the audience deserved such tarnishing.

[WET PAINT]

Wet Paint, the Absentee midlife crisis side project were placed lovingly on the folk stage following the sublime First Aid Kit. Wet Paint, in case you don’t know, are not folk... crashing out their grunge-tastic tunes to a slightly befuddled audience, but tunes such as ‘Save The Whale’ convert the masses and open minds.

[FINAL FANTASY]

Final Fantasy is what I’d call the secret headliner, in that he was the artist that clinched the deal for a huge majority of ticket holders. From his immaculate cult albums such as ‘He Poos Clouds’, to his reputation as a genius string arranger for the likes of Arcade Fire and The Rumble Strips, this Canadian has inspired the kind of devotion amongst a loyal fanbase only reserved for a select few. People travel far and wide to catch a glimpse of his violin looping one man show, and his charisma, eloquence, humour and technical ability generally warrant the effort, if he at times lapses into mild pretension.

[S.C.U.M.]

Speaking of mild pretension, there’s this name to get through - S.C.U.M. However, despite that title the band in question make me reach for my oversized (and some would suggest overused) bag of hyperbole. They are, quite, quite magnificent. Sure, the lead singer is too good looking to even exist, and the drummer could pass for Kim Gordon circa 1987, and if you’re looking for an abundance of radio friendly unit shifters you’ve come to the wrong place, but in terms of general doom laden, strobe seizure inducing good times, you’ll be thrilled. Opening with a wall of loveless noise, some staccato dance moves and keyboardists who hammer their blocks like punishing guitars, the band contort your consciousness into a knot of mossy roots before hacking the moist foliage of your mind apart leaving splinters dancing in the light. And yes, this is a good thing.

[THE TEMPER TRAP]

Moving on to the Temper Trap after that experience is a challenge, as these Rockfeedback favourites are undoubtedly great entertainers with a desire to create a humanistic understanding and unity between audience and band, but simply cannot engage such a crowd in the context of Field Day. Much better to be playing the Radio 1 stage at Reading methinks, although I suggested something similar of White Lies last year.

[THE HORRORS]

The term returning heroes is apt for The Horrors who follow their major label endorsed debut of proto-punk homages with a spectacular XL endorsed collection of shoegaze homages. The fact is, The Horrors have become this generations key gateway band; not dissimilarly to the way the Primal Scream used to tackle an area of music on each record and lovingly shed new light on it, the Horrors are pulling the same trick but with infinitely more style and emotional and cerebral substance. In fact the breadth and knowledge of musical history, and the unexpected combinations in which they take a past generation’s language and use it to express their own ideals is breathtaking. And that’s to say nothing of the exhilaration of their performance. Ignoring the rain, and lashing a sizeable crowd with swathes of noise and colour the band cement adoration in the converted, and turn many a curious head.

Artists in this article: The Temper Trap, Wet Paint, The Horrors, S.C.U.M., First Aid Kit

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