Another Form of Relief

This past weekend was my first experience of London Popfest, an annual event that aims to bridge the gap between Indietracks’ for indiepop kids. Taking place over four days in deepest London, the world’s finest indiepop bands descend on tiny venues to “indiepop ’til we drop“. For various reasons I only made it to the Friday and Saturday days of the weekend, but the weekend still managed to be the highlight of the year so far.

Friday // Buffalo Bar

What a tiny, tiny venue. Little more than a square room with a stage on one wall and a bar on another, it’s amazing just how packed the place quickly became. I’ve been into some cramped venues before, but the torturous “trek to the toilet” that I endured here may have been the worst. Still, any negative feeling there was quickly countered by the music itself. The Sunny Street provided some decent melancholy pop to start. I wish I could say more about it but the sound was a bit crappy where I standing. Moving to a new spot for Horowitz massively turned me around on them. I’d been familiar with them for years but they’ve never done much for me. Their set was tight and punchy though, and I’ll definitely be exploring their album(s?) some more. Up next, The Garlands brought some Swedish flavour to the festival, including somehow even getting away with a Wham! cover. Headliners The Just Joans opened with their excellent Hey Boy…You’re Oh So Sensitive!, which was useful as it’s the only song theirs I really like and allowed me to duck out a bit before the end before the heat and volume in the Buffalo Bar finally destroyed my head completely.

Saturday // 100 Club

I hate going to the 100 Club. Not because I have anything against the venue itself. Indeed, it’s actually a nicely laid out venue, everything being sideways with a stage in the middle meaning everyone gets a decent view. My problem with the 100 Club is it’s location. Being right in the centre of Oxford Street, there is literally nowhere to park anywhere near it (short of paying something ludicrous per hour in an underground horror movie set), particularly for an all-dayer. It’s fine for Londoners and their public transport and all, trying to get back to Kent at god knows when from central London without a car is an absolute bastard. That aside though, I did enjoy the fact that from Oxford Street itself, the most recognisable shopping street in the country for locals and tourists alike, you could hear indiepop blasting out of the doors for much of Saturday. Probably didn’t win any new fans, but the thought of random Japanese tourists being assaulted by the sounds of Allo, Darlin’ as they walked past amused me no end.

Walked into the place during Plouf!, had a quick drink and walked back out again in search of Forbidden Planet round the corner instead. Nothing against Plouf! in particular, but they just aren’t really my cup of tea. Arrived back somewhere toward the end of Red Shoe Diaries who seemed pretty good and made me regret disappearing for so long. Oh well.

After that began the perfect triple bill of Soda Fountain Rag, Standard Fare and Allo, Darlin’. Soda Fountain Rag was perhaps the most surprising of the three. I loved (and posted about) her brilliant Don’t Kill The Clowns back in 2008, but when I listened to some more songs, they didn’t seem to match up. Live though, it’s a different matter altogether, the end result being one of the most consistent sets of the weekend. Standard Fare seem to be on a meteoric indiepop rise at the moment. Seemingly coming out of nowhere over the past year, they managed to absolutely own their set, and seeing them headline such an event by next is by no means out of the question. Allo, Darlin’ are one of my favourite bands from the past year, and seeing them live was joyful. I’m convinced that they can’t make a song that isn’t catchy as hell, and rousing renditions of the superb Henry Rollins Don’t Dance and The Polaroid Song did nothing to argue with that view. Newer songs like Dreaming and Kiss Your Lips fit just as well, the latter even managing to sample Weezer’s El Scorcho, something that will instantly endear it to popkids the world over.

