Skiver's Gigs

Pixies

2010-06-11T08:30:00.001+01:00

There are some things that should just not be allowed. Venues, for example, should not be allowed to charge £3.50 for a tiny bottle of Budweiser. I don't mind paying over the odds, you expect that, but six times the retail price is taking the piss - almost literally, in the case of Budweiser.

Another thing that shouldn't be allowed is people going to gigs when (a) they were not conceived when the band concerned became famous and (b) have made no effort over the intervening years to learn anything approaching even basic gig etiquette, resulting in me having to waste a perfectly good half pint of cola by pouring it over their head because they are behaving like a moron.

The thing that really shouldn't be allowed, though, is Pixies showing up and looking exactly five years younger than they did when I last saw them five years ago. It's wrong. Black Francis now looks younger than I do.

As for the gig, well, it is pretty run of the mill for a band who have, very wisely, realised that no-one wants to hear new songs, they want the old songs played brilliantly. And by asking their fans to pick the songs they wanted to hear, they guarantee themselves a rapturous reception. (In fact, Kim Deal regularly chides those who didn't reply to the band's email asking for suggestions).

None of which is much good if you can't still play, but in a strange way they actually seem better than ever, too. There's no messing about, just four people playing great songs very very well indeed. They even throw in the old 'Make Kim Laugh' trick, by doing something she doesn't expect. This time it is by throwing a breakdown into the middle of 'Gigantic', prompting the bass player to giggle (she's getting younger by the minute, isn't she?) "Why are we breaking this song down, we've not done for the last twenty years" (twenty years ago, Kim Deal was 186).

Anyway, I don't need to say any more. Look at this set list. Is there any song that you wouldn't want to hear? Thought not.

Cecilia Ann
Rock Music
Bonemachine
Monkey Gone To Heaven
Gouge Away
Hey
Velouria
Dig For Fire
Allison
Debaser
Planet of Sound
Alec Eiffel
Caribou
River Euphrates
Cactus
Is She Weird?
Break My Body
The Sad Punk
Head On
Wave of Mutilation
Tame
Isla De Enchanta
Nimrod's Son
The Holiday Song
Gigantic
Where Is My Mind?
Here Comes Your Man

Tribes

2010-06-10T18:16:00.003+01:00

A word of warning. This review contains a disturbing mental image and some racial stereotyping.

On the other hand, if you were easily offended, you probably wouldn't be here.

Tribes, you see, are the result of a bizarre genetic experiment, which involved taking the members of The Cure, Pixies and Radiohead and then locking them in a room until they bred. And then locking the resulting offspring in another room until they bred. Which means it was a room in Kentucky, where such behaviour is socially acceptable.

All of this results in four guys making a sound which sounds both extraordinarily familiar, and at the same time like nothing you have ever heard before.

Like with all new bands, there is some good stuff here, and some not so good. The good stuff - such as 'Himalaya' and set closer 'Whenever' is very good indeed. So good, in fact, that I'd go out and buy them - if only I could stop trying to poke my mind's eye out with this stick.

Carter USM

2009-11-15T23:36:00.001Z

There are plenty of ways to grow old disgracefully. You can be one of those people who just refuses to accept the ageing process and who spends most of their disposable income on Botox. You can saddle yourself with a string of high profile lovers, all unsuitable and all after your money. You can even be arrested for petty larceny, perhaps the theft of cucumbers from a big shop.

Alternatively, you can ditch your scruffy, 'worst haircut in pop, ever', look and show up for your annual reunion show in a lounge suit and sporting a bouffant hairdo – an effect which, frankly, makes you look like the lovechild of Adam Green and Julian Casablancas.

This last is, of course, how Carter's Jim Bob chooses to show up this evening. It sits slightly incongruously with everything else – the songs, the way he used to look, the fact that Fruitbat not only seems not to have aged, but could pass for the 'shy lead guitarist' role in any number of heavier pop-rock bands (Simple Plan were the band who sprang to mind). Yet it is also very Carter – always challenging, never quite what you expect them to be, yet still reassuringly familiar.

This is, of course, a return to the Carter well all know and love. Gone is the six piece of the mid-nineties. This is just Jim Bob, Fruitbat, and a whole load of technology. Tonight is all about the band's first two albums – '101 Damnations' and '30 Something'. With typical perversity, they choose to begin with the second one, cracking into 'Surfin USM' as if they had never been away.

From then on, it's a run through all of the songs that Carter fans hold most dear. We've all heard 'Sheriff Fatman' a hundred times since it was released, but there's a visceral thrill to hearing it live after so many years. From 'Second to Last Will and Testament' to the closing thrash of 'A Perfect Day to Drop the Bomb' (during which JimBob appears to get so carried away that he hits himself with his own guitar), this is one long singalong, two men preaching to the converted in the best way possible.

The best thing about tonight, though, is that it could easily be 1991 all over again (Jim Bob's attire aside, obviously). The songs don't seem to have aged at all and even the subject matter of songs such as 'Billy's Smart Circus' remains depressingly similar to the situation in 2009. The feeling is only exacerbated when the band end with superb overs of 'Bedsitter' and 'Rent'.

The final word, though, has to go to the bloke stood next to me at the bar, right as Carter launched into 'Twenty-Four Minutes From Tulse Hill', “Don't you just miss it?” he asked. Don't we all?

Los Campesinos!

2009-11-01T22:03:00.000Z

'Difficult' is a word which easily springs to mind when you consider Los Campesinos!. After all, frontman Gareth allegedly became a vegan because it would be more difficult being a vegetarian. Fitting seven people onto a stage as small as the Relentless Garage's is difficult, but adding an eighth just ratchets the trickiness up a little more. And taking all of the indie pop sounds that characterised your first album out of your third one, well, that just keeps things interesting, doesn't it.

There are three reasons why Los Campesinos are playing tonight. One is to reintroduce themselves to a British audience, having spent most of the year touring in North America. A second is to introduce new keyboardist/vocalist Kim. And a third is to preview new album 'Romance is Boring'. The first of these objectives is resoundingly achieved – the Garage is packed with an audience which seems to be approximately half die-hard loyalists and half intrigued newcomers. Not only do none of them leave before the end, almost none of them even visit the bar during the band's set.

The second objective is less easy to judge. Kim stands wide out on the right of the crowded stage and yet somehow seems to be detached from the rest of the band. Sound problems mean that her vocals are almost inaudible at times. The important thing, though, is that no-one in the crowd seems to disapprove of her being there, which isn't always the way when a band's line-up changes (witness the difference of opinion among die-hard Cure fans when ex-roadie Perry Bamonte joined the band).

As for 'Romance is Boring', well, it is noticeable how three of the four tracks previewed tonight push further the route taken on second album 'We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed', with only the title track retaining the pop sensibilities and the rest being driven by Ellen's bass and the chiming guitar work of Tom. In fact, even allowing for the newness of the songs, there is an odd stillness to the crowd when they are played, as if actually dancing would be in some way disrespectful.

In fact, there is an exponential increase in the reaction which a song gets according to how old it is, with particular affection being reserved for 'You! Me! Dancing!' and set closer 'Sweet Dreams Sweet Cheeks'.

The band themselves are on fine form for a group of people who were diagnosed with swine flu 24 hours later, though just how many people Gareth infected with his frequent forays into the audience is anyone's guess. And when was the last time you saw a band where the security team had more trouble keeping the singer on the stage than the crowd off it?

Reading Festival 2009

2009-09-04T16:39:00.000+01:00

A review of all of the bands seen at this year's festival appears below. Unfortunately, the atrocious sound from the main stage made it impossible to cover many of the acts appearing there, as it was just too painful to listen to them.

As in previous years, start with the first band of the festival - in this case Dananananackroyd - and work upwards.

The Skiver

AFI

2009-09-04T16:30:00.000+01:00

The history of AFI in this country is littered with missed opportunities. Never quite as popular here as in the USA, they seem to have had chance after chance to stamp their authority on a wider audience, yet missed it.

Seen live, it becomes clear why. However charismatic a frontman Davey Havok may be, AFI have neither the showmanship, the musicianship or the tunes of, say, My Chemical Romance. Which is a shame for them, because the retirement of The Black Parade is precisely that which gives them their latest shot at the British public.

Which makes it disappointing that they turn in such a lacklustre, dispeptic performance tonight. They leave no trick unturned, but there's a sense that they are trying too hard to please, bringing too much aggression and too little subtlety.

A Fire Inside? Tonight, it seems more like indigestion.

The Rumble Strips

2009-09-04T15:20:00.000+01:00

The Rumble Strips are another band who have not enjoyed 2009. Their new album was derided by critics, as much for it's Mark Ronson connections as anything else (although, in the case of the execrable 'Douglas', thoroughly deserved criticism) and it is as if everyone forgot how novel their trumpet/sax/guitar sound was back in 2006.

Live, it becomes clear that among those people are The Rumble Strips themselves. Whilst the old material is uplifting and engaging, the new music has lost sight of what made them special, abandoning the horns for more guitars and piano. Unfortunately, none of the material is strong enough to cope with this - in fact, with the exception of recent single 'Not The Only Person', there's nothing very interesting here at all. Which makes it more surprising that so many old songs - such as the sublime 'Oh Creole' - are abandoned in favour of dross such as 'Daniel'.

There is definitely a future for The Rumble Strips, but they need to re-discover who they are first.

Gallows

2009-09-04T15:14:00.000+01:00

Gallows have learned a thing or two over their three successive years of playing Reading. Not least of these is how to shamelessly suck up to the audience. Released from the confines of the Lock-Up Stage for once, they have no compunction about changing the title and words of 'London Is The Reason' to honour their host city.

It is a credit to the strength of their new material that it sits easily with the older songs from 'Company Of Wolves'. Frank Carter himself is in fine form, bouncing across the stage like something demented, pausing only to praise the crowd and slag off the American bands they have just toured with. As close to a homecoming as these Hertfordshire boys are going to get, this is a triumphant one.

The Hot Rats

2009-09-04T13:09:00.000+01:00

The Hot Rats, in case you hadn't heard, are Gaz Coombes and Danny Goffey from Supergrass, backed in spirit (if not in person) by Radiohead produced Nigel Godrich. Basically, they are a high quality covers band. This is fine when they are attempting to do something different with a song - their cover of The Beastie Boys' '(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party)' is very good indeed - but when they stick to a straight run-through (or as straight as they manage in a set bedevilled by technical problems with Goffey's backing-music-providing i-Pod) it is little more entertaining than listening to someone hog the karaoke.

Broken Records

2009-09-04T12:02:00.001+01:00

It is hard to know how to categorise Broken Records. There's some traditional folk roots in here, but mixed with elements of country and some indie/punk ethics creeping in, too. It is almost as if someone crossed the Levellers with The Pentangle. Slightly weird, slightly disconcerting, listenable but not entirely entertaining.

Top marks for admitting that they have to go back to their day jobs to raise money to tour again. Sadly, I think they'll find this a recurring theme.

Brand New

2009-09-04T11:01:00.001+01:00

STOP. FUCKING. SHOUTING.

The Joy Formidable

2009-09-04T10:10:00.000+01:00

YES! At last, early on Sunday afternoon, comes the first act to take Reading by the scruff of the neck, force it over the nearest available crash barrier and thrash it senseless.

