The first thing I notice as I step into the Norwich Arts Centre gangway is a balding man hunched over a laptop, taking up a corner of a large table otherwise crowded with CDs, t-shirts and a handful of vinyls.

The laptop is upon Jeff Lewis and Peter Stampfel’s merch stall, and the man hunched over the laptop is Jeff Lewis. I’m here to see him for the second time in as many years, and the fourth since falling for his endlessly charming It’s the Ones Who’ve Cracked that the Light Shines Through, a record which has been of more use to me over this period than I’m comfortable relaying to people I don’t know (like you).

Everything I’d like to say to Jeff is humbly recounted to my companion. As we make our way to the bar, our paths cross with a withered, lurching old fellow who seems way beyond the evening’s uppermost age-demographic and perhaps a little out of place, even in the context of this high-ceilinged, 13th Century church-cum-music-venue. But again – even though I have a strong inkling at who this fellow is – my lips remain sealed. This is a proper folk show, we’re just too scared to talk to the folk who put it on.

I catch the end of main support Tiger MCs, who sing lovely hushed lullabies which certainly owe a debt to the band Low, but not to such an extent that their catalogue ought to be repossessed. This pleases me and,  it seems, the rest of the audience too. My companion comments that it would be “good music to drink soup to”; I agree, and think this is all that needs to be said for them.

So as we wait for the show to begin, the withered old fellow from before politely trots through the crowd and past a curtain and eventually he emerges onstage and of course this is Peter Stampfel himself, co-founder of Holy Modal Rounders and one-time Fugs member, whose hair is also rather impressive.

He squawks his hellos to the audience and as the set goes on the impression is not – as first it was – that of a lunatic convinced of his own genius but  a genius convinced of his lunacy. Jeff explains mid-way through the set that Peter is an expert on bottle-caps. “He’s got a collection of over 1200 bottle-caps”, he explains, surprising nobody. We watch a slideshow of his bottle-cap collection while the band play a song called ‘Collecting Bottle-Caps is Cool’.

The show was two hours long and it didn’t bore me – I owe it the same favour. It also wouldn’t be proper to spoil Jeff’s new French Revolution comic-strip for you, nor the latest instalment in his ‘History of Communism’ series but, rest assured, they are present and don’t disappoint. A buzzing sound intrudes throughout the set’s quieter moments which Jeff is willing to overlook so we are too. “I’ll just look at the wall”, he says, because when he turns his back to the band and audience it makes the buzzing stop, and again we laugh.

As the set draws to a close with some romping ’60s ‘freak-folk’, I decide it would be a good idea to shout “YEAH” with a throaty conviction (like I’m from Grinderman). So I do and it turns out it is a good idea and it feels good.

Everyone has had a great time – a strange thing to be so sure of considering I spoke to no one but my companion the whole evening. It’s one of those ocassions where you just know.

“I had a dream last night”, recounts Daniel Johnson, with absolute clarity, a few minutes into his performance. “A man was sentenced to death for trying to kill himself. And that man was me”.

As on-stage bon mots go, it’s assuredly more profound and disturbing than a standard “Hello London!” could ever be and yet it quite perfectly sums up the darkness and conflict that lie beneath the surface of Johnston’s art and music.

Tonight’s bill at East London’s magnificent art-deco ballroom The Troxy finds Johnston coupled with Jeffrey Lewis, another luminary of what one might call ‘outsider’ music. While both musicians share dual disciplines (comics and music), Lewis has a softer edge – his music is that of narrative and poetry, not symbols and catharsis.

Jeffrey Lewis

Following a baffling late addition to the bill – Belgium’s Tommigun; think Americana meets 90′s one hit wonders Stiltskin – Lewis shifts from sound check straight into the set proper. It’s an effortlessly cool performance – the boy has this shtick down to a tee through years of shows. With a set that draws largely from 2009′s Em Am I, we’re also treated to one of his infamous comic book narrative songs providing a potted history of Sitting Bull. It’s an educational joy – so much so that I’ve retained almost every detail of the story days later. He ends with a jovial rendition of fan favourite ‘Back When I Was Four’.

There’s fun to be had during Lewis’ set by studying how the surly Troxy security guards wince through his faux-hip hop ode to mosquitos, and then to watch them suffer through all of Daniel Johnston’s set. Johnston’s music ain’t for everyone and I can understand and empathise with the newcomer to his music, a brand of savant lo-fi rock that can be grating at the best of times.

That said, I would call myself a fan in his art and music – I’m touched by the songs, the symbolism and the performance. I’m actually seeing Johnston tonight for the first time and have been told that the good days and bad days he has can dramatically alter his performances. And while it’s slightly disturbing to track his OCD-style selection and arrangement of six identical bottles of water between songs, he performs incredibly well tonight. It’s much better than I’d hoped and although he’s never quite 100 percent there, he is lucid throughout.

Following a short solo set, Johnston is teamed up with The BEAM Orchestra, an eleven person strong concern who provide blustery brass, a flappy jazz drummer and a guy on keys who reminds me of Paul Schaffer from The David Letterman Show. It’s unclear whether this partnership is simply an inspired collaboration or some semblance of an on-stage crutch. For the most part it succeeds in being both, adding both assurance and lustre to Johnston’s sometimes stilted delivery.

There’s a wealth of material showcased from the seminal long player Hi, How Are You, including the sublime ‘Walking The Cow’. Prefacing ‘Love Enchanted’, he pays his respects to the late Mark Linkous, who produced the track’s parent album ‘Fear Yourself’.

I have no doubt that many are here having seen and responded to the outstanding 2007 documentary The Devil and Daniel Johnston – the most effective liner notes for Johnston’s music and art. Without the movie, or at least a skeletal understanding of Johnston’s life, it’s arguable that one’s tolerance for his performance might diminish rapidly. In Johnston’s songs there’s a symbolic and constant struggle close to the surface – good versus evil, the tarnished soul versus a distant pre-lapserian innocence. It’s sometimes difficult to be entertained, especially after grim announcements like “this songs is from our next record which will be called ‘The Death of Satan’…”

Is and Always Was, Johston’s last album from 20009 represents a leap forward in his songwriting – it’s a collection more playful and less unsure than most of his work. There’s a confidence and humour in the likes of ‘Mind Movies’ and ‘Fake Records of Rock n Roll’, both of which are augmented by the Beam collaboration tonight. The knockabout bluesyness of the latter track in particular sees Johnston break into a smile more than once.

The role of the audience in his performance is questionable, however. While we might be here as observers, listeners and appreciators – shouting out endless requests for Johnston to play ‘Casper’ – his engagement with us is limited. He shrinks up there on the stage, a large frame shrouded by water bottles, diet coke cans and a sheet music stand. “Give it more Daniel”, comes a stray comment from somewhere at the back of the auditorium – perhaps meant as encouragement but taken as criticism. “I’m trying”, counters Johnston, a touch saddened by the remark.