Not much was going to compete with that combination so it was time for a nice walk up and down Oxford Street after that, leading to an indulging in Burger King and trying to work out where the hell the light shining on Centre Point was coming from. Never did figure that one out. Wandered back into the 100 Club to see most of Shrag’s set, which was a pleasant surprise. I’ve never been much of a fan of their recorded output, but their live set was pretty damn fun. Following them were the wonderful Ballboy, taking their rightful place as headliners. Opening with the mighty Avant Garde Music, they ran through
a mixture of old classics and newer material. Sadly I missed the last bit of their set due to requiring a tube back to the car parked across the city. From the half I did see though, they were certainly one of the most professional bands of the festival. And I’m not just saying that because Gordon McIntyre told me to.

Please find below a lovely gallery of photos that are in black and white to look arty, and certainly not because I suck at taking decent pictures in low light.

Assuming that bands progress in the same way people do, the last time I saw The Young Republic, they were going through their awkward teenage years. Having just split from a bunch of their original members, the band were starting to find a new sound, one rather more rooted in Americana as opposed to the upbeat folk pop of the early years. They were good and put on a decent show, but there was still a sense that the band didn’t really have a clear direction.

In the little over a year in between, so much has changed. The Young Republic that takes the stage in Cargo on a Monday night aren’t here to play songs. They are here to rock. The fact the venue isn’t exactly full isn’t going to stop the crowd going right along with them, and the band are happy to reward their enthusiasm. Launching into a set made up mostly from their latest album Balletesque, we get a solid hour of rock and roll that only scratches the surface of their potential.

Much of this confidence comes through front man Julian Saporiti. He’s no longer the slightly awkward (but hugely talented) personality on stage he appeared to be a year ago. A new charisma seems to have appeared about him as he throws himself completely into every song as if his life depended on it. To his right, violinist Kristin Weber is a subtler presence, adding layering to each song. That is until The Alchemist, with it’s full-on violin solo halfway through. The rest of the band utterly still and silent throughout, her violin alone commanding the entire room. Not something you see at gigs everyday.

Then of course there’s the occasional treat thrown in for the older fans. “This is the point where we play a couple of old ones” notes Saporiti, before we realise these aren’t the old songs at all. Sure, at their core they are still Excuses To See You and the wonderful Girl From The Northern States, but they’ve been given the same overhaul the band had. What was folk pop is now Americana, and it’s still just as good.

After an hour, the band say goodnight and head off the stage. The crowd aren’t letting them off so easily though, and the band return for an encore seemingly at a loss for what to play seemingly having used everything in the main set. Shouts for their cover of Dylan’s Isis are shot down by Saporiti pointing out their lack of harmonicas. Eventually they settle on a couple of Beatles covers and most surprisingly of all, the Ghostbusters theme song. Complete with dance moves. It’s a hell of a way to end a gig, but by this point the audience would have let them get away with anything.

Sunday didn’t get off to the greatest of starts. Waking up rather early after a terrible night’s sleep at the Travel Inn, followed by Tesco breakfast (surprisingly edible), and then arriving on the site before anyone else at all wasn’t the best feeling in the world. Still, after not getting to any on the Saturday, I was determined to catch at least one on-train performance, namely that of The Manhattan Love Suicides. Now, apparently they’d broken up shortly before the festival, but having no idea, went and sat and waited for them in a train carriage for twenty minutes. When nothing had happened, we jumped off the train at Swanwick once more. Of course, this is apparently when some of the band got on the train and played some songs. Oh well, you can’t win them all.

Or rather, you can. Because getting off the train then meant it was possible to pop into the train shed and catch Zipper’s set. Spanish indiepop doesn’t come much better than this, and their set was all the more joyful from just how happy the band seemed to be to be there. Between each song they didn’t seem to quite believe that they were playing in front of a large crowd at a railway yard in Derbyshire. Although I suppose in those terms not that many people would. Still, they were so good that I made sure to pick up a copy of their album which was a mere £5 on the merch stall.

A trip back to the main stage for The School turned out to be a fine set. Although I like The School, it tends to be in a fairly casual sense. I only know a handful of songs, but by the end of their set, I was looking forward to their upcoming album as eagerly as anyone else in the crowd. Every song hit just the right note, the entire band sounding in sync, which is no mean feat given the number of members and variety of instruments on display. This was an assured performance for a band that is certainly going to go on to better things.