Previously regarded as little more than Sundays copyists, the three piece from North Wales treat us to the best bits of debut album 'A Balloon Called Moaning', all performed at high speed and with maximum intensity, culminating in bassist Rhydian thrashing seven bells out of a perfectly innocent dustbin whilst singer/guitarist Ritzy flails her instrument about the stage.

None of which, as Fight Like Apes proved 48 hours earlier, would work without the tunes to back it all up, but The Joy Formidable have these in spades. Single 'Cradle' will be familiar to many already, but the likes of 'Austere', '9669' and 'The Last Drop' are even better. Definitely a band who deserved a higher billing this weekend.

The XX

2009-09-04T09:00:00.000+01:00

You have to feel sorry for The XX. At the moment, the music press love them. History tells us that this means they are doomed and that, eventually, every little slight imperfection in what they do will be held up under the cruelest of magnifying glasses and turned against them a thousand times more. Look at The Twang, The View and any number of other former press darlings now written off, to be derided forever, whatever they do.

The XX make coffee shop music, the sort of background noise that you find in Starbucks and their ilk. It is telling that their set only really becomes interesting when the crowd are given large black letter 'x's to throw around, thus providing the extra distraction that the coffee shop brings. You can tell that they have grand ideas, but they lack the level of musicianship that can bring those ideas to fruition. Their imagining of Womack & Womack's 'Teardrops' is wonderfully inventive and yet at the same time woefully flawed. Ideally they need time away from the spotlight to hone their act; sadly, the future seems to hold anything but that.

Thursday

2009-09-04T08:00:00.001+01:00

The problem with a Thursday gig is that it's a bit like going for a meal at a fast food restaurant. You can have your old favourite ('Understanding In A Car Crash'), for the brand new item ('The Suffocation Of A Dead Man'), for something unusual ('The Other Side Of The Crash') or even one of those odd things that are always on the menu but you've never dared try before ('Cross Out The Eyes'), but you keep wishing you had (a) had more and (b) that you'd just had the old favourite over and again.

To put it more simply, Thursday's problem is that, the best part of a decade on, they have never come close to bettering 'Understanding...', and tonight they open with 'Understanding...', meaning that whatever they play for the following 45 minutes, all the crowd really want is 'Understanding...'. Which is more painfully ironic than any band should have to bear.

White Lies

2009-09-04T00:57:00.000+01:00

It has been one heck of a twelve months for White Lies. This time last year they just about crept onto the third stage. Since then they've done an NME tour, supported The Cure and had a Top 10 Album.

The change from that Cure support in February is marked. Confidence levels have shot up. So have, to be frank, egos - where once smiles were wan, now they just look smug. There's something very smooth, very competent and yet slightly unloveable.

With no new material on display, this is a live run-through of much of 'To Lose My Life'. It is very good, the crowd sing back with gusto and the band clearly appreciate the affection. It is just a shame that there wasn't more warmth and sincerity flowing from the stage.

Maximo Park

2009-09-03T23:40:00.000+01:00

Paul Smith is looking far happier than a frontman on Reading's main stage should. The event's legendarily unreliable sound system seems to be in even worse condition than usual. (The organisers later trot out the standard and predictable 'It's the weather' excuse, which frankly is now even thinner than Gordon Brown's credibility). Smith, however, is unperturbed as he leads his band through a perfectly balanced set, which includes four numbers from new album 'Quicken The Heart', some old favourites and a brass band backed rendition of live rarity 'Acrobat'. Interestingly, and as further evidence that the music press really know very little at all, the two best received songs tonight - 'Books From Boxes' and closer 'Our Velocity' - both come from their critically panned second album. Laughing in the face of adversity and sticking two fingers up at the industry? Could Maximo Park be the first stereotypically Geordie band?

Rival Schools

2009-09-03T23:27:00.002+01:00

Welcome back, Rival Schools. You have been missed. Looking younger than the press photos would have you believe, Walter Schreifels and co perform like they have never been away. There's a smattering of new material to go alongside classics such as 'Used For Glue' and 'Good Things', but at the end of the day this is about introducing themselves to a new audience, reconnecting with the old one and having a damn good time whilst doing so.

Them Crooked Vultures

2009-09-03T21:07:00.002+01:00

Alain Johannes must wake up every morning and think he's the luckiest man in the world. And then he must remember that he sometimes has to play bass in the same band as John Paul Jones and start screaming.

In fairness, Johannes plays his part to perfection - efficient yet unobtrusive, knowing full well that it is the other three guys on stage that have caused the packed NME tent, extra security precautions and vague hysteria.

TCV's music is almost a perfect blend of Led Zepplin and Queens of the Stone Age. Which is unsurprising, when you consider that the band is effectively 1/4 Zep and 3/4 'Songs For The Deaf' era QOTSA. Heck, even the stage set up reveals this - Johannes and Josh Homme - tonight playing the role of self-effacing frontman - have one amp each; Jones has three stacks of them.

In truth, though, TCV are far, far more about the experience than the music. If you were to view this entirely dispassionately, what you have here are four middle aged men being horrendously self indulgent. Jones somehow manages to squeeze pretty much every instrument he has ever played into a 40 minute set - including what appears to be a 12 string bass. Homme prowls and growls in his usual fashion, pausing only to exhort the crowd to chant the name of Dave Grohl at regular intervals (and, to his credit, causing the drummer no little embarrassment). But the music, well, it's pretty easily forgotten. Eventually, TCV are going to need a trick other than just being TCV.

Patrick Wolf

2009-09-03T20:52:00.002+01:00

It is hard to know where to begin with Patrick Wolf. The man appears to be part opera singer, part peacock and part Jimmy Saville. His costumes, on the other hand, are part WWF wrestler, part glam rocker, part explosion in a paint factory. He prances. He preens. He whistles 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' during a costume change. He plays a Flying V, yet also manages the not inconsiderable task of playing violin and singing at the same time. And yet the biggest, screamingest contradiction is the music. Whilst the world's most over the top camp rock show rages around him, Wolf belts out tunes that would not be out of place in a West End musical. Which means that, for all of the pomp and drama, the songs are kind of forgettable. For example, the penultimate song is a new one called 'Hard Times' and all I can remember about it is the title. And I defy anyone to remember more of closer 'Magic Position' than the refrain 'You put me in the magic position'.

In short, incredibly good fun, but there is not a lot of point being a musician if no-one remembers your music.

Metric

2009-09-02T11:10:00.000+01:00

Remember 'Monster Hospital' from a few years ago? Well, Metric are back and are absolutely determined to prove that they are not one-song wonders. Frontwoman Emily Haines stomps across the stage in a silver dress, whilst the rest of the band finally deliver the sort of performance that 'Monster Hospital' had hinted at, but which had never appeared on this festival stage before.

With much of the set drawn from the recent 'Fantasies' album, it would be understandable if the set lost momentum at times. It is a tribute to the quality of the songwriting and the power of the performance that it never did.

Spinnerette

2009-09-02T09:57:00.000+01:00

You have to feel sorry for Brodie Dalle. If any woman in music is destined to be defined by her beaus, it is her. Which is tough, because she's far more deserving of success than other serial starfuckers like Courtney Love.

On the other hand, she doesn't always help herself. The Distillers were raw and unfocused, a situation leading only to a massive internal collapse when the music press came beating down their door. This time, however, it is Dalle herself who has been talking up Spinnerette. Which, frankly, is a mistake. There is nothing special about them, you would be hard pressed to remember one song half an hour later and however engaging a frontwoman Brodie is, she's not working with any decent material here.

Dephic

2009-09-02T09:19:00.002+01:00

Another band coming to the festival with a big reputation. Another letdown. Frankly, if you are going to try and rip off New Order, why pick the rubbish 2000s version?

I'm trying really hard to think of something positive to say about this band, but when you've been subjected to half an hour of directionless electronic noodling, it is hard to be charitable.

Faith No More

2009-09-02T08:00:00.003+01:00

Oh God, this is so wrong. The red curtains draping the stage give off an aura of 'Murph and the Magictones'. Mike Patton is wearing a matching suit and looks like Huey Morgan's dad. Everyone else is wearing a suit - Roddy Bottum has even adorned his with a carnation.

Then, once you have got over the shock of one of the great rock acts of the 90s suddenly morphing into the band from The Wedding Singer, you are forced to confront the horrible truth that none of FNM's songs have really aged that well, either. In fact, everything bar 'Epic' sounds, well, a bit rubbish. Which is probably why the band feel the need to pad out their headline set with cover versions such as The Commodores' 'Easy' and, bizarrely, the 'Eastenders' theme (twice!). All in all, hard to escape the feeling of a band whose time has passed.

Jamie T

2009-09-02T07:02:00.000+01:00

Jamie T is in trouble. He's nowhere near the send of his set and his voice is giving out. He's also got to do it all again in Leeds tomorrow night. Under such circumstances, he could be forgiven for giving up and going home, so - whatever you think of his music - you have to give him credit for soldiering on. 'Sheila' and 'Sticks and Stones' and rattled through at breakneck speed, but at least he tried. Which is more than you can say for a lot of people.

Soulsavers feat. Mark Lanegan

2009-09-02T00:47:00.002+01:00

Look at this picture. THAT is how dark it was at this show. Which, in turn, gives you some idea of how the music was. Think 'Nick Cave on Mogadon' and you've got a fair idea - dark, gloomy, slow paced; melodic, yes, but with Lanegan's mournful drone lying over the top of it.

Really, it shouldn't be too hard to predict how an act like this will sound. Soulsavers have been peddling their gloomy tunes for almost a decade now; Lanegan has been around even longer, first as the doom-laden voice of Screaming Trees, later as one of Queens of the Stone Age's many collaborators (he wrote and performed one of their greatest songs 'The Hanging Tree'). The problem is that, however good the songs are, after 20 minutes or so standing about listening to a very tall man dressed all in black stand stock still and sing along to some other people also dressed in black on a darkened stage becomes a little, well, dull. On record, this is a brilliant collaboration. Live, it just doesn't quite work.

Bombay Bicycle Club

2009-09-01T23:55:00.000+01:00

Not for the first or last time this weekend, a band confused the entire audience by going straight from their soundcheck into the performance proper without so much as a word. In the case of Bombay Bicycle Club - or BBC to their friends - this enabled them to launch straight into recent album 'I Had The Blues But I Let Them Go' and probably squeeze one extra song into their allotted time - a cunning wheeze if ever there was one.

In truth, there's not a lot of light and shade in a BBC set. Each song trips along happily at its own pace, nothing much happens and yet it is all done rather inoffensively and in the best of humours. I wouldn't say I would go and see BBC again, but they were fun whilst they lasted

Black Lips

2009-09-01T23:33:00.002+01:00

OK, the award for the politest band of the festival is won hands down by, surprisingly, Augusta's Black Lips. Given the band's reputation for outrageous stage shows, hearing singer/guitarist Cole Alexander politely ask if he can borrow a plectrum from anyone is slightly disconcerting. Second guitarist Ian Saint Pe then teases the audience by announcing that the show will start in five minutes, only for the other three members of the band to run on and begin anyway.

From then on, it is pretty much plain sailing for these Georgians. Their style of music can best be described as 'absolutelyeverythingthateverhappenedsinceBillHayley' - at times you could close your eyes and believe that you were in the early 1960s, or the late 1970s, or indeed any time but now. Which isn't to say that their sound isn't contemporary, because you couldn't get the Black Lips sound without every other genre of music having happened. There's absolutely none of the tomfoolery that they have indulged in in the past; this is just 45 minutes of pure enjoyment.

