2000 trees pitshots 2017

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2000 TREES 2017 UPCOTE FARM

the russians

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Along with its weirdy beardy sister ArcTanGent, 2000 Trees is now cemented firmly in the hearts and minds of anyone with a proper interest in proper music as the best festival there is. And rightly so. This year’s line up is as diverse and challenging as ever, but there are just so many great acts on the bill. Which obviously means, with the best will in the world, there will be infuriating clashes and some bands, including particular personal favourites (Gnarwolves, Brutus, DPU et al) will sadly have to remain unwatched. Over the next few pages you’ll find a personal ramble punctuated with pissed up iPhone generated images. Not slick & snazzy rock photographer pristine images (There are so many good ones of those around already). Earthy, honest, a bit shit, but all shot from the pit in various stages of inebriation. The bands I’ve chosen to blurb about are generally ones I like or want to see, so unlike many write-ups, the marks out of ten all look unrepresentatively high. Truth is, I only want to see bands I like and think it’s unhelpful to watch bands that I think suck and give them shit ratings. I am not a critic. Just a bloke who’s in love with live music. Just so you know. So, let’s get on with it...

2000 TREES 2017

BY BWOOOAR

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GRUMBLE BEE THE CAVE

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Kicking off the whole fest is the obscenely talented tyro Jack Bennett badged up as Grumble Bee. He has with him, an equally obscenely talented rhythm section of Zach Phelps and Callum Connell. Despite early sound imperfections and Connell feeling less than chipper, the trio stride through a remarkable and highly energetic set showcasing Bennett’s small but perfectly formed anthology. And it is bloomin’ marvellous. Maturing and meshing with every performance, there’s enough looseness and apparent improvisation not to be merely a slavish live play-through but enough tightness not to just be a rambling jam session among best mateys. A truly fabulous way to kick off what promises to be a fabulous weekend. Oh, and he’s one of the nicest guys in the world too! Don’t you just hate the bugger?

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oh my days

AYS EVUEMD BELELA IO X TH

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I first saw Bellevue Days supporting the amazing

joy. The new found confidence resonates through

Press To Meco. I wasn’t truly overwhelmed to be

a fizzing show laced with melody, harmony, mathy

honest. They looked nervous, timid and timerous.

cadenzas and oft exposed, honest and fragile

Probably unsurprising performance anxiety given

subtlety. They may not be as intricate or as technically

the intimidating Press To Meco dick swinging menacingly

jaw-dropping as the likes of Delta Sleep, TTNG or

in the adjacent urinal. But this afternoon, there’s an

the aforementioned Press To Meco, but they are

abundance of whelm. Unrecognisably so. There’s

definitely climbing up the same alternative tree.

swagger, sass, passion and, probably more importantly,

Good tunes, good humour, good times. Good to see.

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Freaks Like Us

No Words Of Wisdom Half Gone

Keep It On The Inside Insecurity Guard Ring The Bells Set Me on Fire and Feed Me to the Wolves

Freaks Like Us

No Words Of Wisdom Half Gone

Keep It On The Inside Insecurity Guard Ring The Bells Set Me on Fire and Feed Me to the Wolves

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STRAIGHT LINES THE CAVE

Straight up and down rock and fucking roll. It’s such a rare treat to have this lot back on stage. And they produce a crackling, proper rock show, albeit early in the afternoon. Tom Jenkins with his new skinhead and DM look and his soaring and masterful Geddy Lee/Burke Shelley-like (ask your gran!) vocals is in imperious form. Backed with the bearded brothers who look like outcasts from the front row of a Sunday Heavies XV, the quartet from the Principality crank out riffs, power chords, anthems and ballsy rock and roll that begs the question why they, as yet, aren’t huge stadium fillers. There are heavy whiffs of Sabs, Purple, Budgie and the Manics. Classic-infused but relevant and edgy with great songwriting. And there was a conga. Of course.

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PULLED APART BY HORSES THE FORES A rare acoustic outing for these normally nut-crushing noiseniks.

All slightly uncomfortable on stage, Pulled Apart By Horses actually pull it off. A jug band, back porch, Hill Billy vibe is conjured up. And it’s rather intoxicating. The cranium crushing grunginess is replaced by pared down honesty and frailty. And, although the band don’t really appear to be totally digging it, the crowd lap up the moonshine avidly. Yee haw.

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FOR FOXX SAKE

BLACK FOXXES THE AXIOM

Bloody hell! They open with Rocking In The Free World!