Back to the shed for The Smittens, another band that I don’t know as well as I should. Not that it mattered with their set though. So ingrained into the Indietracks tradition are the band that they could have recited a phone directory and still drawn everyone in. Thankfully they didn’t do that, but instead flew threw a set of pop gems, winning over everyone in the process. By the end of the set, a certain band may well have been declaring them to be “top of the pops”.

Now, something not entirely unexpected happened during The Smittens’ set. That something being that it started to rain. Showers had been predicted for the Sunday, so no one could really complain. Other than the fact that once it started about 3pm, it didn’t bloody stop. The rest of the festival was turned into an indoor event for those less hardy souls, or something unpleasantly muddy for those willing to brave it.

And brave it we did, for Lucky Soul were playing on the main stage. The last time I saw Lucky Soul was at a lovely gig at the Luminaire two and a half years ago, and boy have they come on as a band in that time. A hearty mix of old and new songs make up their set, which still pulls considerable numbers given the unpleasant conditions. A few years back I would have been worried that a band like Lucky Soul would quite a limited one-trick pony, but the band seem happy to evolve instead of limiting themselves to a purely 60s sound. As it sounds, their upcoming album could finally be the one that pushes them over the top.

A little bit later and it’s time for Pocketbooks, who are the band on the bill that most define the festival as a whole. They run through most of the songs from the recently released Flight Paths album, with Falling Leaves, Fleeting Moments and the superb Cross the Line being the obvious highlights. By the end of the set, every attendee of the festival seemed to be in the shed. A cynic could argue that this was related to the heavy rain outside. A more accurate version however would be that Pocketbooks are just that damn good.

After Pocketbooks came Disasteradio, who offered the first truly “what the fuck?” performance of the day. Bizarre electronic beats performed by a man seemingly having a seizure on stage, who then proceeds to try and eat his microphone. I’m sure there is an audience for this, but I suspect it wasn’t here. Following that was Help Stamp Out Loneliness, who were fine for what they were, but didn’t do very much for me.

Finally, it was time for the mighty Art Brut, a band whom I love dearly, but worried wouldn’t quite fit in with the Indietracks mentality. Things got off to a shaky start with Eddie Argos almost immediately using the t-word (a crime here one might suspect) and getting the Indietracks version of a bottling (sweets thrown at him) for his trouble. Of course, it didn’t take them long to win everyone round, particularly once Argos had the epiphany that he’s telling people to be less twee while playing from a setlist of songs about public transport, DC comics and chocolate milkshakes. Between this, and proclaiming that MJ Hibbett is “top of the pops”, there doesn’t seem to be anyone still holding out against them. A spirited version of Modern Art, adjusted to “DC comics make me want to rock out” follows a performance almost entirely from the audience, starting what may have been the first Indietracks mosh pit. Their set comes to a storming close with the band’s drummer spectacular falling off the stage by rocking just a bit too hard, to possibly the largest applause of the festival. Five minutes later, the band return for an encore, even if Argos had already put on his jacket to leave.

Which is where Indietracks 2009 comes to a close for me. I could have stayed for Teenage Fanclub, but I’ve never been much of a fan, and nothing was going to top the highs of the Art Brut set. It’s not one moment or performance that makes Indietracks so special though. It’s the atmosphere of the entire event. Of every festival or gig I’ve ever been to, this was by far the nicest. Everyone is generally lovely, the bands are happy to mingle and watch the other bands, and the whole DIY spirit of it all is impressive to behold. It’s hard to articulate that kind of appeal in a review such as this, and that is unfortunate, but Indietracks leave you with a feeling of pure joy. This may have been my first visit to the Midland Railway Centre, but it certainly won’t be my last.