Florence &The Machine

2009-09-01T22:23:00.003+01:00

Today is Florence Welch's birthday. She has just unwrapped a shiny new megaphone and is using it to good effect. She is also skipping across the stage, climbing the lighting gantry and generally having a whale of a time.

It's just a shame that her material is so patchy. 'Drumming Song' is awesome, threatening to lift the tent from it's moorings. 'Rabbit Heart', on the other hand, falls somewhat flat and it is hard to see young women singing along to the lyric to 'Kiss With A Fist' without feeling a genuine sense of unease as a highly emotive topic, something normally whispered behind closed doors, is sung out in the cavernous NME/Radio 1 tent.

Fight Like Apes

2009-09-01T21:59:00.000+01:00

It says something for the awfulness of Jack's Mannequin that Fight Like Apes are not the runaway winners of the 'worst band of the festival' award. Listen to this Irish quartet online and you might get the impression that they are quite a prospect. See them live and you find four people more intent upon farting about with scaffolding poles than putting on a performance. Horribly, horribly disappointing.

A Place To Bury Strangers

2009-09-01T20:57:00.003+01:00

Listening to New York's A Place To Bury Strangers is a bit like sniffing at a fine wine: "Mmm, a bit of My Bloody Valentine"; "Yes, definitely some Jesus and Mary Chain there"; "Ahh, the faint whiff of Helmet"; "Mogwai, maybe?"

From this you will gather that APTBS have but one setting - 'ferocious aural assault' - which could in itself be the name of one of the effects pedals that frontman Oliver Ackerman designs for a living. Essentially, the entire stage is his workshop, with every song destruct-tested to the nth degree. Once you've had your ears blistered by the likes of 'To Fix The Gash In Your Head' or 'I Know I'll See You', you'll know that you've been at one of the loudest, most frenetic gigs of your life.

Jack's Mannequin

2009-09-01T08:07:00.000+01:00

The Festival Republic tent - Reading's third stage - is packed full of very small teenagers, all jumping up and down on the spot. Unlike with other bands, it would be a huge mistake to read too much into this. These are the teenagers every music lover hates. They know what they like and they will buy it repeatedly. They have no discernment, no critical capacity. In short, they actually know fuck all about music.

There are four girls stood next to me. They are trying to clap in time with the music. They can't even clap in time with one another. That is the kind of musical halfwit that Jack's Mannequin attract.

There are enough Coldplay imitators out there anyway, but rarely can Chris Martin have been ripped off so badly. This isn't a breach of copyright, it is positively defamatory. The music is the kind of tripe you find soundtracking every crappy American teen movie ever made. The guitarist and bass player call themselves 'Raw' and 'Dr J'. They both play Gibson Flying V guitars, thereby making themselves the least credible wielders of such an instrument since Wellington Womble.

I'm going to have to stop here. There just isn't enough vitriol in the world to describe just how bad this band are.

Little Boots

2009-09-01T07:02:00.000+01:00

It's been a tough year for Victoria Hesketh. Lauded to the heavens at the start of the year, interest in her music waned as the months wore on and she was overtaken in the public consciousness by the likes of Florence Welch.

However, if the crowd packing the NME tent is anything to go by, critical acclaim is a long way secondary to public acclaim. Little Boots give the music press a collective kicking as they shimmer their way through 'Earthquake', grind through a throbbing 'New In Town' and hammer out 'Mathematics'.

Any yes, I know it was raining. But the rain may have got people into the show, but it had nothing to do with how few people were leaving.

Plugs

2009-08-31T23:48:00.002+01:00

Anyone remember a band named Does It Offend You, Yeah?

Come on, you must recall them. Came from Reading. Had a strange habit of naming their songs after films, irrespective of whether the title then went with the song in any way whatsoever. You do? Oh good!

Good, because a few months ago guitarist Morgan Quaintance left the band to go full-time with his other project, Plugs. Surprisingly, it turns out that Plugs are to DIOY,Y? what Chateau Rothschild is to that plonk you get from Sainsbury's in a plastic bottle. 'Imaginary Friend' is a bouncing, shouting classic of a song, whilst set closer 'That Number' combines an extremely catch chorus with a tune so danceable your feet end up hating the band when it ends. Without a doubt, the find of the weekend.

Manchester Orchestra

2009-08-31T23:38:00.000+01:00

Something very odd has happened here. Three festivals ago, Manchester Orchestra were not bad. In 36 months they seem to have stuffed themselves up their collective rear ends and are now churning out horrible, proggy nonsense that even the sort of people who bought Haven albums would find overblown and risible.

Dananananackroyd

2009-08-31T22:29:00.003+01:00

It's Friday, it's 12 O'Clock, it's Reading so it must be time for...it to start absolutely chuffing it down with rain. If the organisers of the Reading Festival could've planned it this way, they would've done, as those who had made it onto the site for the Festival's start are sent running pell mell into the nearest available tent.

All of which means that Glasgow's Dananananackroyd not only get to open the whole festival, but they get to do so in front of the largest crowd they have ever seen in their lives.

Their bouncing, choreographed routines give the impression of a lifetime devoted to too much tartrazine and too many re-runs of Wayne's World and it is a shame that they haven't really worked out how to use their two drummers to good effect, but the energetic stage show and thunderous music make them the idea band to get the Bank Holiday weekend started.

TV On The Radio

2009-08-14T21:57:00.002+01:00

This was weird. I mean, really weird. I've been attending live shows for 25 years now and I've never experienced anything like this.

First, there's the opening. The stage sat empty for over 20 minutes. When even your road crew can't find a reason to get onstage and faff about for a while, you're reaching a new level of self indulgent delay.

That self-indulgence continues as the band appear, launch into 'Halfway Home' and then play a further four tracks from the critically acclaimed 'Dear Science' album. There's a ripple of appreciation from the packed Brixton Academy, but no real enthusiasm. It is as if the masses thought they were attending the Proms instead.

And then all hell breaks loose. Without warning, TVOTR rip into 'Wolf Like Me' and it is as if this is all that 98% of the audience have come for.

But then it all goes flat again, as if a black and white film had momentarily flared into colour and then back again, the moment is lost as the band return to their more experimental material. Perhaps sensing the mood, the band bugger off after a perfunctory two song encore, leaving 30 minutes before curfew and with a huge aura of promise unfulfilled

The Specials

2009-06-01T21:29:00.005+01:00

This is a tough one. Before you even get to the gig, does it count as a real gig? Is it still the Specials if 1/7 of the lineup is missing? Will The Specials without Jerry Dammers be anything like as good as the band was with him?

Then, of course, there is the whole reunion thing anyway. One of the best gigs that this site has ever been to was the reformed Dinosaur Jr. But they didn't generate the same amount of hype that the Specials have managed. Rage Against The Machine, on the other hand, did and were somewhat underwhelming as a result. I guess we just have to go to the gig and find out.

Which is something of an achievement in itself. The Brixton Academy might have a crowd limit, but a limit is one thing when the audience is predominantly skinny goth kids and quite another when the place is stuffed full of fat balding men who wouldn't look out of place at a Black Francis convention. Personal space is, frankly, not an option.

Inside, more posters, more evidence of a clash of egos. Some bill the band as 'The Specials', some as 'The Specials feat. Terry Hall' and others as 'The Specials feat. Terry Hall, Neville Staple and Lynval Golding'. It is hard to tell if this is the product of one almighty row or one almighty cock-up.

Fortunately, all of this wondering can be put to one side when, on the stroke of 9.30, six fifty-something men burst onto the stage and launch into 'Do The Dog' like it was still 1979.

There are three things which are astounding about this show. The first is the energy level. How these guys keep up such a frenetic tempo for 90 minutes is beyond me. The only one who flags, who skives off for a song or two, is Hall - and he's four years younger than any of the others. However rapturously the audience reacts, it just seems to inspire the bands to newer heights.

Second on the list is how good the songs are. Whatever you might think of this band and their politics, they wrote some damn good tunes and time as not withered a single one of them. 'Ghost Town' and 'Too Much Too Young' might be their signatures, but 'Nite Klub', 'Blank Expression' and the sublime 'It Doesn't Make It Alright' are, in their own way, lost classics brought back to life tonight.

And then there is the musicianship. Admittedly, you can't make a comeback and then sound like an unmitigated shambles, but this is a band who are remarkably tight, to the point where I notice only one slight error all evening. Whilst all of the attention is upon the three frontmen, Sir Horace, John and Roddy quietly get on with business behind them - one of the crimes of modern musical history is that no-one seems to truly appreciate what a superb guitarist Roddy Radiation actually is - accompanied by a horn section who barely seem old enough to remember who the band are, and the inevitable keyboardist.

As the evening draws to a close, with 'Skinhead Moonstomp' segue-ing into 'Enjoy Yourself', the Academy becomes one huge amorphous moshpit. Which leaves one final question: Jerry who?

The Cure

2009-03-12T23:02:00.004Z

This is classic Cure. Brilliant, infuriating, inspired, perverse and all points in between, all in one 90 minute set. There has to be some degree of understanding, some allowances made, though. When you've been around for almost 35 years and released 13 albums, whittling all that down to an hour and half must be hard. Especially when you are used to playing for anything up to three and a half hours. In turn, though, this makes it all the harder to understand why they choose to go with not one but three songs which each last in excess of seven minutes. That's 28% of the stage time gone on three numbers and you've still got most of your career to cover.

Infuriation rises on two counts, though. The first is that, when tickets went on sale, Robert Smith promised that this wouldn't be a show to promote the new album, '4.13 Dream'. Yet there are no fewer than six songs in this set from that album, few of which come anywhere close to the highlights of previous albums. Even if Smith wanted to emphasise the band's more recent work, was there really no room for songs such as 'alt.end' or 'Where the Birds Always Sing'? Stand either of those against the bland Cure-by-numbers of songs such as 'The Hungry Ghost' and you can easily see how off-target this set was.

Similarly, for all the protestations that there would be at least one song from each album, no song from 'Wild Mood Swings' got out of the starting gates.

On the other hand, as always with The Cure, the quality of the material and the brilliance of the performance transcends the irritations. 'From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea' is majestic, 'Disintegration' retains all of its brutal angst despite approaching it's 20th birthday and newie 'The Only One' really is everything good the band have ever done rolled into one. Onstage, Smith belies his age in a black hoodie and cargo pants whilst Simon Gallup seems to have turned into a 195os rocker. Porl Thompson, meanwhile, now looks like the bastard offspring of Richard O'Brien and Vivienne Westwood and stomps around the stage in heels higher than most of them women in the audience.

Then, right at the end, they go and spoil it all by changing 'Killing An Arab' to 'Killing Another'. This is political correctness gone mad - but then again, how fitting that they celebrate their legacy by tarnishing a part of it? Its very wrong, but it is very Cure.

Franz Ferdinand

2009-03-12T22:28:00.002Z

Finding something new to say about Scotland's finest art-rockers is hard to do. Everything about Alex Kapranos and co is so, well, safe. You know exactly what you are going to get - a few new songs, slightly more disco than the old ones, but not so much so that they alienate the old fans, old standards like 'Take Me Out' and 'This Fire', and the bit where they all batter seven shades of something out of the drumkit during 'The Outsiders'. Hell, you can even tell that there will be no 'Darts of Pleasure' tonight, because bass player Bob Hardy doesn't have a microphone. It's enjoyable, but it's hardly exciting.