The closer tonight is a tender rendition of ‘True Love Will Find You In The End’, a song that encapsulates everything about Johnston’s thirty years of music making – the talent, potential and sadness – into two wrenching minutes of childish lullaby. It’s his most perfect and accomplished song to draw the curtain on a really special and unusual evening.

Prego

Hinterland Festival is not a new concept – a multi-venue festival, where one wristband allows you access to hundreds of bands, art events and other goodies. Camden Crawl has been following this blueprint for over 10 years now. However, the concept seems strange and new to the people of Glasgow who had not experienced something on quite this large a scale before. True, there was Tryptich and now Stag & Dagger has made it’s way to the home of the brave, but Hinterland Festival is big, bold and ambitious, especially in these economically trying times

A few weeks before Hinterland is set to hit Glasgow’s most prestigious, cool and underground venues, there’s news that Homecoming Festival has been cancelled. The industry’s been wobbly for a while and it remains to be seen whether Hinterland will triumph.

Thursday 30^th April 2009
Thursday day, the box office is running slightly behind and Hinterland’s organisers are scurrying around, organising last minute guestlist changes and other bits and pieces. From around 12 noon, press and ticket holders dribble-in and by 1pm, there are huge queues as people hit the ticket exchange in the early afternoon. You can start to feel the buzz now as the kids don their shiny wristbands and head out into Glasgow’s grey urban wilderness.

As the evening skies descend upon Hinterland’s venues, you can almost smell the eager anticipation in the air. The bands and punters alike seem a little tense, this being Hinterland’s first year. Who knows what to expect?

We head down to The Classic Grand. The venue looks a little dilapidated from the outside but it holds two floors of music and dancing till the wee hours. London promoters and PRs, A Badge of Friendship, host downstairs events boasting a alt-rock line-up with Sucioperro, Brigade, Geordi La Force and 85 Bears. Upstairs, This Is Music, showcase sets from Fanfarlo, Meursalt, Orphans & Vandals and Trailer Trash Tracys. So that’ll be alt-rock goodness downstairs with hip ‘n’ trendy indie upstairs – sounds good to me, a bit of variety.

The venue is mostly empty as doors open, both upstairs and down. However, as 85 Bears hit the stage, folk seem to be coming in out of nowhere. 85 Bears mesmerise the crowd with their hypnotically addictive loops and melodies. They’re really revving-up the audience, showing these gig-goers that instrumental music can have a groove and a bit of bite.

Meanwhile, upstairs is a little empty with Trailer Trash Tracys bringing their own brand of “trendy” post-rocking music mastery to the fore. It’s a little like a watered-down My Bloody Valentine, boring in parts, nice in others. There’s not much of a buzz and maybe not the best choice for a first-on slot but they play reasonably well, nothing spectacular.

Geordi la Force

And so downstairs for Geordi La Force; no one really knows what to make of this one-man-one-laptop performance. The mistake that people often make is believing Geordi will either bless us with ambient electro musings or go down the Aphex Twin route. However, he sticks two fingers up at that notion and plays lightning fast riffs over grooving rock melodies. The music is highly technical but really listenable. There are also some really gorgeous introspective moments during the set too, good to see some variety during the set. The visuals that accompany GLF are a must. The “man of mystery” proclaims, two songs in: “The laptop is now going to read your minds…” and so in between each song is a random, yet highly comedic, set of clips form Robbie Williams falling on his arse on stage to Chip N Dale: Rescue Rangers. By the end of his set, Geordi La Force has amassed quite a crowd. Love him or hate him, he’s definitely a boundary pusher and one to watch on the alt-rock circuit.

We unfortunately miss Orphans & Vandals for Geordi La Force. Seemingly, it’s still a little quiet upstairs, which is a shame as Meursalt take the stage. However, people are slowly flooding into the 550 capacity room but the buzz is lacking. Perhaps This Is Music’s bands would have been better in a smaller venue.

Next-up, Brigade, a London band featuring Will Simpson. Funnily enough, Will’s brother, Charlie (Fightstar) is playing a gig down the road at the ABC tonight and his younger brother, Edd (Prego) is due to play Hinterland the next evening – it’s definitely a family affair! It’s a little sparse as Brigade burst onto the stage with their explosive sounds. When you say “rock band”, Brigade really fit the bill. They try and mix up interesting melodies with huge walls of noise. The boys seem to be enjoying the night and eventually, a few hardcore Brigade fans make their way to the front and it’s not long before others follow.

We nip upstairs quickly for Fanfarlo. These Londoners play to quite a good crowd, despite the poorer turnout at the beginning of the evening. The music is gorgeous and it puts a smile on everyone’s faces. We’re also starting to hear reports from friends who’ve been hoofing it around Glasgow, visiting Hinterland’s other venues

Friends tell us that there’s a huge queue outside Nice N Sleazy to see Desalvo and The Fall, naturally, it’s just about at capacity. The Invisible are playing to a huge sweaty audience, Metronomy are becoming one of the highlights of Hinterland’s debut evening of musical delights, Cassidy opened Pivo Pivo to a full-on crowd and played a great set and folk are impressed and mystified by Edie Sedwick.

Orphans & Vandals

And so to the final band of the evening - Sucioperro. Sucioperro’s Dragon also features in Marmaduke Duke, Simon Neil’s (Biffy Clyro) latest musical incarnation. Dragon and The Atmosphere (Simon Biffy) are steadily gaining success with their new musical adventure as Marmaduke Duke, however, Sucioperro are not to be ignored. These boys play great, complicated, heartfelt rock. They are tight, succinct and have attracted a solid crowd tonight singing along with most of the band’s hits.

Sucioperro have rounded-off our evening perfectly. All the bands are milling about afterwards; chatting to each other, fans, press and the general consensus is this has been the perfect Hinterland opener. As A Badge of Friendship hit the decks, the revellers hit the dance floor to Max Tundra, Public Enemy and a little Soundgarden. We can’t wait for Friday!

Friday 1^st May 2009
It was a long night last night but bleary-eyed gig goers are not deterred by this at all. Another busy day at the box office it seems for staff means a night of good vibes ahead.

There’s an air of real excitement tonight as some quality bands finish Hinterland’s first year with a bang – Jeffrey Lewis, Sons & Daughters, Broken Records and This Will Destroy You are all firmly placed on punters’ agendas tonight so it seems.

First-up over to King Tut’s, hosted by A Badge of Friendship again, for Elks. The venue is really dead as the band start their set but they seem to win over the audience as they hit their stride around four songs in. Heads are bobbing, feet are tapping and, looking around the room, it’s evident that folk are really impressed with Elks’ honest, sincere and in-your-face approach to indie-rock that’s missing from the genre.