(Apologies for the lateness of these reviews. I came back from Indietracks and quickly came down with something I immediately feared to be swine flu. Thankfully, I was quickly reassured that it was merely twee flu and that it was perfectly normal. What a relief.)

Indietracks isn’t the first festival I’ve gone to this year, nor will it be the last. It’s hard to see how it will be anything other than the most enjoyable event of the year though. Launched in 2007, Indietracks is the ultimate in niche festivals. A tiny capacity, a very precise view of the kind of bands it puts on, with all of this set in a small rail yard. It’s a wonderful feeling (and an unheard one at a festival) that you can walk between any of the stages within a couple of minutes. Most importantly of all, it’s by far the nicest festival that you’ll ever visit.

Arriving at Butterley station on Saturday morning, things didn’t seem so perfect. Bands are starting to play, yet to access the site you have to wait a little while for a steam train to come along and take you there. It’s not a huge inconvenience, and one that was rectified on each return trip to the site by driving around back lanes and being able to park right by the main stage. Seeing as there was nobody on immediately that I was excited about upon reaching the site, there was time to pop round to Brittan Pit Farm. The llamas there have become the stuff of Indietracks legend, and it was mildly disappointing to not see them spit on anyone while visiting. No problem though, as the farm as a whole proved to be a lot of fun, with it’s dalmatian ponies, goats and birds regularly providing a welcome diversion from the festival excitement.

The Frank & Walters ended up being the first band caught in the afternoon, who I wasn’t familiar with beforehand. Typically, just as I arrived to watch their set, they suffered a power cut, which ended up with them having a kickabout on stage (almost bringing it down in the process) to fill the time. They were back on track again within a few minutes, and they turn out to be a pretty enjoyable way to get started. At times they come across a little rocky and perhaps out of place at such an event (at one point asking “is this a trainspotters festival?”), but they seem to go down quite well with everyone.

Wandering over to the train shed, which acts as the main indoor stage, it’s time for Butcher Boy, a Glasgow band I’ve liked for a while now. This was the first time seeing them live, and they managed to greatly impress. Their songs lose none of the zeal of their recordings. Sounding perfectly arranged, in a few minutes they managed to prove that not all indiepop has to sound ramshackle. Unfortunately, I have to confess that I didn’t pay attention to a part of their set as I’d spotted the mighty merch stall for the first time. A vigorous browsing session later and I’d left with albums by Cats on Fire and Zipper, a label sampler, a Ballboy shirt and some Fortuna Pop badges. I could have spent a hell of a lot more there, so let’s be thankful that there wasn’t a cash machine on site.

Some general wandering of the site followed, which saw a bit of Speedmarket Avenue’s set (fine, but not really my cup of tea) and The Lovely Eggs setting up on the church stage. Annoyingly, the setting up was about all I did see, the heat/crowd in the church quickly becoming too much. Apparently their set was incredibly good too. Back to the train shed again, and it’s time for Cats on Fire, a wonderful band from Finland, who manage to bring on the dancing for the first time of the weekend. Their set was rather heavy on their latest album, which I hadn’t heard much of beforehand, but the almighty singalong and general happiness that radiated through the set meant that I had a copy by the time I left the festival. Alas, I missed the later part of their set as it was time to wander over to the main stage for Camera Obscura.

I was a little anxious about seeing Camera Obscura as while I’m a big fan of their music, they don’t seem to have the greatest live reputation. Fears are rapidly quelled though with a stunning set that healthily mixes in new album material with a number of the old classics. The band themselves may look utterly miserable on stage (I’m sure they aren’t really), but the beautifully arranged sound played out with a backdrop of the sun setting behind the stage makes for one of the performances of the festival.