Crystal Castles

2009-03-12T22:04:00.003Z

What an abberation. What a horrible, stinking, filthy abberation. Booking Crystal Castles to play to this audience was the worst decision since Hitler decided that Germany wasn't quite big enough for his ego. They try - oh how they try! - but no matter how much Alice Glass preens, writhes and waves the footlights about, nothing can conceal the fact that, live, Crystal Castles are, well, a bit shit. Yes, there are problems with the microphone that render the vocal inaudible, but at the same time the music of any half decent band should provoke a reaction stronger than the 'So what?' that this set gets.

White Lies

2009-03-12T20:46:00.004Z

What better way to start off a night dedicated to The Cure than with their latest descendants. White Lies take the gloom of early-80s Goth, through in the poppier moments of Joy Division and then add a sprinkling of the late Billy McKenzie to create the sort of epic sound many other bands can only dream of.

There's a delightful touch of naivety in their performance - opening with current single 'Farewell to the Fairground' before many have a chance to get into the auditorium, then tossing off their best known track, 'To Lose My Life', immediately after. But as the audience swells, so does the confidence of Harry, Charles and Jack and by the time they reach the elegiac sounds of 'Death' they have conquered not only their own fears, but the vast cavern that is the O2 Arena as well.

The Wonder Stuff

2008-11-04T23:51:00.002Z

This is odd, for so many reasons. It's odd that 'The Eight Legged Groove Machine' is 20 years old. It's odd that The Wonder Stuff are using this as the premise for a tour. It's odd that they play the album all the way through, in order. Not only did they never do that when it was released, it's not an album which easily lends itself to such a runthrough. It means we get three of the biggest numbers - 'Red Berry Joy Town', 'No For The 13th Time' and 'It's Yer Money I'm After, Baby' - straight off, but then the pace slows and quickens with near reckless abandon. 'A Wish Away' stands alone in a sea of middle ranking album tracks and it is only at the end, when the band crash into 'Unbearable' and 'Poison' that the old fire and aggression reappear.

Some things have obviously changed during the preceding two decades. Miles Hunt is far from the arrogant idiot he was back in those days - indeed, he frequently makes knowing-but-self-deprecating remarks about his past behaviour. Malc Treece still dances like your dad, but he now looks like him, too. But the biggest difference is, of course, that two of the original band are no longer with us. It is a tribute to the musicianship of Andres Karu and Mark McCarthy that they are able to replicate so faithfully the sound of Martin Gilks and Bob 'Bass Thing' Jones. Gilks may have been voted 'Best drummer of all time' (or something similarly trite) by 6Music listeners just after his death, but it is no empty award, the man could really play. At the same time, it is only on occasions like this, when most of his work is being showcased, that you realise what a fine, technical bass player Jones was.

The second half of the set consists of a few more numbers from 1988 - mostly b-sides such as 'Goodbye Fatman' and 'Astley in the Noose', but including 'Who Wants to be the Disco King' - and a selection of choice cuts from the band's later career. If anything, this emphasises how firmly this set was directed at the true fan, as the band eschew popular favourites such as 'Welcome to the Cheap Seats' and go instead for classic album tracks such as 'Cartoon Boyfriend' and 'Caught In My Shadow'. Indeed, Hunt shows some of his old contrariness in deriding the person at an earlier show who asked him not to play 'On the Ropes' - an odd request anyway, as it is one of their finest and most mature numbers.

For the lucky few, there's also a four track aftershow, featuring the three tracks from the band's 'A Wonderful Day' debut, plus the inevitable 'Size of a Cow'. In all, the air is one of celebration, but it is far from a typical Wonder Stuff show.

Jesus Jones

2008-11-04T23:36:00.002Z

Sometimes it is easy to forget just how much music owes to individual bands. Mike Edwards was pretty insufferable during the early 1990s, but without Jesus Jones so much of what has followed may not have happened. Tonight, it is as hard to listen to 'Idiot Stare' and not think of how much the likes of Lostprophets or Hope of the States (R.I.P) owed to it as it was to listen to it in the first place. And if the likes of Pennie ex-Automatic thought they had the copyright on the role of mad keyboard player, they need to look at Iain Baker and think again.

Yes, time has not been kind to Jesus Jones. Edwards looks anorexic, Jerry De Borg looks like a miniature Gene Wilder and Baker has a frame now ill-suited to the bands mandatory white t-shirt. But the music - for all that Edwards apologises for his past excesses - has aged well. 'Who? Where? Why?' is a superb opening number, 'International Bright Young Thing' and 'Right Here, Right Now' could've been recorded at any time in the last five years and even later numbers such as 'Zeroes and Ones' have the crowd singing along. The climactic 'Info Freako' has, of course, been a staple for next to two decades, but is attacked like it is being played for the first time and the reaction is rapturous. I never thought I would say this, but Jesus Jones might just be one of the best live shows around.

British Sea Power

2008-11-04T23:17:00.002Z

There's something quite fitting about seeing British Sea Power in a setting such as the Roundhouse. Certainly the most inventive use that a disused railway shed has been put to, it seems a natural home for a band who recorded their last album in a disused water tower.

The set starts with a taped rendition of 'All In It', drifts into a live version of 'Men Together Today' backed by the London Bulgarian Choir and then really bursts into life with 'Apologies to Insect Life', 'Atom', 'Remember Me' and a subline rendition of 'Oh Larsen B'.

After that, the set loses it's way slightly. 'Waving Flags' is functional and there's an extended section where Hamilton takes lead vocals which is marred by the strange fact that he can't seem to hit any of the low notes. Indeed, for all of the rave reviews that 'Do You Like Rock Music?' received, it is the older songs which really set the place alight tonight. 'Carrion' and 'Fear of Drowning' receive the most rapturous receptions of the night.

As always with BSP, it is the encore which finds them at their very best. Hamilton finally finds form with a thunderous 'No Lucifer' before an even more extended than usual 'Lately' morphs into 'Rock in A', complete with a rampaging Ursine Ultra, Noble stagediving in a flying helmet and Hamilton parading a distinctly unamused Abi Fry around on his shoulders. There might still be soft spots in their set, but there's no denying the power of BSP.

Big Star

2008-11-04T22:59:00.002Z

How do you review a band which plays, on average, one live show every five years or so. Do you do so on the basis of past glories? Do you make allowances for the fact that practically an entire generation has grown up since Alex Chilton last did a proper tour? Hell, no, you write about what a remarkably good time you had. Because, despite the handicaps which they give themselves, Big Star are well worth the entrance fee.

The most surprising thing is just how democratic the band is. Chilton might be the star name, Jody Stephens might be the only original member left, but vocal duties are pretty evenly spread around and Jon Auer certainly takes most of the solos. 'September Gurls' and 'Back of a Car' are, of course, highlights, but the few numbers from 2005 album 'In Space' more than hold there own. Moreover, there's some classic rock and roll and even an attempt at classical music. A man of Ken Stringfellow's age and height probably shouldn't be wearing black nail varnish, but if that's the biggest fault it still adds up to one heck of a gig

Robyn Hitchcock

2008-11-04T21:58:00.002Z

If you had said, some thirty or so years ago, that one day Robyn Hitchcock would be doing a solo set at the Shepherds Bush Empire, accompanied only by his own guitar and harmonica, and a girl playing the saw, most people would've scoffed. But call it psychedelic punk, call it new wave, call it whatever you will, Hitchcock, the court jester of it all, is still going strong. His songs are as offbeat as ever, his voice still teetering between sublime and awful, but he has more charisma than a truckload of Dohertys and there's not one person who wants him to leave.

Reading Festival 2008

2008-08-27T16:00:00.004+01:00

This was an odd event, not just because of the number of bands who cancelled, or because of the strange weather which meant that the sound levels on the site had to be reduced, but because it was the first time I have tried to attend a gig with an 11 month old in tow. Which means that, for the first time, you get to read Cheese's views on the event, too.

Cage the Elephant

2008-08-27T15:50:00.003+01:00

Can someone explain this to me, please. For no obvious reason, Cage the Elephant singer Matt Schultz is running manically around the stage, dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts and a large tutu. Across his chest is written the legend 'No Pants Party'. If it wasn't for them being from Kentucky, you would think that this was the most blatant attempt to get a knicker shower ever.

Schultz is, in fact, almost the ideal frontman. He's entertaining whilst never detracting from the songs. Not that the songs are impressive in their own right. The band wear their musical influences on their sleeve, with recent single 'Ain't No Rest For the Wicked' borrowing heavily from Beck and other songs stealing from the Chili Peppers and even Scissor Sisters, whilst 'In One Ear' is delightfully silly. In terms of pure entertainment, one of the best acts of the weekend.

Cheese says: I was scared to start with and hugged my cuddly elephant very tightly, but I liked them by the end

The Music

2008-08-27T15:40:00.003+01:00

In the mid-afternoon sun, The Music get to play a gig which they probably couldn't have bought six months earlier. All of that changed with the success of single 'Safety in Numbers' and, after several troubled years, the band are back.

To be honest, this is a show which could've been performed by any number of other similar bands. There's nothing particularly distinguished about 'Take the Long Road and Walk It', 'The Truth Has No Words' or even 'Safety in Numbers' itself, but the Music have come here to entertain and they do just that, singer Robert Harvey stalking the stage like an angry but hyperactive toddler as guitarists Adam Nutter and Stuart Coleman grind out that relentless rhythm beside him. Now that they are back, the Music have every intention of staying.

Cheese says: Sorry, was busy eating during this one

Hadouken!

2008-08-27T15:30:00.004+01:00

Another year, but pretty much the same story? Well, to a certain extent, yes. There's not much different about their show or their sound - it is still all driving guitars, wailing keyboards and James Smith bouncing around like Tigger after the Ritalin has worn off. The difference is in attitude. Twelve months on and it is as if Hadouken! have won the battle for recognition and they know it. This means that there is more focus on the songs and less on trying to show how good they are. The whole show is smoother and more coherent, and Smith barely speaks to the crowd at all. Of course, having songs as good as 'Crank It Up' and 'Leap of Faith' (the latter almost unrecognisable from the radio friendly version), but you sense that this is a band who have decided that they are here to stay.

Cheese says: I love Hadouken! Forget glowsticks, squeaky giraffes are the things to shake at one of their shows

Lightspeed Champion

2008-08-27T15:09:00.003+01:00

This shouldn't work, either. Lightspeed Champion is Dev Hynes. Who was 1/3 of Test Icicles. Who were as hopeless as their name. And part of his backing band is Mike Siddell, who was in Hope of the States, who screwed up their final Reading show two years ago. So why is this such simple, summery fun?

The quality of the music is, of course, important. Whether it is old songs like 'Dry Lips' and 'Galaxy of the Lost', or new ones such as 'Marlene', the standard of Hynes' writing is high. More than that, though, the sheer force of his personality pulls the gig through. The crowd are willing the man in the furry hat to succeed and they react raucously to the Star Wars medley which ends the show.