We quickly run up to The Art School, where Gigwise are hosting the proceedings, as London band, Phantom grace the Art School’s stage. They’ve been described as many things – Tarantino-esque, sweetly sinister, likened to Ennio Morricone – but I’d say they are simply perfection. The first aspect that strikes us is their perfect appearance, retro, glamorously classy but the music is simply divine. Their set is filled with a modern film noire themed quality to the music. Crystal clear guitars and haunting female vocals over firm beats really pound into the very heart of your soul. Beautiful.

We quickly run back to Tut’s where the venue heaves with Jeffrey Lewis fans. As Jeffrey hits the stage, the venue stops letting people in. It’s so great to see Jeffrey Lewis and his band The Junkyard, play a smaller venue like this, which actually suits his music so much better. His honest lyrical style and music bring such a cheer to the venue tonight. I’m almost dancing with happiness; this is definitely my Hinterland highlight so far.

It’s over in almost a flash, I enjoyed the set so much I hardly notice the time and we stay for Dinosaur Pile-Up. Dinosaur Pile-Up are part of the amazing Leeds music seen that has nurtured bands such as Sky Larkin, Wintermute and These Monsters amongst others – an all of whom are playing Hinterland too. These guys make quite a racket. There’s something almost early Melvins about this band and that is never a bad thing. The venue is not as busy as it was for Jeffrey Lewis & the Junkyard but for a band of this nature, there are still a fair few people here, at least 150 – not bad for a Leeds band in Glasgow town.

We Were Promised Jetpacks

Tut’s finishes relatively early so it’s aftershow time! The Fruitmarket is the place to be for all Hinterland partygoers. As we arrive, Alex (Skulljuice) is already deep in tune “spinnage”. Hinterlanders seem to love the odd noises and dance-based beats. Not really our thing, we do a bit of people watching for a while until The Count & Sinden come one. As this DJ duo hit the decks, everyone is really revved up and, of course, Simian Mobile Disco’s DJ set round-off a perfect two days of music, art, clubs and fun!

Having experienced many a festival in my time, Hinterland was very well organised. Despite the price, which may change next year if the promoters take note, many people I talked to had the chance to see at least six, if not seven bands per evening. There were queues at some venues but the waiting times weren’t long and buzz bands like Glasgow’s We Were Promised Jetpacks, were always bound to attract a huge crowd in their hometown.

The idea of smaller bands having their time to shine amongst the big boys is a great idea. It’s also good to see a blend of genres from rock, doom and indie to dance, experimental music, electro and a plethora of DJ sets around the city. Hinterland should definitely be an example to all multi-venue festivals – defiant in the face of “selling out”.

The organisers brought a little cheer to a usually dreary Glasgow and, more importantly, Hinterland brought bands, musicians, labels, A&Rs and thousands of people to a small city in a time of economic crisis. We should all support independent events in the hope of boosting our local economy, discovering a new band or two and bringing a little cheer in what seems like a serious time for all of us. Hinterland is shining the light, let them lead the way!

Photographs courtest of Heidi Kuisma

Aaaaaah our favourite time of the year has loomed yet again. All Tomorrow’s Parties. The one event in the calendar year where geeks mingle with beardies and hipsters hold hands with hippies. There really is no other festival like it, and for those of you who couldn’t make it or even for those out there who want to re-live the shenanigans we like to give you the best coverage that’s humanly possible.

We’ve already published John Brainlove’s diary and even ‘twittered’ our way through last weekends events.. But as ATP round 2 kicks off this afternoon we’re pleased to unveil our bumper review!

Two perspectives. Boy and girl. Adam Elmahdi and Kate Price give a detailed look at last weekends The Fans Strike Back event accompanied with the photographs of Lucy Johnston and Rich Thane.

Enjoy! And if we’ve missed anything out – don’t forget to tell us about it in the comments thread below…

Look out for a full review of The Breeders weekend, plus a massive photo feature of both events. All that’s to come next week…

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Grouper (RT)

Perhaps Grouper wasn’t the best choice to start proceedings. True, Liz Harris had to be on a plane that very evening, but her uncompromisingly sombre ambient noise was too mellow and esoteric for a Friday afternoon slot, as evidenced by the rapid audience shrinkage throughout her set. Casiotone For The Painfully Alone‘s Owen Ashworth fared a little better, although his melancholy lo-fi indietronica was little augmented by a backing band that too often came across as an afterthought. Very heavy on new material, the lack of old favourites like “Jeane, If You’re Ever In Portland” was disappointing although when he hits the spot, he’s as quietly charming as ever.

Casiotone For The Painfully Alone (RT)

Thank the Lord for Jeffrey Lewis to get things back on track. His monotonal drawl may bear little relation to the melody at hand, but that’s all part of his ramshackle charm- more important are his sharp, self-depreciating wit and his hilarious, deftly surreal cartoons. More polished but less engaging were M83, whose hazy synth-pop seemed a little lost in the Butlins food-court. The new raved-up coda to ‘We Own The Sky’ was a nice touch, but their reduced line-up made them more reliant on backing tracks, detaching them further from their audience and leaving even their most euphoric tracks uncharacteristically hollow.

M83 (RT)

But then- BAM! From the darkness of the Centre stage, a hero- nay, messiah- for our times emerges. Long of hair, earnest of speech, he preached a message of deep philosophical import; an ethos for all men to live by- to be happy, to have fun and most of all, to PARTY HARD! Yes, I witnessed the oddly charismatic legend that is Andrew WK, the musical equivalent of a Jason Statham film- objectively awful and yet at the same time, totally awesome. “Bad Brilliance,” a man with a balloon for a head came on stage and repeatedly rapped his own name, some guy from Current 93 made a cameo appearance and despite the set consisting primarily of AWK karaoke-singing over various permutations of ‘Party Hard’, I couldn’t help but be carried away by his sheer enthusiasm. Let’s just hope he never decides to start a cult…

Devo (LJ)

Fittingly, he was followed by fellow madmen Devo who, despite looking like a bunch of crazy bachelor uncles clad in their boilersuits and trademark flowerpot hats were perhaps the tightest band of the whole weekend, their jagged grooves much heavier than the uninitiated would expect. They’ve had 36 years to hone their showmanship and it shows- they know how to work an audience, and what’s more, they still genuinely come across as a band that love what they do. All in all, a fantastic set- a sentiment that, alas, cannot be levied at Pink Mountaintops. As great as their grandiose new album is, the dodgy mix at Reds rendered any subtlety imperceptible and within fifteen minutes the sledgehammer sound had me retreating back to the bar. Ah well- you win some, you lose some.