Back to the train shed once again where Emmy the Great should be playing, but there’s actually no sign of her. Nothing has been set up on stage, everyone looks a bit confused and I even overhear someone discussing how she hasn’t turned up yet. Eventually her band hurry onto the stage about 45 minutes after the scheduled stage time, and within minutes the set is under way. Apologies are made about being stuck in traffic on the M1 in between songs, but it’s seemingly ruined any flow the set may have had. She lurches from song to song without a setlist, constantly checking how long she’s been playing for before finishing up barely past the thirty minute mark. Still, the storming version of Where Is My Mind? means that most complaints are quickly overlooked. As a whole, the songs individually are fine, but as a set, it left a lot to be desired.

This is about where Saturday at Indietracks ends up for me. On the way out, I caught a few minutes of La Casa Azul, who was putting on an electro-pop set both mystifying and brilliant on the main stage. Would have stayed longer if not for the desperate need for food and some sleep.

Well, that was just about the most perfect weekend ever.

A proper review (you know, with words and stuff) will be following tomorrow, but here are 134 pictures from the joy that was Indietracks 2009.

As usual, you can click through to Flickr for the full size versions.

This past weekend brought the second festival of 2009 for Another Form of Relief. It was a local festival, but one that I never intended on going to given it’s ludicrous £125 ticket cost. Seemingly others thought the same, given ticket sales struggled to such a degree that they were giving £250 of tickets away with £10 items via a clothing store. So, one Kangaroo Poo beach towel later and I had guestlist access to two days of live music. Not too shabby.

Arriving on site at around noon, the car parking was fairly well organised and it wasn’t a long walk (in festival terms) to the box office entrance. Where, of course, we weren’t on the guest list where we should have been. Joining a second queue of people all in the same boat, it took a bit of hassle with customer services, but eventually we got our wristbands and got in.

To be presented with one of the most deserted festival sites known to man.

After exploring the site for a bit and getting our bearings, we headed over to the main stage and caught a bit of Howling Bells. They are a band that I’ve been vaguely aware of but never heard much of it, and I’m happy to say that relationship is perfectly intact after their set. They were fine I suppose, but nothing grabbed me to a degree that I had to rush home and find some of their songs.

Next up were Noah and the Whale, a band I rather like, if not entirely. I love 5 Years Time and a few others, and thankfully they played all of the ones I knew. They weren’t exactly what I expected, the sound of four of them live without the voice of Laura Marling was a little bit odd. Not too bad, but 5 Years Time certainly lost some of it’s shine. The newer songs they played were fine, if not as immediate. I suspect they will be growers though.

After that it was a quick dash over to the stupidly small Third Stage, which had some of the best bands of the weekend. We arrived to find Let’s Wrestle about halfway through their set. They sounded good, replicating their recorded sound incredibly well. The only downside was that they ran out of songs 20 minutes before their set was due to end. It was salvaged my audience participation, an extra long jam session and a boisterous rendition of their signature “let’s fucking wrestle!” that certain members of the audience seemed to take to heart.

The mighty Johnny Foreigner followed them and provided the highlight of the weekend. Their set was littered with new songs, and new renditions of old favourites. The band flirted with some new arrangements too, including one song where Kelly took to the drums and Junior picked up a bass and a couple more songs that made use of a fourth member. Alexei seemed to be having a good time throughout, correcting the MC when taking the stage with “we’re actually Editors” and calling a Twang cover of Bran Van 3000’s Drinking in LA “the worst fucking thing I’ve ever heard” when they were playing the same festival.

Back to the main stage afterwards for Ash, a band where I know the singles and that’s about it. Which is fine given that is mostly what they stuck with, just littering in the odd new song while constantly assuring us they would get back to the hits. All of the usual suspects made it into the set: Burn, Baby Burn and Shining Light, with the superb Girl From Mars providing the first almighty audience sing along of the day.

Off to the Third Stage once again for The Joy Formidable, who to my surprise had completely packed out the tent. I must have missed the point between Reading last year and now where they became massive, but it certainly felt like they had made it. It was a loud, messy set that went over incredibly well and if they aren’t playing headline slots by the end of the year I’ll be amazed.