Cheese says: A nice gentle way to start the day. I spent my time smiling and saying 'hello' to everyone around me

Alkaline Trio

2008-08-27T14:47:00.002+01:00

Someone, somewhere in the Festival Republic organisation, badly underestimated the appeal of Alkaline Trio. Despite the dubious attraction of Bullet For My Valentine playing next door, the Lock Up Tent still has a crowd at least ten deep trying to get in even as the band take the stage.

Despite being billed as Matt Skiba's band, the group is as much about bassist Dan Adriano as it is about the guitarist, as the two share lead vocals and take turns to banter with the crowd. The set draws heavily upon the acclaimed new album, 'Agony & Irony', but also features old favourites such as 'Mercy Me', 'Private Eye' and 'Crawl', with Skiba even praising the crowd for clapping along in time to 'Time to Waste'. All they need now is a bigger stage to display all of this on.

Cheese says: I've grown up with Alkaline Trio and they worked like a lullaby on me. Lovely.

Seasick Steve

2008-08-27T14:27:00.002+01:00

It is hard to know why it took the world so long to discover Steve Wold. He's everything it usually looks for in a musician - a character, a raconteur and he even comes with the bonus of being talented, too. Today we get stories, we get jokes at the expense of his drummer and, of course, we get his unique take on Mississippi blues music. Some of this comes from his forthcoming album, 'I Started Out With Nothin and I Still Got Most of it Left', but we also get old favourites such as 'Dog House Boogie' and it all adds up to a fun afternoon.

Cheese says: He was a funny old man who made me laugh when I saw him on the big television, but I was a bit tired and went for a little lie down whilst he was finishing

Los Campesinos!

2008-08-27T14:11:00.003+01:00

Has there ever, in the entire history of music, been an occasion when a band's set was delayed because of a problem with the sound levels on their xylophones? Assuming the answer to be 'no', Los Campesinos! made history before they even started.

When they do start, things are pretty ramshackle. 'Broken Heartbeats Sound Like Breakbeats' is all over the place and 'Don't Tell Me To Do The Math(s)' is scarcely better. After that, though, they settle down to turn in a storming performance. Gareth prowls the stage during 'Death to Los Campesinos!', which is no mean feat given that it is barely big enough for the seven of them. Sensibly, they keep the crowd onside by only playing one track from their mooted new album, 'We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed' whilst 'International Tweexcore Underground' gets a rare outing. They close with a typically raucous and exhausting 'Sweet Dreams, Sweet Cheeks' and everyone goes home tired and happy.

Cheese says: Oh yes! I had such a great time dancing and shaking my buggy to this lot.

The Mystery Jets

2008-08-27T13:49:00.003+01:00

I didn't intend seeing the Mystery Jets, but ended up doing so. Which pretty much sums up their entire career really - they're the sort of band you end up listening to even if you don't mean to. Not that this is a bad thing. They kick off with 'Hideaway' before inspiring an audience singalong to current single 'Half In Love With Elizabeth'. We Are Scientists' Keith Murray joins them for 'Diamonds in the Dark', but they don't really need that kind of assistance when they have an audience to provide vocals for songs like 'Young Love' and 'Two Doors Down'. After all the recent health scares over singer Blaine Harrison, it was definitely good to have them back.

Cheese says: They didn't upset me, but they didn't get my bottom shaking.

Santogold

2008-08-27T13:27:00.005+01:00

One of the most eagerly awaited sets of the weekend for some reason turns out to be one of the shortest, as Santogold rattles through nine songs in little more than 25 minutes. Bravely, she throws 'L.E.S. Artistes' in as the second number, but it scarcely matters as the frenetic pace keeps the crowd royally entertained through numbers such as 'I'm a Lady' and 'Creator'. The musical spectacle is enhanced by dancers, a DJ and a five piece backing band wearing grey shirts and pink bow ties. Without doubt, it was all over far too soon.

Cheese says: Not my favourite act of the weekend, but I had a good time

British Sea Power

2008-08-27T13:08:00.003+01:00

Credit British Sea Power for novel thinking. I doubt that anyone else has ever shamelessly used the Reading Festival to make a pitch for the Mercury Prize. Because that is exactly what BSP do here, playing a set that is almost exclusively drawn from their Mercury-nominated album 'Do You Like Rock Music?'. In fact, only 'Carrion' is brought out to represent their two earlier releases.

Performing to a crowd bedecked with tree branches - an echo of the band's early stage sets - BSP kick off with 'All In It' before hammering into 'Atom' and 'Lights Out'. 'No Lucifer' and 'Waving Flags' produce mass singalongs and the whole set ends with the extended jam of 'Spirit of St Louis' - and with Yann and Hamilton doing handstands on stage.

Ultimately, it is all a little disappointing. It would have been interesting to see how a large festival crowd greeted songs like 'Remember Me', 'Fear of Drowning' or 'It Ended On an Oily Stage'.

Cheese says: I liked them and had fun shaking my rattle along to 'No Lucifer'

The Automatic

2008-08-27T12:48:00.003+01:00

Let's face it, the reason so many people are here to see The Automatic is that they want to see how they fare without eccentric keyboardist Pennie. The answer, it seems, is that they have decided to cover for the absence of the manic shouty one by getting louder and heavier. Which is ironic, given that Pennie left to - amongst other things - spend more time hanging out with Gallows.

New man Paul Mullen acquits himself well on the new songs, but there's definitely something lacking when they play the mandatory old songs 'Monster' and 'Raoul' and you wonder just how much of their back catalogue they are going to be able to rely upon when they come to play longer sets. More significantly, though, new songs such as 'Magazines' and 'It's a Fix' don't have anything which distinguishes them from a number of other, newer, bands out there - which is going to be a problem, no matter how fast and loud they play them.

Cheese says: I loved them so much, I bounced myself off my feet and bashed my face

Rage Against The Machine

2008-08-27T12:26:00.003+01:00

It would be very easy to get caught up in the hype surrounding the return of RATM. Having spent years holding themselves out as America's most political musicians (which Serj Tankian, at the very least, might have something to say about) it is hard to escape a slight feeling of unease at a reunion which owes more to money than the feeling that there is anything new for them to say. All of which means that, for all of the good points, what we really get tonight is RATM-by-numbers. We get the silent protest - in this case, standing, heads bowed, on stage wearing orange jumpsuits and with black hoods over their heads whilst an air raid siren plays. We get the controversial statement, as Zack de la Rocha explained his view that George W Bush should be tried for war crimes and called for Tony Blair to join him. And, of course, we get 'Killing in the Name' - which is what at least 50% of the crowd were here for anyway.

None of this is to deny the almost magical chemistry which exists between the four band members. Despite their differences, the act works with them together in a way in which it just doesn't when they are apart. De la Rocha as a solo artist was just a ranting polemicist. The others formed Audioslave with Chris Cornell and were, frankly, more boring than a wet Sunday listening to Radio 3. Put them all together and, suddenly, the ability of Tom Morello and Tim Commerford to counterpoint de la Rocha's raving by coaxing their guitars into making sounds they were surely never meant to becomes more than appealing.

There's no doubting that the musicianship here is exceptional. They don't take those hoods off for opener 'Bombtrack' and there aren't many bands who could play that well with little or no way to see their instruments. The problem, though, is that it all gets a little wearing after a time. There's very little light and shade in RATM's music and over an hour of being shouted at gets a bit wearing. With consumate showmanship they save 'Killing...' until the last song of the encore and, frankly, that is enough for almost everyone.

Cheese says: They took so long to come on stage (they were over 15 minutes late) that I dozed off. Glad I woke up in time to shout along with 'Killing in the Name', though.

Vampire Weekend

2008-08-27T12:14:00.003+01:00

Posh students slumming it in a Berkshire field? It's not likely to be anyone from Reading Uni, so it must be Vampire Weekend. Quite how such an enormous hotchpotch of musical influences tapped into the zeitgeist will probably never be understood, but the rapturous reception which greets opener 'Mansard Roof' indicates that this is one band who won't have to work to win over their audience this weekend. In fact, it is almost indecent that a band with only one album to their name should have so many good, crowd-pleasing, songs to their name, but the following salvo of 'Campus', 'Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa' and 'M79' not only has the entire tent on their feet, it has people running from outside to join in. Lead singer Ezra Koenig says very little at all during the set, but the broad grin he wears throughout betrays just how lucky he and the rest of the band feel to be here.

Cheese says: I wasn't sure about them at first, but that 'Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa' really got me shaking my bottom.

MGMT

2008-08-27T11:50:00.004+01:00

Hmmm. Given the slight suspicion of prog-rock tendencies which hangs over MGMT, was it really such a wise move for Andrew Vanwyngarden to take the stage dressed like a junior Rick Wakeman? This is the sort of idle thought that crosses your mind during a set which, frankly, seems to lose it's way during the middle five or six numbers. Opening with 'Electric Feel' gets the band off to a flying start, but then it all begins to sag like a bad 70s perm and there's no standout moment until they blast into 'Time to Pretend' at the end.

Cheese says: Seriously bouncy at the start, seriously bouncy at the end, boring in the middle - good job I had a bottle handy as I needed a drink

Ida Maria

2008-08-27T11:36:00.003+01:00

Well, from something not as good as expected to something far better. Ida Maria performs to a crowd somewhat smaller than you might expect for someone who has just had a number two single, but possibly a number of people made the mistake I did of thinking that she was a one-or-two trick pony. Far from it, because there is enough in the performance she gives here to think that she could have a very successful career indeed. 'Morning Light' is full of bouncy enthusiasm, like a new puppy; 'Louie' is an extended thrash on a par with it's better known namesake and 'Stella' is plain simple fun. Of course, she ends with 'Oh My God' and 'I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked' and the crowd go wild, but then they were always going to.

Swedish girls who wear bowler hats and sing about getting naked will never be everyone's cup of tea, but frankly the problem is with them, not Ida Maria.

Cheese says: Bouncy, shouty music is always fine by me, so I loved her.

Thomas Tantrum

2008-08-27T11:28:00.003+01:00

I may be missing the point, but this isn't at all what I was expecting. Acting on numerous tip-offs, I headed for the new BBC Introducing stage to see a band I first heard about six months ago. But I was expecting to hear a loud, angry band fronted by a very hacked off Hayley Thomas. Instead, this is pure indie pop music with a hint of a calypso rhythm. I'd love to say something good about them, but frankly it all sounded a bit cold and uninspired.

Cheese says: So good that I threw my rattly caterpillar at them. Twice.

The Duke Spirit

2008-08-27T11:10:00.002+01:00

There are some bands it is always good to have around, and The Duke Spirit are one of them. There's no particular reason why their dark, blues-tinged sound should work on a bright sunny afternoon, but it not only does, it serves as an antidote to the pathetic tripe which preceded them. Not only does Liela Moss shimmer serenely in her gold dress, but the rest of the band sound tighter and more powerful than ever before.

The set draws heavily from new album 'Neptune', but loses nothing for it. A few old favourites, such as 'Love is an Unfamiliar Name' and 'Welcome to the Floor' are thrown in, but are robustly supported by newies such as 'Into the Fold', 'My Sunken Treasure' and new single 'The Step and the Walk'.

All in all, a great return from a band with much to offer.

Cheese says: Sorry, I was still asleep from the previous band. Whoopsie.