Retribution Gospel Choir (RT)

Now Saturday, *that* was a textbook example of how to curate a festival. Low side-project Retribution Gospel Choir provided the scintillating rock ‘n roll start Friday so sorely lacked, despite some tedious scrote heckling “throw us your guitar” at Alan Spearhawk. Perennial underachievers live, The Acorn seemed to have finally found their feet- with a new line-up and tighter sound, they do well to counter general hipster indifference (“could I have a little more audience in the monitor?”) with their luscious balladry and Rolf Klausener’s soaring vocals. But even they couldn’t hold a candle to the sublime Grizzly Bear. Fleet Foxes comparisons are to avoid, as both bands furrow similar harmonic veins, but whilst Robin Pecknold’s harmonies are clean, well-scrubbed and immediate, Ed Droste’s have a more wistful, delicate quality that’s ultimately much more gratifying. Balancing the new (and rather superb) Veckatimest material well with old favourites like ‘Knife’ and ‘Lullaby’, their mesmerising hour-long set seems to be over in a blink of an eye, a testament to their understated genius.

The Acorn (LJ)

They even overshadowed Pavillion headliners Beirut, whose strong set nonetheless seemed to be lacking a little something (not least the violinist I used to have a bit of a crush on). Without a doubt, it’s amazing to see how far Zach Condon’s evolved as a live performer over the last couple of years- no longer does he stand there like a deer in the headlights, and his Morrissey-esque croon, whilst still a tad wavery at times has gone from strength to strength. Alas, the same can’t really be said for his song-writing, which peaked at Gulag Orkestar and has rarely achieved the same brilliance since. Whilst the Balkan swing of ‘Elephant Gun’ and the like still have the old magic, the newer tracks blend into one and it’s hard not to crack a smile when someone responds to Zach’s call for requests with, “something that sounds a little different!”

Beirut (RT)

And on the subject of “something a little different”, cult noise-rockers The Jesus Lizard‘s first show in a decade certainly lived up to the fevered expectations surrounding them. As a statement of intent, ripping off your shirt during the intro to the first song and taking a running jump into the audience is pretty hard to beat and David Yow, a balding, slightly sinister middle-aged guy resembling The Yellow Bastard from Sin City had no intention of letting the pace slacken from there on in. On stage, he paced around menacingly, barking ferociously down his mike, but more often than not he could be seen swimming aloft on a sea of hands whilst his ever-proficient band nonchalantly watched on. What a comeback.

Shearwater (RT)

Alas, Sunday ultimately seemed a little anti-climatic in comparison. Shearwater seemed unsuited to Pavillion stage, Jon Meiburg’s hauntingly powerful falsetto and their intricate orchestration dissipating in the sterile surroundings. !!! delivered an energetic, funk-fulled set, but were wasted in their early-evening time slot- they’re a band best experienced in a state of mild-to-excessive inebriation, and even the feckless alcoholics of ATP hadn’t reached that stage so early in the day. The ubiquitous Parts & Labor, spotted anywhere and everywhere throughout the weekend seemed knackered by the time it came to their own performance, which suffered from a chronic lack of volume and almost inaudible synths. When they’re on form, they’re a breathtaking live experience (they nearly eclipsed the mighty Battles when they supported them in ’07) but they seemed to squander this vital opportunity to win over a larger audience with a competent, but rarely genuinely impressive set.

Spiritualized (RT)

Spiritualized‘s performance really seemed to divide people- some found it deathly dull and meandering but their mix of the ear-obliterating fuzz of My Bloody Valentine combined with the gospel-tinged euphoria of Screamadelica-era Primal Scream ticked all my boxes. Static to a fault, they’re not the most visually arresting band and their interaction with the audience is non-existent, but in this case there was no harm in letting the music do all the talking, with an extended “Come Together” being my musical highlight of the whole festival. School of Seven Bells were rockier than expected, tweaking their arrangements for a punchier vibe whilst retaining the dreamy shoegazey production of Alpinisms, but after a while I felt the need for something a little more…energetic, a desire well-served by LA electro-punks The Mae Shi. Previously shambolic to a fault, the mentalist four-piece have finally tightened up enough to deliver a proficient set, but without losing the sense of scrappiness that lies at the heart of their appeal. ‘Run To Your Grave’ may have been the single best singalong of the weekend, and although the new noisecore-orientated material lacks the spark of old, they still know how to rouse a mosh-pit. Indeed, the Mae Shi could be a metaphor for ATP as a whole- schizophrenic, surreal, a little poncey but nevertheless a hell of a lot of fun.
Adam Elmahdi

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Parts & Labor (LJ)

As stragglers flow through the sun-scattered gates of Butlins for this year’s first All Tomorrow’s Parties muso geek-off, the first real drops of sweat hit the Centre Stage floor. HEALTH are a eardrum shattering, frenzied and seductively brash statement of intent, smashing the weekend from a pleasant seaside outing into full pelt beatfest.  Meanwhile, downstairs M83 are one of many bands this weekend to fall victim to the vacuous expanse of the Pavilion Stage, their shimmery effervescent pop floating up towards the rafters and failing to truly engage.

For Devo however, no room is too big and no face too glum. As the sun sets and the Pavilion darkens, their awkward and infectious anthems have even the most severe minds in agreement that jumpsuits, ridiculous masks and funny over-priced red hats will never go out of style. Wheeling out the hits, from ‘Gates of Steel’ to the classic ‘Whip It’, it’s alarming how many songs even the most passive of Devo fans will unwittingly know the words to.

Fuck Buttons (RT)

Jesu calm things down a bit but before long it’s time for Fuck Buttons‘ much anticipated premiere road test of their new material. Despite fear that 2008′s Street Horrsing would be too tough an act to match, all anxiety is soon relinquished by a deliriously absorbing and fever-pitched set. Embodying the spirit of ATP, Fuck Buttons’ magic isn’t brashly flaunted but quietly creeps up and enraptures, making it impossible not to dance – and dance we do.

Errors (LJ)

Saturday’s hangovers are eased mid-afternoon by Nico Muhly, if only because his illustrative soundscapes seem to lull the majority of the audience into a much needed extra half hour snooze. Later on the same stage Young Marble Giants win the award for biggest disappointment of the weekend, delivering the most turgid renditions of Colossal Youth classics, serving only to prove why some bands should never be allowed to reform. Thank the lord (or indeed ATP), then, for the appearance of Grizzly Bear whose intertwining vocals, bracing swathes of sound and journeying melodies set a precedent for the rest of the day. The 1-part stoner-metal 1-part-balls-out-rock’n'roll of Harvey Milk, explosive Balkan wanderings of Beirut and invigorating post-rock disco of Errors make for an unlikely but scrumptious trio, leaving things only to be pissed upon by Marnie Stern‘s tiresome yelping. Still, that’s nothing that a bottle of whisky and a good chalet party can’t remedy, right? Right!

School Of Seven Bells (RT)

Tearing oneself away from the free fairground on Sunday afternoon, Shearwater enchant with their ambient acoustic beauty before the usual witty banter and caustic riff-pounding of Future of the Left makes a stand-out on an otherwise quite soothing stage line-up. However, it’s the Centre Stage that plays hosts the weekend’s true gems. School of Seven Bells serve both musical and physical beauty in matching plentiful bouts with their beat-laden eerie prog-pop, wowing the crowd before gracefully leaving the stage to this weekend’s true heroes.