That was where day one ended for us. The festival itself went on for a few more hours, with The Fratellis and The Pigeon Detectives being the highest acts on the main stage. But given they are shit, why bother staying?

We returned for day two and had a much longer walk from a much further car park. Which was at the very least good exercise.

Ladyhawke is someone I only know via one song that I’ve heard in someone’s car over and over again. I wasn’t expecting anything more than generic dance nonsense, so I was pleasantly surprised by her set. She seemed rather awkward on stage (apparently she has Asperger’s) and was plagued by technical difficulties throughout, but her performance was rather good. Not spectacular by any means, but an enjoyable way to spend 40 minutes.

The Super Furry Animals were up next, a band I’ve never been much of a fan of short of one or two songs. Neither of which they actually played. They were rather fun though, bringing their own “Woah!” and “Applause” audience cue cards. We actually left about halfway through their set to get to the Third Stage, so maybe they did play the songs I like after all.

I’ve read so many things about Dananananaykroyd’s “legendary” live performances, but nothing quite prepared me for what I walked into. Arriving in the tent, the band were just having the audience perform the Wall of Cuddles. They followed this by storming through a song with such ferocity that they immediately blew out an amp. While this was being fixed, the band killed time by telling jokes (“What has eight legs and is harmless to kids?” “The Jackson Four”) and playing a television theme tune quiz. We got through Eastenders, Hollyoaks (“that show sucks balls”) and another before everything was good to go again. The band launched into their second wind even more manically than the first, security trying to drag Callum back on stage from crowdsurfing while singing repeatedly. It was an insane, but utterly fitting show for the band, and I hope to see them playing outside of a festival environment in the future.

If it’s possible to go to sleep while standing in a crowd of people enjoying themselves at a festival, I could have managed it during Doves. Nothing particularly wrong with them at all, just all very uninteresting.

Speaking of uninteresting, Editors were on next. The crowd seemed to enjoy them, so maybe it was just me, but they bored me to tears on the most part. I just spent the time watching the lead singer flail around like a lunatic for seemingly no apparent reason. Never have I so randomly and intently hated a man as much as that guy. Thankfully we left about halfway through and I didn’t have to suffer any more of his twattery.

The last band of the weekend for me were the rather pleasant Rumble Strips. I missed most of their set, but I enjoyed what I saw. The band seemed to be very much on form, even managing to get the brass instruments sounding good in a live setting, which isn’t always an easy feat. I felt kind of bad that I only caught about three of their songs after the event.

And that was it.

Some random observations:
- The security guards were fine at times, dickish at others.
- The bar had nice, cheaply priced drinks.
- The food stalls had crappy, expensive food.
- The toilets (in the bar at least) were excellent by festival standards.
- The Grilled Chicken & Bacon Salad in the Brookers Oast next door to the site is lovely.
- The ridiculously long walk to get in and out of the site (and thus to the pub) was a bit of a git.
- For a festival that prides itself on “no VIP areas” so “everyone has the same experience”, it seems odd to have a VIP bar.

Pretty damn good for the price of a towel though.

Photos from Day One can be found here.

The second day of the Hop Farm Festival was a bit busier, presumably due to the headline appearance by Paul Weller. Still fairly well organised, although security seemed a bit more regimented. Everything ran more or less to time, and the music wasn’t too bad, if a little close to middle of the road blandness for me at times.

Highlights today:
- Ladyhawke was surprisingly enjoyable, given I didn’t expect her to be very good at all.
- Dananananaykroyd had an insane set on the Third Stage, including the “wall of cuddles”, band crowdsurfing and technical difficulties masked by a tv theme tune quiz and jokes.
- The grilled chicken and bacon salad I had in the pub next to the site.

Photos below of course. You can still click through to Flickr for the full size versions. Next up on the Another Form of Relief festival tour: Indietracks!