Be Your Own Pet

2008-08-27T11:01:00.004+01:00

Dear God this is rubbish. Not just ordinary rubbish, but rubbish on a scale so gargantuan it would need a landfill the size of Reading itself to contain it. Having announced that they were splitting up, the stench of contractual obligations being reluctantly fulfilled pervades the air. Heck, Jemima Pearl can't even be bothered to throw up on stage anymore. And attempting to get your drummer laid is not only tacky, it's dated - L7 auctioned theirs on stage at least a decade ago.

What we get, therefore, are frantic songs played by four people who really couldn't give a toss what they sound like and seem to just want to get the whole sordid business over with and go their different ways. Which does mean that we get 18 songs in a very short space of time, but not even old favourites such as 'Damn Damn Leash' and 'Bunk Trunk Skunk' stand out from the whole horrible mess.

Cheese says: So boring I fell asleep, despite only having had a nap an hour or so earlier

Blood Red Shoes

2008-08-27T09:37:00.004+01:00

The third time I have seen Blood Red Shoes and the second time that there has been a vast improvement in their performance from the last time. What's different? Mostly, that they seem to have calmed down a little bit. It is odd that this has made them a better band, when one of the things which is so attractive about them is their frenetic energy. The plus side of this, though, is that the music sounds clearer and you can actually understand what Laura-Mary is singing.

The new approach certainly works. They draw one of the biggest crowds of the weekend to the NME/Radio 1 stage and are greeted rapturously. Steven apologises for having almost lost his voice, but you really cannot tell. With only half an hour to fill, they stick to the tried and trusted and only throw in one new song, but frankly it doesn't matter when you have songs as good as 'I Wish I Was Someone Better' and 'Its Getting Boring By The Sea'.

Cheese says: Wow! I love their music. I couldn't stop bouncing and was exhausted by the end.

Pete & The Pirates

2008-08-27T08:31:00.004+01:00

Rarely, if ever, can Reading have had two of it's own bands playing on the opening day of the Festival it lends it's name to. Whilst Does It Offend You, Yeah? may have garnered all of the publicity over the past twelve months, if anything the stock of Pete & The Pirates has risen higher and faster during that time. Unknown last August, they opened the Festival on the (then) Carling Stage. Now they find themselves on the NME/Radio 1 stage and confronted with the biggest crowd of their lives. They do not disappoint and the crowd go justifiably wild for the likes of 'Little Death' and 'Mr Understanding'.

Cheese says: I had been napping on the way over, so I was a bit disorientated and didn't really get into them until the very end. Pirates are always cool, though.

Bruce Springsteen

2008-06-17T22:46:00.002+01:00

Let's not be snobby about this. With some concerts, you get exactly what you pay for. For example, if you go and see Coldplay, you get four incredibly dull people boring the pants off everyone whilst being barely able to play their instruments. If you go and see Radiohead, you get five incredibly dull people boring the pants off everyone whilst deliberately trying not to play their instruments. And if you go and see Muse...well, you get the idea.

It follows that if you have gone to a Bruce Springsteen concert expecting pyrotechnics, surprise guests or huge light shows, you are going to be very disappointed indeed. If, however, you have gone along expecting consummate showmanship, high levels of energy, sublime musicianship and three hours of sing-along songs, then he really is The Boss.

Not that there is any ego with this man. He's in charge and everyone knows it, but he wears it lightly. There isn't a single reference to 'me' in the whole evening. In fact, he only ever refers to 'The E Street Band', never 'my band'. It is similar to the relationship a conductor has with his orchestra, as if there is a mutual understanding that none of them could do this without the others.

Forty years in the music business might not have changed the act much, but they have taught Springsteen a thing or two about working an audience. We begin tonight with 'From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come)', a song he wrote for Welsh new waver Dave Edmunds back in the early '80s. On a couple of occasions he dives into the audience to collect placards with requests on them. Two of those requests are even played. One of these, 'Blinded By The Light', leads to a hilarious story about the late (and very much missed) E Street Band organist Danny Federici - and an even more hilarious one as Steve Van Zandt (yes, him off The Sopranos) frantically tries to work out which song he is leading up to.

Surprises? There aren't any, really. It's amazing that Springsteen remains as fit and in as good voice, even after all these years. There's the odd song where the arrangement is slightly different, but nothing too exciting. What is good to see, though, is how well new songs like 'Gypsy Biker' and 'Long Walk Home' stand up against the older numbers.

Sadly, though, it is the niggling little things that remain most fixed in the memory. The inordinate wait for the band to come on stage - if you are going to play without a support act, don't open the gates three hours before you show up. The sound, which was bad even by stadium standards; for the first few numbers Gary Tallent's bass was distorting so badly, it was hard to hear anything else. The fact that Clarence Clemons had almost nothing to do for 75% of the set, before finally being allowed to let rip in the encore. And I am still not sure what Soozie Tyrrell is for, other than to create an even number of people on each side of the stage.

Great fun, then, but far too many shortcomings.

Cherry Suico

2008-04-07T22:51:00.003+01:00

Everything about Cherry Suico is unobtrusive. She and her backing band, Crazy 88, take the stage without most people noticing. On the low stage, the diminutive singer can hardly be seen by most of the audience. And her music is so gentle, so placid, that at times you wonder if she is there at all.

That is not to say that the set is one-paced. Far from it. When the band decide to pick up the tempo, they make like a modern day Committments. The problem then is that Ms Suico's voice doesn't follow suit. You long for her to open her lungs and really go for it, but she doesn't - whether because she won't or she can't, only she can say. It seems strange to recommend that someone with a voice as good as this sees a vocal coach, but this is exactly what Cherry Suico needs. The world already has one Sade too many.

Big Hand

2008-04-07T22:20:00.002+01:00

At a time when the Dead 60's have just split up, Madness have reduced themselves to a sullen parody of themselves and no-one seems to really care about it any more anyway, it takes a brave band to go anywhere near the mantle of ska, let alone pick it up and drape themselves in it as completely as Edinburgh's Big Hand do.

The difference is that this is a band which doesn't take themselves too seriously. This is ska, but it is the type popularised by the likes of Bad Manners. Fun ska. Trumpeter Phil Ramsey appears to be the bastard lovechild of Alex Pennie (late of The Automatic) and Gallows' Frank Carter, ripped to the tits on tartrazine. Bass player Luke Martin throws every comedy guitarist shape in the book and adds a few of his own. It's not many groups where the lead singer - in this case guitarist Tim Lomas - is the quiet man of the band.

To some extent, this is the only flaw with tonight's performance. Lomas' vocals are too thin and reedy for the energy of the music. Everything fits much better when, as on songs like 'Light a Fire', drummer Paul Skelding takes over vocal duties. And the last successful band with a singing drummer were...er...Genesis?

The important thing tonight, though, is not that the stage is too small, that the ceiling is too low or that the singer is having a bit of an off night. It is that the set is too short. Just five numbers and they are off. You should, of course, always leave your audience wanting more

Seamus McLoughlin

2008-04-07T21:54:00.003+01:00

Ask yourself this question: "Does the world need another James Blunt?"
Alternatively, ask yourself this other question: "Does the world need another David Gray?"
If the answer to either of these questions is 'yes', then Seamus McLoughlin has it made. The songs are pleasant and undemanding. Lyrically, he's far and away the most accomplished performer tonight, whilst the music the perfect synthesis of the former's acoustic strumming and the latter's slightly rockier pretensions. There's even a tinge of David Byrne in there, for those who prefer their music a little more leftfield.

The problem is that it all becomes a little predictable after a time. A song called 'Out of the Water' takes such a familiar course that I find myself predicting what is going to happen well in advance of the actual chord changes. Which is, to be honest, annoying.

That said, there's a place for people who just want to write tuneful, undemanding songs. I find Blunt tedious and pointless and Gray just intensely irritating. McLoughlin is neither of these and if his only aspiration is to be a radio friendly unit shifter then good luck to him.

Andy J Gallagher

2008-04-07T21:40:00.002+01:00

This is tricky. There's something very likeable about Andy J Gallagher, but yet something very ephemeral, too. He has songs which bounce along in that slightly punky, don't-really-care-if-you-like-this-or-not, way beloved of the likes of the Holloways and Bromhead's Jacket. The problem is that, try as they might, they just won't stick in your head. Which is a problem in a venue as small as The Fly, where there is very little room for a band do to more than stand and play, and even less room for the audience to do more than sway slightly on the spot.
Deprived of the chance to give the songs the power they deserve, Gallagher ends up falling between two stools. He's not giving us anything we've not seen or heard before, but he's no chance to prove what he could be doing differently.

The Cure

2008-03-25T16:16:00.001Z

This review very nearly didn’t appear here. Wembley Arena, that cavernous carbuncle of a concert venue, holds well over 50 live shows a year, yet their security staff are so monstrously inept that they cannot divide the paying public into those with standing tickets and those with seating ones without making such a tremendous hash of it that The Cure come on stage when about 30% of the audience are still trying to get in. Never having missed the start of a gig by anything other than design, I would’ve been very unhappy to have done so merely because of these nincompoops, who even had the audacity to complain of being cold even though they weren’t the ones stood outside as the thermometer hovered around zero.

It is hard to find something new to say about The Cure. They’ve been going for 32 years, after all. The black clothes, the big hair, the OTT make-up (Porl Thompson is rocking the ‘Uncle Fester’ look tonight), Robert Smith’s weight, they’re all jokes which have been done to death. The fact remains, though, that there are very few bands around today who will play for well over three hours with barely a pause for breath (You might think ‘Springsteen’ at this point, but there’s no filling time with rambling stories in this set, in fact Smith even claims not to be able to speak English at one point). Moreover, Cure shows have taken on a Rocky Horror-esque life of their own. Not only do the audience dress up for the occasion, they clap along to the bass part of ‘A Forest’, sing the melody to ‘Play For Today’ and generally have far more fun than you would expect from a warehouse full of Goths.

In total, there are 41 songs played tonight. Three of them are brand new. ‘Please Project’ and ‘Freak Show’ are lighter and more carefree than their recent works (Smith even does a little dance on the latter) and represent a trip back in time to the Cure of ‘High’ and ‘Friday I’m In Love’. ‘The Boy I Never Knew’, on the other hand, is an insubstantial thing, where nothing much happens and even fewer people care. All three can be expected to appear on the new album which the band have allegedly been recording with Ross Robertson – quite what he will do to them is anyone’s guess.

The other 38 numbers are a trip through the a back catalogue so vast, it is only with hindsight that you realise how much you didn’t hear. But then again, how can you complain that there was no ‘Fascination Street’, no ‘The Figurehead’ or no ‘Pictures Of You’ when you have had more than three dozen other classics, including frenetic, punky thrashes through ‘Grinding Halt’, ’10.15 Saturday Night’ and ‘Killing An Arab’ in an attempt to fit as many songs as possible in before the curfew?

Smashing Pumpkins

2007-08-29T22:22:00.000+01:00

And so to the moment most people never thought that they would see - the return of Smashing Pumpkins. Perhaps, to the purist, not the ideal way to see them, with no James Iha and no D'Arcy Wretzky. On the other hand, it has the advantage that, beyond dispute, this is Corgan's show and he and only he can be faulted if something goes wrong.

Not, of course, that indie rock's most legendary egomaniac would see it like that. He must be happy tonight, though, because he's smiling. Heck, he even jokes with the crowd, describing first English and then American girls as sluts, then suggesting that the benefit of being 'alternative' is that you can say things like that. He's not wrong and a hugely partisan crowd lap it up.