Marnie Stern (LJ)

It’s been 11 years and David Yow is still… well, David Yow (The Jesus Lizard) and the fact that simply shouting his name out loud feels so great is surely something telling. Clambering around, intrusively rooting out every bit of space onstage and off he physically might, age has not diminished a man who simply represents everything a front man should and could possibly be. Stage diving, crowd surfing, not to mention song upon song ofgob-smacking, eye watering punk rock meat – this is live performance at it’s very best.

Closing what, whilst perhaps not the strongest ever ATP line-up, is certainly one of the most varied and eclectic, Sleep rise to The Jesus Lizard’s bait and hold their own. Earplugs prove pointless as the room trembles and lungs rattle in chests with the sheer velocity and poweremanating from the stage. Sleep are (arguably) THE defining stoner rock band of all time and, holding a drunk and exhausted crowd in their hypnotic grip for over an hour and a half, prove how escapist and cathartic sound can be. The perfect wind-down from yet another successful Minehead adventure. ATP, we salute you.
Kate Price

Before we run our extensive review of last weekends ATP shenanigans, we asked  John Brainlove’s to jot down some thoughts about the weekends happenings.

Look out for a full review plus a bumper photo feature coming very soon!!

All band photographs by Rich Thane.

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So, we’re in Simon’s rickety car, screaming down the motorway, chasing the patch of blue sky that somehow seems to be constantly moving away from us. The moustachioed Major Matty Hall is our car’s co-pilot, having shotgunned the front seat, like a bastard. He is conducting a short seminar on the difference between nuclear and thermonuclear bombs. We are hurtling towards Minehead. The tape player is apparently frozen, so I am piping The Horrors’ new album through my tinny battery powered speakers.

It’s ATP. yayTP. The lineup this weekend was ostensibly selected by ‘The Fans’, or at the least the excitable ones who buy tickets in time to effect the voting.

Christopher Alcxxk of Internet Forever texts me. He has picked up ten of my favourite Portuguese custard tarts for me from the bakery near his house. We have a boot full of booze and breakfasts. I’ll be sleeping on a sofa in someone else’s chalet this weekend – ATP press tickets come sans-accommodation – and I’m gonna be doing some cooking to say thanks.

By the time we get onsite, we’ve already missed Grouper. Apparently she had an early slot because of travel arrangements (before people were even allowed into their chalets) and played a pretty grumpy set to a half empty room.

After some epic trundling around the chalet village with my luggage on a trolley, I make it into Casiotone For The Painfully Alone in time to catch a few highlights from his great new record, Vs. Children. I get a text – our chalet window has been smashed in while the others were at Tesco getting booze, and there’s glass everywhere, including on the sofa I’m sleeping on.

Andy Hung, Fuck Buttons

But before I want to deal with that, Jeffrey Lewis is downstairs plying his ever-engaging anti-folk, then HEALTH, who turn in one of the performances of the weekend: a battering, powerful, committed set. I’m a convert.

I pop back to the chalet to survey the damage. Butlins have cleaned up our chalet and boarded up the window. I sit down for a minute, and end up boozily sleeping through Devo.

Fail.

Back in the festival, everyone is talking about how good they were.

Double Fail.

It’s around this time that I bump into Andy from Fuck Buttons, who says their set is going to be 80% new, with a new beginning. The crowd is heaving. “The Fans” are, tonight, increasingly ‘messy’, dressed up kids staggering around with wide pupils. I’m still pretty straight at this point and feel a little bit old. Unusual for the famously ‘beardy’ ATP festival. Fuck Buttons launch straight into a new song, and don’t let up for an hour – their new set is more about beats and building momentum than their previous layered noise stuff. There’s a rhythmic, wriggling section with Andy squeezing sounds out of a Gameboy, an extended, dancey, layered up new song with softer drum and synth sounds than usual, and a new ending with some searing bassy bursts and powerful drumming from Ben. If there’s any criticism to be made, it’s that some of the transitions are a bit long, and let the build/release energy drop rather than peak, but it’s a good solid performance, and a great introduction to the new songs.

Rolf Klausener, The Acorn

Saturday morning, and I still haven’t got those damn tarts off Chris. We keep missing each other. It’s turning into an ongoing custard tart saga. Me and my chalet-mates play crazy golf. The Cave Singers are audible coming from the main stage. The golf isn’t at all crazy. It’s just small.

The Acorn is my favourite show of the weekend. They’re perfect on the pavillion stage. Their warm sound fills the space, resonant and embracing. The two-drummer rhythm section fill every space with sensitively played taps and beats, carrying along the wonderfully emotional and engaging songs. The hairs on the back of my neck go up, and my body feels suddenly ablaze with adrenalin, and I breathe in the sound. Connection: made.

We bowl. I win. Win!

Beirut play the electronic songs from the new album as traditional arrangements, and they stand up well. “Would you prefer it if I put on a donk on there?” asks Zac. I’m half surprised that my answer is no.

Sarah Pickles of team ATP is having a big wedding party on the Saturday night, so we head over. Marnie Stern is there! I croak out a feeble fanboy “hello Marnie Stern!”, much to the amusement of my so-called friends. The Pontin’s 5-0 descend at 5am and disperse us. Chalet parties till dawn, then the seaside for a blue light sunrise. A man with a musical backpack goes spinning past us, to the strains of “North American Scum”, wheeling down the beach and into the surf, followed by a flock of dancing hippy kids. I fall into bed satisfied that as much fun as humanly possible has been squeezed out of Saturday night at ATP.

By the time I’m capable of functioning again, the Sunday lineup is sparse. The headliners are repeated with both Sleep and The Jesus Lizard playing again, even though neither of them were full to capacity on Saturday. Doubling up the headliners was understandable when there was a queue around the block at the Camber Sands site for someone like Sonic Youth, but here it seems excessive, especially considering the ever-escalating ticket price.

Jason Pierce, Spiritualized

I don’t know if my mood is something to do with it, but Parts & Labour seem really weak. I can’t get into Killing Joke, but then I’ve never liked them much really. Spiritualized play a bludgeoning, unsubtle steamroller set of gospel-tinged stadium rock that sounds more Oasis than Spaceman 3. It’s a big, satisfyingly large and solid sound – but size isn’t everything.

It takes the sheer happiness explosion of The Mae Shi to get the blood pumping again – their odd mixture of jerky guitar lines and screamo, and their chubby-faced emo-tinged manboy 90′s pop-punk sound is accompanied by all kinds of ace theatrical stage antics, including their trademark move – covering the crowd with a giant rainbow-coloured cloth canopy. Fun times.

Custard Tart Saga

Chris finally catches up with me – the box of tarts has congealed into a solid mass of soggy pastry and warm custard. The rest of Sunday night is spent playing poker and making a dent in the last tray of beers. I’m too exhausted for the party/melee/dance-off/bro-down down at the Crazy Horse bar this time around.