Photos from Day Two can be found here.

Interesting first day at the Hop Farm Festival down here in Kent. Even with the massive ticket giveaways it has obviously still struggled to fill out the 20,000 capacity. Which is kind of a shame, firstly because it’d be nice to see a local festival succeed, and secondly because it’s actually quite decent. Despite suffering from some odd lineup ordering (The View higher than Ash, really?), it’s a fairly professional, well laid festival.

Highlights today:
- Johnny Foreigner who included a whole bunch of a new material in their drunken set, a new band member on a few songs, saw Kelly and Junior swap positions and more.
- Let’s Wrestle played to a small, but certainly rowdy audience.
- The Joy Formidable seem to have become ten times more popular than when we saw them at Reading last year too, which was a pleasant surprise.
- Ash, who I haven’t heard anything from in the best part of ten years, were really bloody good.

Photos below. You can click through to Flickr for the full size versions. Tomorrow’s lineup includes British Sea Power, The Rumble Strips, Super Furry Animals, Editors and the mighty Dananananaykroyd.

I was up in Leicester over the weekend for the Big Session Festival. If I’m honest, it wasn’t my musical cup of tea on the most part. I can appreciate the folk and all, but it’s not really my thing. That said, a couple of acts did stand out. Babel were a rather pleasant discovery, and Billy Bragg was highly entertaining. I’ve never been a particularly big fan of Bragg, but the man puts on one hell of a show.

A small gallery of photos can be found below. Not many from inside the festival itself largely because I hadn’t worked out how to take pictures in the dark on my new camera. So a handful from the festival and a few pictures from around Leicester in general.

One of the things I always find lamentable about Kent is the lack of a quality music scene. Sure, you’d get odd bits and pieces at the Tunbridge Wells Forum, but that was about it for the entire county outside of unknown local bands playing in dodgy bars every now and again. It always amazed me how Canterbury, a city with a large student population, didn’t have any real full-time venue for indie music.

Welcome The Farmhouse. It’s about damn time.

The Farmhouse is operated by the same people that run Canterbury’s Lounge on the Farm festival, an event that is now entering it’s fourth year. The venue has actually been up and running for a while now, but this was the first opportunity I’d had to get down there.

The thing that most struck me upon entering was how unlike a typical venue it was. Sure, it had the usual bar, posters and tiny stage in the corner. But also sofas, a ton of tables and hell, even flowers in the toilets. See, the place is only a live music venue after 9pm. All day, it’s a restaurant, and it retains the laid back feel that comes with that right through the night.

First band on were The Goodtimes from Southend. They started things off pretty well too. Nothing sensationally original granted, but solid, fun rock and roll that kicks off the night perfectly. Next up were local Rochester band The Mind Without Maths. If I’m honest, they weren’t entirely my cup of tea, but they were decent enough.

Finally, and getting close to midnight before even stepping on stage, it was Sky Larkin’s turn. Now Sky Larkin are a band that I have been following on here for the best part of three years now. In that time they have gone from being an unsigned band with a few good songs to a signed band who has released their first album, toured all over the place and even supported the likes of Broken Social Scene and Conor Oberst.

This was the second time I’d seen them the live. That time they were a support to Los Campesinos! but two years later they are enough to attract a crowd themselves. The set itself is of course made up mostly of songs from their recent album The Golden Spike. Songs like Antibodies, Fossil, I and Keepsakes all come across particularly well, even if the last struggled with a minor incident instrument failure (see tweet below). The band seem much more rounded than that last time too, the three of them managing to fill the room with a melodic racket.

weareskylarkin twitter
Scoreboard tonight; 1 Stevie nicks style dancing injury, 1 broken 45yr old snare skin, 1 bottle vin rouge, 1 van rouge. Canterbury roolz kx

Upcoming gigs at The Farmhouse include Jeremy Warmsley, Maths Class and Eben. Details here.