I guess there were three things that were inevitable about this show. The first is that there would be a fair smattering of songs from new album "Zeitgeist", and indeed there are, including drumthumping recent single "Tarantula". The second is that Billy would, at some point, indulge in some frenetic fretvvanking and, like a teenager alone in a bedroom, he does, with messy frequency. And the third? Well, that he wouldn't play half the songs that you wanted him to - and he pretty well doesn't.

It would be churlish to complain, though. We still get "Stand Inside Your Love", a "Bullet With Butterfly Wings" that includes an audience singalong that even Corgan is forced to concede is "not bad at all". There's a sublime, solo, acoustic rendition of "1979", an elegant "Tonight, Tonight" and the whole thing rounds off in the perfect way with "Cherub Rock". I am sated.

Nine Inch Nails

2007-08-29T22:09:00.000+01:00

And so to the last two acts of the day. What better, as the sun goes down and the liver starts to flag, than a good dose of old fashioned industrial rock. And Uncle Trent doesn't disappoint us, blasting us back into life with classics such as "March Of The Pigs" and "Head Like A Hole", intermingled with a selection of tracks from new album "Year Zero" - possibly the most mainstream one they have made, although that isn't hard where NIN are concerned.

Reznor himself doesn't say a lot, pausing occasionally to thank the audience, perhaps reasoning that more talking means less time for abusing guitars and electronic implements, but perhaps also conscious of not repeating his poorly-timed attack on Billy Corgan.

The set ends, of course, with "Hurt" - but done stylishly. As "Head Like A Hole" reaches its climax in an orgy of feedback and instrument trashing, members of the audience start to drift away. They miss the lights dimming until there is just one spot focused on Reznor, alone at a keyboard. It is the perfect ending to a nearly perfect show.

CSS

2007-08-29T22:02:00.000+01:00

Electing to see a big chunk of Gallows makes it absolutely impossible to get inside the crammed tent where CSS are playing. But you don't need to know what happens. Great music, an excitable and charismatic performance from Lovefoxx and, yes, she still sings "Alala" from the middle of the moshpit.

Gallows

2007-08-29T21:43:00.000+01:00

Most of the time, the schedulers at these festivals get it right. But whoever arranged for Gallows, CSS and Nine Inch Nails to be on at the same time as one another deserves locking in a room with Frank Carter, Trent Reznor and Lovefoxx at their angriest. Not that you need to get that close to Gallows to hear them. The self-titled world's loudest band can be heard loud and clear from a long way away, despite apparently turning the volume down.

One of the great things about Gallows, as a 17th century criminal never said, is that they have a fine sense of what punk is actually about. Their sense of history means that they know that the best and most successful punk bands of the 70s had a certain degree of musicality. Don't believe me? Go listen to the Pistols, the Damned, the Banshees or any other of the punk bands whose reputation endures today, then compare them to the bands who have rarely been heard of since. You see what I mean? Rhythm and melody - exactly what Gallows have in spades.

So, whilst it's scary to think that Carter might be getting this worked up, despite not taking anything stronger than a nice cup of tea, it is important to remember that the other four band members are just as vital as him. Without the understanding between them, the likes of "Abandon Ship" and "Will Someone Shoot That F*cking Snake" would not be the classics that they are here.

Charlotte Hatherley

2007-08-29T21:14:00.000+01:00

Hmm. Now then, what does this remind me of? Charlotte Hatherley, plus three male musicians and a very lazy analogy with her former band - you know, the ones that headlined the second stage the other night.

Actually, it isn't that lazy an analogy. You see, if the Ash boys were missing Charlotte's sense of melody, well, Charlotte's missing having another songwriter or two to bounce off of. That's the peril of deciding to go solo. Suddenly, it is just you, your ideas and you stand or fall by what you make of them. There's nothing particularly bad about her own material, but it is all a bit samey. In fact, it is something of a relief when she throws in a cover of XTC's "This Is Pop"*, just for the difference in sound.

(*thanks to Belle for spotting this for me)

Lostprophets

2007-08-29T21:07:00.000+01:00

As befits their recent Kerrang award for Best British Band, Lostprophets get the top British billing on what is the traditional rock evening at Reading. For some reason, though, they seem strangely muted. Maybe they are already used to being higher up the bill than this. Even so, in their tenth year, you would expect Ian Watkins & Co to put in more than they do here. Despite the frenetic "4:AM Forever" and the classic "Last Train Home", you got the distinct feeling that they would rather have been somewhere else.

Fall Out Boy

2007-08-29T21:00:00.000+01:00

I'm still bemused as to why Fall Out Boy are so popular. They've not written a half decent song since "Sugar, We're Going Down" and in Patrick Stump they have a frontman with even less charisma than his surname.

Such is Pete Wentz's ego that he'll never admit that FOB are a busted flush, but the fact that they play no fewer than four cover versions this evening suggests that even they know that their back catalogue isn't up to much. And if that wasn't enough to annoy their fans - and boy were they complaining - they chose tracks by the likes of Akon and Huey Lewis and the News. "The Power Of Love" as performed by shouty twentysomethings, anyone? Nope, didn't think so.

Maps

2007-08-29T20:51:00.000+01:00

After the frenetic efforts of Funeral For A Friend, it is almost a relief to escape into a cool tent and the gentle electronic melodies of Maps, the nom de chanson of James Chapman. Mercury nominated he may be, but this is just a little too much of a comedown.

It is partly because Chapman simply doesn't have enough interesting songs. He played the singles "It Will Find You" and "You Don't Know Her Name", but you'd be hard pushed to tell them apart. The other problem is that Chapman has all of the stage presence of a dead cod. Audience engagement is minimal and you get the feeling that most people are only here to get out of the sun.

Funeral For A Friend

2007-08-29T20:44:00.000+01:00

There is something about my deep dark sense of humour that is tickled by the thought that I'm seeing FFAF play on a huge stage on a bright and sunny afternoon. If it was ever inappropriate for a band, it is for this lot. Everything about them screams night-time in small, sweaty places, tiny arenas with condensation dripping from the low ceilings.

You can almost sense that the band themselves don't believe it. Technical problems seem to bedevil their set, but however hard they try, however partisan the crowd is, you can't feel the same way about "She Drove Me To Daytime Television" or "Juneau" at this time of day. Some bands just can't escape the dark side.

The Maccabees

2007-08-29T20:30:00.000+01:00

There are plenty of reasons to hate the Maccabees. That, had he not been encouraged by the band's lead guitarist Felix to do so, Jack Penate might never have made a record, is just one of them. That rhythm guitarist Hugo White for some reason thinks it is cool to be on stage in a hoodie is another. And this is before we even mention that, in Orlando, Hugo, Felix and Rupert, they have the least rock and roll names of any band ever.

None of which tells you anything about their music, or this show. One has to be fair and say that they have turned into very polished performers who have a finely tuned sense of how to build a show and work a crowd. Musically, most of their songs are still nothing special, yet they are certainly way below The Pigeon Detectives in the Skiver Scale of Bands Who Should Be ASBO'd From Ever Making Another Record. In fact, some of their songs display glimpses of rare songwriting talent. "Precious Time" and "About Your Dress" are comparable to anything that, say, The Killers did at the same stage in their careers. And I defy any other band to write a song about a leisure centre - "Latchmere" - and make it sound like a love song.

Operator Please

2007-08-29T19:54:00.001+01:00

How scary is this? When my wife first came to Reading in 1991, none of Operator Please had been born. This doesn't mean that the relative youth of Amandah Wilkinson and her cohorts should count against them. They may not be old enough to buy a drink here, but that doesn't mean they can't reduce the Carling tent to a sweaty gurgling mass of happiness, thanks to wildly infectious numbers such as "Just A Song About Ping Pong" - already a big hit in their native Australia. Whether they will live up to Perez Hilton billing them as the ubiquitous 'next big thing', but this is a fine start.

New Young Pony Club

2007-08-29T19:44:00.001+01:00

I am now going to do something very brave indeed. I am going to criticise a woman's clothing. Specifically, I'm going to criticise that of Tahita Bulmer, NYPC's tiny and engaging frontwoman. I have no problem with what she was wearing - long white t-shirt, white mini-skirt - but had she realised that she was going to be wearing it on a stage? I'll not go into all of the gory details; suffice to say that some teenage boys in the front rows got a view which made them very happy indeed.

All of which somewhat detracted from the music of NYPC, which can best be described as being CSS at a slightly slower pace. There's nothing particularly new or exciting about what they do, it is undemanding and perfect for a hot summer afternoon. "Ice Cream" closes the set today and is greeted with no small amount of rapture, but in fact "The Bomb" and "Get Lucky" are far better songs and slightly wasted by coming early on in the set.

One other interesting fact. Despite being the current darlings of the music press, NYPC pull in a smaller crowd than the much-maligned Hadouken! It's nice to know that not everyone believes what they read in the papers.

Hadouken!

2007-08-29T19:43:00.001+01:00

You can almost write the headlines now: “Hadouken! In ‘Not Rubbish’ Shock”. If one band has polarised the music press over the past twelve months, it is this lot. Treated to their wares on disc, they become the band you love to hate, a simple question of whether you can stand their melding of rock and rap and, if so, for how long. It seems that it is acceptable for the likes of Linkin Park to nick from the streets of LA, but unacceptable for James Smith and co to take the grime out of London.

On the other hand, it has to be said that Hadouken! are a much better act when Smith sings, rather than rapping. He can get away with it on occasion, but even this convert would have to admit that a full 40 minutes of it would be very wearing. Indeed, sub-Streets numbers like “Tuning In” already sound tired. Instead, it is the new songs like “Declaration” that really stand out, both because Smith has a surprisingly good voice and because they retain all of the energy and enthusiasm of the old numbers, nothing being sacrificed in the move forward. I am, it must be said, pleasantly surprised.

Pull Tiger Tail

2007-08-29T19:42:00.000+01:00

Another band which I last reviewed only three months ago and another demonstration of how much things can change in that short time. In the case of Pull Tiger Tail, the significant difference between now and May is that they simply seem to have calmed down a bit. Back then, they were all over the place. Cues were missed (or, at best, barely reached) and everything seemed to be geared to the style of the performance rather than the content of it.

Today, things are different. Whether it is the earliness of the hour, the effects of a day off or whatever, this is a much better show. Songs which previously skittered off into chaotic nothingness are now tight and controlled. Recent single “Hurricanes” is simply beautiful, whilst “Mr 100%” and “Let’s Lightning” really do sound like classics in the making. Top marks to Marcus, Davo and Jack for working out where they were going wrong and putting it right. Now all they need to do is to sort out the execrable production that has marred their recent releases…

Late Of The Pier

2007-08-29T19:40:00.000+01:00

It’s a strange malaise, this one. If you give a young man a keyboard, why does he want to turn into Pennie Automatic? The number of Pennie impersonators swells daily, all of them trying – and failing – to take over the crown of indie’s favourite manic munchkin.

LOTP have their own imitator in Red Dog Consuela. He’s possibly the least impressive of the lot, appearing to have little actual musical ability above and beyond being able to fire off samples at the correct moment, but his manic dancing has a joy all of it’s own, a Bez for the modern generation.