The next day, I hang around a bit longer than usual as Simon steels himself for the drive after 72 hours of sleep deprivation. Within hours, the hall is full of extended families, and the shutters have gone up on confectionary stalls, and the bouncy castles have been blown up. The main hall is full of Lego-coloured plastic furniture, and the only soundcheck that’s happening is for bingo. I finally fall into the car, and fall asleep, and wake up back in London a few hours later.

Brainlove Records

What I really want to do in reviewing the new Jeffrey Lewis album is just to transcribe the lyrics to the entire thing. Actually, I have. They’re up on the Jeffrey Lewis message board now. Read them and you should be able to make up your mind.… Okay, okay, I know, making up minds is supposed to be my job. You know Jeffrey Lewis already, right? He’s the adorable-existential-witty-socialist-intenselyvulnerable singer-poet-comicbookartist from the same New York anti-folk scene that gave us The Moldy Peaches and Regina Spektor. Without wanting to make it seem like this review is totally biased from the off, I suggest that if you haven’t heard him yet you buy all his albums, listen to them obsessively until every word is etched on your soul, and then follow him round on every date of his next tour. In an entirely non-creepy way, of course.

Anyway, after the diversion of 2007′s 12 Crass Songs, in which Jeffrey and friends set about transforming a dozen of the 70s anarcho-hardcore band’s screeds into folk-punk sing-songs, this is the first “proper” Jeffrey Lewis album since 2005′s City and Eastern Songs. That album was co-written by Jeffrey’s brother Jack, who lent a number of songs on the album an edgier quality with crashing electric guitars. This album is more ambiguously co-credited “& the Junkyard”, presumably meaning any of Jeffrey’s friends who could and did help out; as such, only one song on the album bears an obvious Jack influence (made more unmistakable by the introduction two minutes in: “This song was written by Jack; it’s called ‘The Upside-Down Cross’”), with the rest tending towards Jeffrey’s (usually) gentler and more contemplative style.

People paying close attention to Jeffrey Lewis’ goings-on will probably recognise at least one or two songs here, as with such a long gap between albums and an often pretty busy live schedule, over half have reared their heads in some form or another over the past few years. Between these and the remaining songs, you have everything you want from a classic Jeffrey Lewis album. There’s musings on the minutiae of life, and there’s bold declarations on the nature of human existence. There’s heartfelt and deeply vulnerable pleas and confessionals, and there’s whimsical nonsense, and then often there’s both at the same time. There’s hilarious, there’s sad, there’s touching, there’s hopeful, there’s heartbreaking and soul-piercing. Actually, there’s a lot of the latter, something deeply personal and timelessly true captured in the smallest observation or an offhand quip.

The album starts on a lively note with ‘Slogans’, combining a celebratory racket with a shockingly earnest and beautiful rallying call for anyone who too easily believes the worst about themselves: “I kept repeating it to myself ’til I convinced myself it was true, and everyone you meet is not better than you”. Then ‘Roll Bus Roll’, a meditative tale of road trips and a contemplation on the need to keep going to make sure everything will be okay: “And then the sun setting on my youth makes that old shadow get taller, oh, but it’s all fine as long as the bus makes the city behind me get smaller and smaller”. The third song, ‘If Life Exists’, extends this theme, grieving and celebrating one’s helplessness at the hands of one’s emotions (“Now I am more happy and I wish I was more happy… But emotions in the brain, they’ll always be the same”) and reaching contentment through a focus on music. ‘Broken Broken Broken Heart’ is just what it says on the tin, in Jeffrey’s own unmistakable style: a plaintive expression of deep sorrow and guilt in cheerful sing-song form (with handclaps, no less).

Fifth song ‘Whistle Past the Graveyard’ moves a little away from the immediately personal and onto grander questions of life and, in particular, death. A fast paced acoustic number, it combines the ridiculous – hurrah, the zombies are back! “I don’t want to hear the corpses talk… Or discuss how much they want to eat my brain”) – with off-the-cuff thoughts on the meaning or lack thereof of life: “Some people say life is empty… Some say I’m wrong and I’ll die and go to hell, but I’d be happy just knowing there was a point so it’s just as well”. Next is the single – there’s a cute video if you care to look on Youtube – ‘To Be Objectified’, a celebration of human insignificance and a return to the theme of finding value in the little things.

The musical centrepiece of the album is the aforementioned ‘The Upside-Down Cross’, a dark, sprawling and insistent eight-minute song in which Jeffrey and Jack share vocals. It provides a change of pace both musically, all brooding metallic guitars, crashing pianos and urgent shouted vocals, and lyrically, a tale of romantic activism around the world and romantic failure in a personal world. Where in ‘The Upside-Down Cross’ the protagonist is the centre of the universe, this is immediately countered by ‘Bugs & Flowers’, another gentle consideration of humanity’s insignificance.

But wait! There is a low point! ‘Good Old Pig, Gone to Avalon’ is a somewhat misjudged piece of nonsense reminiscing about a wonderful, er, pig. That said, it perhaps depends on one’s taste in silliness: I wasn’t complaining when Jeffrey was singing about the zombie apocalypse. But then, that was teaching us a lesson we’ll one day all need to know, whereas most of the people reading this will probably never meet a pig.

‘It’s Not Impossible’ is quiet and sad but subtly optimistic, a tiny revelation that what was once believed impossible isn’t necessarily so, and can be applied to anything you like. Finally, the album is finished with a long and sweet recounting of “Minnie the Moocher”‘s adventures around the galaxy, which can either be taken as a nonsense tale or mined for hidden metaphors as you see fit.

Overall, the album is, of course, beautiful. It maintains the consistency of quality seen on Jeffrey’s last album, whilst containing more heart-piercing moments than any other. By all rights it should secure a special place in anyone’s heart (and in eight months’ time, their end-of-year lists).
86%

Jeffrey Lewis on Myspace

Jeffrey Lewis & Herman Dune | Photographs by Crazybobbles

There’s worse things in the world than spending a sunny afternoon in Islington’s beautiful Union Chapel, especially when you’ve got a succession of supremely talented folkies to serenade you. True, the hard wooden pews may have got a little testing after a while (woe be upon those who forgot to bring a cushion!) but the superb line-up ensured that the show itself remained enchanting for the vast majority of its nine hour duration.

Stars of Sunday League eased us gently into proceedings, with Euan Robinson’s lilting Scottish burr and understated strings giving his acoustic folk some added flavour, before eight-piece We Aeronauts delivered a manic, albeit slight disjointed multi-instrumental assault on the senses. One gets the sense they’re a band bursting at the seams with ideas, but haven’t worked out how best to employ them- they often seemed like they were trying to ram three songs into one. But they certainly showed promise, and the marvelous unplugged performance atop of a pew was one of the day’s most memorable moments. Planet Earth’s humdrum fare sadly failed to leave much of an impact, coming across as a heavily diluted version of Jeff Lewis but Mechanical Bride was something of a revelation- the delightful Lauren Doss is blessed with a voice that can effortlessly silence a room, and the brass players that supported her gave her tunes a faintly Yann Tiersen-ish edge. Peggy Sue and the Pirates were even more impressive, making full use of the sublime acoustics at Union Chapel to submerge the church with their stunning harmonies- for a band I wasn’t expecting much from, they ultimately proved to be the best act of the first half.

After a well-needed break to stretch ones legs and regain some feeling in one‘s buttocks, Owl Parliament felt ready to unleash the big hitters. Johnny Flynn quietly impressed me with his unostentatious folk; one-man acoustic troubadours rarely impress me but his sheer talent and moments of restrained passion won me over – which is more than I can say for Laura Marling. Her music, whilst elegantly well crafted has never really clicked with me, her voice is nothing to write home about and as a performer she comes across as curiously aloof. There’s no doubt that she’s talented, but there’s just something about her that leaves me cold. Thankfully, the same can’t be said of singer-songwriter/cartoonist/all round top bloke Jeffrey Lewis, who provided the evening’s most impressive performance. For those who haven’t had the opportunity to see his live shows, Jeff intersperses his set with ‘films,’ more accurately described as flipcharts of cartoons expertly doodled by the man himself, to which live narration and musical backing is added. Tonight’s pick was “The History of Communism: Part 5,” a rhyming documentary of sorts about North Korea which was both entertaining and educational- how many bands can you say that about? His musical pursuits may not be quite as creative, but his anti-folk has an endearing lo-fi charm that’s well served by the rock stylings of his backing band and the Crass covers never fail to impress. And although Herman Dune could only seem to be an anti-climax in comparison (David Herman-Dune‘s wheedling voice and occasional lyrical clumsiness can be off-putting), their upbeat melodies and endearingly eccentric mannerisms ensured a fittingly cheery end to the evening. Truly this was that rarest of things- a parliament that lives up to its promise.

Peggy Sue and The Pirates

Johnny Flynn

Laura Marling

Jeffrey Lewis

Photography by Simon Godley

Tom Waits @ Le Grand Rex, Paris, July 25
The smoke of 1,000 Gauloises curled round Le Grand Rex’s art-deco facade in anticipation of Tom Waits, who was in Paris for two nights on his Glitter & Doom tour. Waits prowled the specially constructed circular stage like a demented carnie, injecting all of his 58 years of experience into a remarkable performance that swung from gypsy-folk to vaudeville to gentle jazz crooning. Sawdust billowed around him as he stomped his way across a circus ring of his own making. Skipping effortlessly through an extensive back catalog, Waits prompted the crowd to croon along with “Innocent When You Dream” before morphing into a human mirrorball, simply by swapping a hat, for “Eyeball Kid”. When a shower of glitter fell around spotlit Waits at the climax of “Let It Rain”, it felt as though the audience had been transported into the ringmaster’s own peculiar, magical universe. An outstanding showman giving his all in a beautiful venue on a warm summer’s evening – I’m pretty sure it doesn’t get better than that.—Ro Cemm

Wave Pictures @ the Borderline, London, July 30
The most striking thing about seeing the Wave Pictures live is just how amazing – as in, virtuoso level – a guitarist David Tattersall is. On record it’s easy to be sidetracked by the sharp, funny lyrics and almost overlook the musicianship, but live, it practically smacks you around the head. Nearly every song in their set had a brilliant guitar solo – always a genuine, worthwhile musical addition, never an excuse for a show-offy noodle. David was so engrossed in a particularly captivating break during “Tiny Craters in the Sand” that he didn’t notice when his whammy bar fell off, and looked most surprised when it was handed back to him afterwards. Part of the delight of the Wave Pictures is that they are such unassuming individuals, yet produce such a lyrically and musically brilliant performance. They are a band that can renew your waning faith in live music and leave you dashing for the last train home with a huge, foolish grin on your face.—Jude Clarke

Björk @ Hammersmith Apollo, London, April 14
The problem with being such a prolific attender of gigs is the inevitability that they stop being as special as they used to be. So it is pretty unprecedented for me to stagger out of a venue open-mouthed with incommunicable wonder, but that is exactly what I did on this unforgettable April night. Clad in a headdress made of multicoloured pom-poms, the irrepressible Icelandic pixie queen skipped onto stage to the tribal percussion of “Earth Intruders”. It was a spellbinding introduction to a show that, flat Antony Hegarty duet apart, was never less than enchanting. It’s hard to pick highlights from a night comprised almost entirely of them, although Toumani Diabaté’s stunning kobe on “Hope”, a bewitching rendition of “Hunter” and a glorious “Who Is It” all deserve special mentions, as does Björk’s fantastic 10-piece all-female brass section The Wonderbrass. But it was the unabashed techno-singalong of “Hyperballad” and the sheer jaw-dropping spectacle of “Declare Independence” that made the night transcendental, the latter’s mix of earth-sundering bass, silver confetti and arching lasers one of the finest closing numbers I’ve ever seen. Björk, I know you’re old enough to be my mother, but will you marry me?—Adam Elmahdi

Photography by Fleur Neale

Neil Young @ Hammersmith Apollo, London, March 8
In hindsight, I can’t believe I debated whether to go or not. Sure, the ticket prices were a bit steep, but you got some history for your cash. On the night, the set was split in half: first acoustic, then electric. I never thought I’d prefer the acoustic set, but to hear “A Man Needs a Maid”, “Harvest Moon” and “Ambulance Blues” so crystal-clear and in the flesh surpassed all my expectations. There were too many spine-tingling moments to distill into one paragraph. “Mr. Soul” sounded as fresh as it must have 30 years ago – God only knows what it was like then, because even now it sounds like a tear in the face of music. That was before I was floored by “Down by the River”: a wall of guitars cut through the years, trashing my sense of awareness and sucking me inside the sprawling anthem. It was only then that I truly realised I was in the presence of a living legend.—Rich Hughes

Photography by David Emery

Bon Iver @ St Giles Church, London, June 4
By June, Justin Vernon had watched the Bon Iver phenomenon flicker into being, ignite and roar through the music world. Still, through months of media and audience hysteria, he remained steadfastly modest. For a man concerned with all that is solid and enduring, a church whose history stretches back 900 years was a fitting venue for the last performance of his first UK tour. Three hundred lucky souls squeezed into pews and aisles, crammed into corners and dangled off balconies. Three hundred rocked back and forth, shivered and clasped hands with their neighbours to the strains of “Skinny Love” and “Flume” as Vernon’s crystal-clear vocals reverberated with an otherworldly significance; 300 filed out shiny-eyed and with a catch in their throats. Early Bon Iver gigs had left me with the thrill of discovery and later ones with the warm satisfaction that comes from a display of brilliant craft and flawless delivery, but that night has earnt an eerie, mythological place in musical memory, as though marking the time that Vernon crested an unfeasibly high peak and looked down on the world below with serenity and joy.—Emily Moore