Except that he is more than just that. He’s a very important part of this band’s sound. Without him, this would be a very ordinary band. With him, they become something special. Weird noises filter through a sound which is at the gentle, almost poppy, end of indie rave. Singer/guitarist Samuel Dust at plays a piece of wooden fencing on the brilliantly named single “The Bears Are Coming” – a song which also features a sound so insane, it can only be the noise of Sweep having an orgasm. That moment alone makes this one of my favourite shows of the weekend.

Red Hot Chili Peppers

2007-08-29T19:39:00.000+01:00

Draw closer, children, because I am going to say something so thoroughly heretical that you won’t believe your ears. I can assure you that it is true, though. You see, as a live band, Red Hot Chili Peppers simply aren’t much good.

At this point, some of you will think that I am being unduly harsh and that I ought to mention the sound problems which bedevilled this set, and so I should. What happened was that, after an extended jam by Flea, Chad Smith and John Frusciante, Anthony Keidis came onstage, launched into “Don’t Stop”, jumped on a cable and accidentally cut the sound to his own microphone. This caused confusion for the rest of the band, a certain amount of booing from the audience, and the sound to become damped and unbalanced.

For about four songs.

The thing is, for the rest of the two hour set, the sound was exactly as it should have been. Which only served to highlight the two main problems with the Chilis as a live act. The first of these is the one which has bedevilled at least half of their studio albums as well – too much Flea. We all know that you can play bass, mate, but why have you not learned that bass solos, or indeed anything which focuses mainly on you, is incredibly boring for anyone but you?

The second is the bigger problem, though. Whisper it very softly indeed, but Keidis just isn’t that good a singer. There’s no range or depth to his voice at all, let alone projection. That bit in “Dani California” where he roars “Califooooooooooorniaaaaaaaa rest in peace”? Doesn’t happen live. He’s in tune and that’s about the best you can say.

All of which makes for a rather dull couple of hours. So dull, in fact, that a friend sent me a text saying “Yawn”. He was in the mosh pit at the time.

The Arcade Fire

2007-08-29T19:37:00.000+01:00

This is all rather sad. A couple of years ago, the Arcade Fire were the band flying higher than any other. Their debut album, “Funeral”, had garnered the sort of critical acclaim even the likes of Muse can only dream of, Win Butler and Regine Chassagne were the new golden couple of rock and everyone who mattered was drooling over their eccentric live performances.

Now, not only has second album “Neon Bible” proved to be a bit of a damp squib, but rumours are rife that the band will split after this tour. In which case, it saddens me to say that, if this really is their penultimate UK show, it is a little bit disappointing.

Part of that disappointment is, I am sure, due to the expectation. After all, when you have been told several hundred times that you have to see a particular act, you anticipate something a bit special. Another part of it may, indeed, be a sense of ennui on the part of the performers, because this show seems to lack some of the fabled energy of a classic Arctic Fire set. Yes, we get the odd bit of random behaviour. Certainly instruments get swapped between the band members with rare abandon. And there can be no doubt that Butler is prepared to suffer for his art – witness the strapping on his hands needed to endure the mandolin strumming on “Keep The Car Running”.

The simple fact is, though, that the songs from the new album cannot stand up to those from the first one. For every “Neighborhood #2 (Laika)” or “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” there’s a “No Cars Go” or “Black Mirror” simply struggling to keep up. Indeed, the fact that they end with a run of four songs from “Funeral”, including the superb closing couplet of “Rebellion (Lies)” and “Wake Up” indicates that, just maybe, this is a band who don’t believe they can move on any more.

The Twang

2007-08-29T00:00:00.000+01:00

You have to feel slightly sorry for the Twang. Any band who are lauded by the NME must surely know that it is only a matter of time before the same magazine is shouting even more loudly about how rubbish they are. Not many go from one state to the other within a matter of days, but this is exactly what happened to the Twang earlier this year. One week they were being praised for their attitude and energetic live shows, the next they were being kicked into the gutter for turning in a debut album that was merely thought to be passable.

Let it be said at the outset, though, that this is no sympathy review. The Twang are a young band with a limited range of material, not all of it terribly good. What they do have, though, are a number of very good songs and they ally this to an ability to manipulate an audience which belies their experience. In fact, there is something almost charming about singer Phil Etheridge's embarrassment when he introduces the wrong song. Any radio listener will be familiar with debut single "Wide Awake" and current single "Two Lovers" demonstrates their more tender side, but it is songs like "Push The Ghost" and "Ice Creame Sundae" which truly demonstrate the breadth of their range. Maybe it doesn't translate well to record, but it doesn't mean that the latent talent isn't there. Don't write the Twang off just yet, there's far more to them than the music press would have you believe.

Dinosaur Jr

2007-08-28T23:46:00.000+01:00

Why are Dinosaur Jr playing in a tent at tea time? This is history coming alive. This should be out there, on the biggest stage possible, for everyone to see. Cobain is dead, Tad are no more, Pixies are on a lifetime reunion tour, only Dinosaur Jr, only J, Lou and Murph, are still out there making new music and putting on scintillating live shows like this one. How can you say that you will die happy if you have never heard them play "Freakscene" live, or even the greatest cover version ever, "Just Like Heaven"? How?

Admittedly, there's an element of age and experience to all this. Time has mellowed them, there's no onstage fighting anymore (Lou Barlow even makes a joke of it at one point) and they avoid the more difficult, atonal, feedback laden music of their early years. J's impressive grey mane at times makes him look like a guitar playing Fraggle, but that is the only sign of aging. History tells us that this reunion won't last long, so I ask again - how?

The Pigeon Detectives

2007-08-28T23:36:00.000+01:00

WHAT. IS. THE. FUCKING. POINT. OF. THIS?

Rarely have a band made me so angry as the Pigeon Detectives. They are boring, derivative, unoriginal, talentless and generally hopeless. They try and ultimately fail to make up for these manifest disadvantages by charging about the stage like a small child in a temper tantrum. They have one song, which they repeat monotonously for 40 minutes, to the point where you want to rip off your own ears and force them around the ever open mouth of supremely annoying frontman Matt Bowman.

I'm not going to write any more. I don't want this lot to have the oxygen of publicity. In fact, I don't even want them to have the oxygen of oxygen.

The Young Knives

2007-08-28T23:26:00.000+01:00

Only one thing stops the Young Knives' "Weekends And Bleak Days (Hot Summer)" from being the most perfect moment of the entire weekend, and that's the fact that they are playing it in a tent. This isn't such a bad thing, as it means we all get to swelter nicely on a day so warm that even Henry and House Of Lords have discarded their trademark knitted tank tops, but no-one gets sunburnt as we are royally entertained by a set which is part new numbers, part old standards. After all, not many bands can boast a debut album containing four classic singles and even fewer would have the confidence to toss two of them off withing the first ten minutes. But "The Decision" and "Here Comes The Rumour Mill" (arguably their best track of all) are duly dispatched and this leaves us to enjoy new numbers such as "Terra Firma" and "Counters", all of which are of equally high standard. By the time we reach "She's Attracted To", everyone is hot, sweaty, dehydrated and exhilarated. You wouldn't want it any other way.

Nine Black Alps

2007-08-28T23:18:00.000+01:00

Two years ago, 9BA were the rising stars of indie rock. They released an epic, slow burning, album named "Everything Is", and then vanished. Few thought they would be heard of again, but now they are back, playing a mid-afternoon set on an inappropriately sunny day and, hell, they are way better than they were before.

From the opening bars of "Just Friends" to the dying embers of "Shot Down", we are taken on a rollercoaster ride of emotions, into which new tracks such as "Burn Faster" and "Heavier Than Water" slip seamlessly and amid which "Unsatisfied" provides a stunning highlight. A truly classic festival moment.

Good Shoes

2007-08-28T23:11:00.000+01:00

Arguably the most partisan crowd of the weekend is to be found in front of the Radio 1/NME stage. It is difficult to believe that Good Shoes can have coverted any new fans this afternoon, because everyone in there seems to be a devotee already.

It is easy to understand why. Good Shoes play pleasant, undemanding indie of a type which has also given careers to Mumm-Ra, The Dykeenies and even GoodBooks. Of course, they are the only band of their type from Morden, so they have a song called "Morden", just to make sure that you know who you are watching. But there is something undeniably appealing in such a no frills approach and set closer "All In My Head" is a sharp and punchy number far better than many things that will be heard on this stage over the course of the weekend.

Eagles Of Death Metal

2007-08-28T23:00:00.000+01:00

There are some things you can get away with saying to a festival crowd and some things you can't. And there are some things which you might be able to get away with, depending upon who you are. To this extent, and for possibly the first time in their short career, E0fDM become victims of their own success, for such has been the hype around Josh Homme's third band that, when they say that this is the biggest crowd they have ever played, not a single person believes them.

Not, of course, that Homme is here. He's always been content to leave the live element of EofDM to his long-time friend and collaborator Jesse Hughes. Which means that, in fact, all that Hughes' announcement does is draw attention to the fact that Homme isn't here. Which, for most of the crowd, is a bit like going to see Motorhead and finding that Lemmy isn't playing. Try as they might, Hughes and co cannot make an impression on the crowd, not helped by the fact that they're peddling some pretty indifferent songs (if English girls were as anodyne as the song of that name, the entire race would die out) and that Hughes has almost not stage presence whatsoever. Avoid.

Does It Offend You, Yeah?

2007-08-28T22:50:00.000+01:00

DIOYY? are a four piece who describe themselves as sounding like an arcade machine thrown into a lake, or a ZX Spectrum in a prison shower. Although I'm wondering how they know what these things sound like, I have to concede that they are probably not wrong. A combination of thudding drums, wailing keyboards, guitar, bass and a cynically abused vocoder, they respond well to the dubious task of warming up the dance tent on a Saturday lunchtime. New single "Let's Make Out" thunders across several hundred hangovers and provokes dancing, not wincing. And you have to admire any band with the balls to call a song "We Are Rockstars" before they've even grazed the Top 40.

Ash

2007-08-28T22:28:00.000+01:00

Seeing Ash in their post-Charlotte incarnation is like taking a trip back in time. Almost ten years, in fact. Which is not necessarily a good thing. Charlotte Hatherley joined the band when they were in crisis. Album "Nu-Clear Sounds" had failed to build upon the fun and youthful enthusiasm of "1977", fans were restless at the change to a new, less conventional sound and their record company were distinctly unimpressed. Enter Charlotte to give the band not only a focal point for teenage boys everywhere, but a sense of melody, some light and shade in their otherwise thrashy sound.

So, without Charlotte, guess what is missing? Come on, do I need to draw a diagram? Set opener "Lose Control" could be any Ash song from their first 5 years, whilst "Burn Baby Burn", for so long a highlight of any Ash show, becomes a stripped down dirge which even an audience singalong cannot save. Full credit to Tim, Mark and Rick for setting off back out on their own again, but they are going to have to work hard at putting the joie de vivre back into their music if they are to retain the fans they have made in the last few years. It'll sicken you to know this, but they are still only 30, which means there is still hope that they can make this work.

Brand New

2007-08-28T22:23:00.001+01:00

Please, please, please tell me what the point of this fucking awful pustule on the face of modern rock is? There is nothing new, original or indeed talented in what they do. Playing loud thrashy guitar music and shouting over the top of it is SO 1980s that it beggars belief that anyone is trying to do it now. And they dress like charity shop rejects.

No-one ever did this music better than Napalm Death and even they went bankrupt. Brand New? More like Old Crap.