Photography by Mike King

Photography by Chris Boland

Leonard Cohen @ Glastonbury Pyramid Stage, June 29
Forced out of retirement because of an evil manager who reportedly embezzled him out of $5 million, Leonard Cohen was back, literally performing for his livelihood. Most acts would struggle on the 80,000-capacity Pyramid stage, but Leonard Cohen immediately transformed the rubbish-soaked field into an intimate coffee house, performing one classic after another in his trademark whispered, weighty way. Each song was triumphant, from a singalong-to-the-heavens “Hallelujah” to a gorgeous, haunting “Suzanne”. Cohen lowered his cap and bowed to the audience after each song in gratitude. It is difficult to describe precisely how, but it transformed me. I have never seen a gig like it and quite possibly never will again. Kudos to you, Leonard.—Shain Shapiro

Photography by Valerio Berdini - another date, same tour

Elbow @ De Montfort Hall, Leicester, October 16
“We haven’t played a gig this good in years,” Guy Garvey said as Elbow left the stage, and you could well believe him. That night, every song was played to its utmost strengths – the brass stabs at the beginning of “Starlings” were never more fanfare-worthy, “Mirrorball” never so cascadingly lovely, “Newborn” never so heart-wrenching and “Grounds For Divorce” never so vituperative. Everyone in the room sang along, attempting to restrain themselves from punching the air as Garvey cajoled them and himself into greater vocal heights. Some artists struggle with the leap from small venues to huge halls, but Garvey thrived on it: swapping banter with the crowd; leaning forward on the mic stand as if to make a physical, literal connection with the audience; projecting that voice of bruised experience and heart right around cavernous De Montfort Hall. On their post-Mercury Prize victory lap, Elbow had nothing to prove and they played as though they were on top of the world. (Which, to be fair, they were.) The crowd knew it, too, singing back on the mini-anthems, deathly quiet on the wracked ballads. Guy passed on a marriage proposal before “Mirrorball” and, on receiving the good news afterwards, declared, “Thank fuck for that!” He bid the happy couple, “Congratulations – now here’s a song about gut-wrenching heartbreak” before launching into “The Stops”. Like pre-encore closer “One Day Like This”, whose televisual ubiquity has not dented its emotional heft one bit, the whole set was at once gorgeous and triumphant.—Simon Tyers

And the rest…

2. Radiohead @ Roskilde Festival, nr Copenhagen, July 3
3. Tindersticks @ End of the Road Festival, September 14
4. The Acorn @ End of the Road Festival, September 13
5. Neil Young @ Roskilde Festival, nr Copenhagen, July 5
RC

2. Envy @ EITS ATP, Minehead, May 18
3. Betty and the Werewolves & The Research @ the Portland Arms, Cambridge, November 5
4. Fleet Foxes & J Tillman @ the Junction, Cambridge, November 11
5. Holy Fuck @ 100 Club, London, April 8
6. Melt-Banana @ Soul Tree, Cambridge, June 24
7. Port O’Brien @ Concrete + Glass Festival, 93 Feet East, London, October 3
8. The Resistance, Holy Roller & Fuck Dress @ the Portland Arms, Cambridge, October 11
9. The Death Set @ Reading Festival, August 23
10. Volcano! @ the Portland Arms, Cambridge, November 16
JC

2. Sigur Rós @ Latitude Festival, July 19
3. Sunset Rubdown @ Luminaire, London, May 22
4. Joanna Newsom @ Latitude Festival, July 20
5. Wolf Parade @ Electric Ballroom, London, December 1
6. My Bloody Valentine @ Roundhouse, London, June 20
7. The National @ Olympia, Dublin, May 15
8. Of Montreal @ Koko, London, October 16
9. Wildbirds and Peacedrums @ Luminaire, London, June 5
10. I’m From Barcelona @ Scala, London, November 25
AE

2. Jens Lekman @ EITS ATP, Minehead, May 17
3. Fleet Foxes @ the Junction, Cambridge, November 11
4. Band of Horses @ Shepherds Bush Empire, London, July 8
5. Rolo Tomassi @ Portland Arms, Cambridge, September 29
6. Elbow @ Corn Exchange, Cambridge, October 6
7. Johnny Foreigner @ Barfly, Cambridge, May 6
8. James Blackshaw @ CB2, Cambridge March 29
9. Fuck Buttons @ Barfly, Cambridge, February 7
10. Battles @ EITS ATP, Minehead, May 17
RH

2. Young Marble Giants @ Primavera Festival, Barcelona, May 28
3. My Bloody Valentine @ the Roundhouse, London, June 23
4. Shearwater @ St Giles Church, London, November 22
5. Edwyn Collins & Roddy Frame @ the 12 Bar, London, July 29
6. The War on Drugs & Bowerbirds @ the Windmill, London, August 20
7. HEALTH & Skeletons @ Luminaire, London, May 1
8. David Thomas Broughton @ Red Eyed & Blue, the Wilmington Arms, London, May 13
9. Wave Pictures @ the Enterprise, London, March 11
10. Fanfarlo @ the Nash Room, ICA, London, April 25
EM

2. The Gaslight Anthem @ LA2, London, December 5
3. Sigur Rós @ Westminster Central Halls, London, June 24
4. Bon Iver @ Shepherd’s Bush Empire, London, September 11
5. Shearwater @ Bush Hall, London, September 17
6. Frightened Rabbit @ Music Hall of Williamsburg, New York, October 17
7. The Revival Tour @ Blender Theater, New York, October 13
8. Hauschka @ King’s Place, London, November 11
9. Billy Bragg @ the Roundhouse, London, March 4
10. The Hives @ Brixton Academy, London, April 18
MP

2. The Burning Hell @ Cafe Zapata, Berlin, October 15
3. Jeffrey Lewis & Los Campesinos! @ Lee’s Palace, Toronto, May 29
4. Stevie Wonder @ O2 Arena, London, September 11
5. Slayer & Mastodon @ Hammersmith Apollo, London, October 30
SS

2. Johnny Foreigner & Dananananaykroyd @ the Charlotte, Leicester, October 1
3. Bon Iver @ End of the Road Festival, September 13
4. Dirty Three @ End of the Road Festival, September 12
5. Okkervil River @ Truck Festival, July 19
6. Of Montreal @ Summer Sundae Festival, August 10
7. The Acorn @ End of the Road Festival, September 13
8. Future Of The Left @ This Ain’t No Picnic weekender, KCLSU, London, September 27
9. The Mae Shi @ Summer Sundae Festival, August 8
10. Ballboy @ Indietracks Festival, July 27
ST