Rocking In The Fucking Free World? Festival over. Everyone else go home. Pack up your spotty hankies on sticks and do one. Black Foxxes have won 2000 Trees. It can’t get any better. Can it? Well, actually, it bloody well does. Via the likes of ‘Husk’ and the delicious ‘Slow Jams Forever’, this divine Exeter trio ejaculate world class contemporary dynamic rock into a supplicant and lubed throbbing mass. By the time the shiver-inducing ‘River’ and title track from their amazing debut album ‘I’m Not Well’ (ironic given ever-beguiling frontman Mark Holley’s poorly state) are spurted forth, there isn’t a dry eye or pair of knickers in the tent.

Bloody world class. Need a lie down. Wow.

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Into the beautiful forest. The beautiful festival within a festival nestled in the bosom of some of those beautiful two thousand trees. A beautiful vibe. A beautiful day. And a totally beautiful, fragile, heartfelt and honesty-dripping set from one half of the beautiful band that should be one of the biggest crossover bands in the land. Their beautifully lyrical takes on modern day life, love, loss and living are as good as any songwriter’s craft in the world. They open with a sublime version of Letter To The Team and the goosebump and raised hair count only goes up exponentially from there. A couple of beautiful oldies thrown in along with free beers thrown into the adoring cross-legged crowd. Truly mesmerising, memorable moments. Bloody beautiful.

9 TELLISON THE FOREST

BRIGHT YOUNG THINGS

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U NGVGE YOU A C E H T

NS

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BRIGHT YOUNG THINGS

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PULLED APART BY HORSES THE AXIOM

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Headlining the first day in a tent which is hotter than

MALLORY KNOX THE CAVE

pouring sriracha on your nob, are Cambridge’s pop dahhlinks Mallory Knox.

And they, well, knock it out of the park.

With a fair mix of the more poppy and softer recent material from Asymmetry and Wired, blended with the meatier Dan Lancaster-twiddled ‘Signals’ era bangers like Lighthouse and Wake Up, the boys whip up a cyclone in the sauna with smiles, sweat and singbacks filling the steamy big top to the rafters. However, given the knowledgeable and dedicated crowd though, perhaps a visit or two even further back into their rockier past would have been a treat.

Resuscitate anyone? Just a thought. Great show though. Natch.

Wired Ghost in the Mirror California Getaway Beggars Falling in Love Lucky Me Shout at the Moon Wake Up Saviour Lighthouse Better Off Without You

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on day-release from a secure unit somewhere on a god-forsaken isolated moor and a flame-haired refugee from A Flock of fucking Seagulls. Talk about nominative determination. Weirdos and wastrels they may well be, but Leeds-based Weirds grab a packed tent by the genitalia and swing everyone round above their sweaty rum heeds. A delicious and intoxicating mix of mathy noise, psychedelic electro drops, brown-noise-esque deep bass, heavy doomy, punky and rocky riffs topped deliciously by man-possessed Aiden Razzall’s soaring vocals, snarls, growls and roars. Highlight of the set is Old World Blues. Which is everything but. And, to top things off, they even ended with a song called Weird Sun. Just sayin.

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and wonderful

Weirdos. All four of the fuckers. A comic book reading Warhammer playing metal-head guitarist. A drummer from a bareknuckle fighting commune. A bassist

WEIRDS THE AXIOM

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WARS THE CAVE Hardcore? Metalcore?

Molten rock core?

Apple core?

Who gives a flying fox’s sphincter. Wars are a Rugby-based quintet who definitely don’t fuck about.

It’s not about defining or defying genres. Oh no.

It’s all about passion and energy. Love.

And labours thereof.

So it’s good to see a good sized and enthusiastic mob has gathered to be gratefully torn apart.

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For sure there are superficial cross references with early Architects, Polar, inevitably Alexis On Fire, Palm Reader and even the peripheral touches of TRC. But in a crowded and often ill-defined and genre badge engineered space in the music parlour, Wars do their very best to stand out with an original wash on a crowded ‘ism’.

Yup there’s that well worn clean/dirty vox juxtaposition and counterpoint. But there’s enough riffage and musical endeavour on show to give them their own space.

Vibrant. Energetic. Honest and somehow refreshing. Good on ’em.

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Anaemia Human Being Turn Off Your TV Callous Coffin Peach Milk Wasted Daisy May

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Gone are most of the youthful pop punk excursions. Gone are the long locks of charismatic front man Alex Sears. But what’s left is a stunning mash up of poppy, hooky, rocky gorgeousness; suffused with wonderful harmonies and singalongability. Like the early Cotswolds sun, Decade warm up the main stage with a masterclass in melody and hangover-curing sassiness. Oldies and newies alike are voraciously slurped up by a thronging Saturday morning crowd. With Turn off Your TV and Daisy May leading the way. Brilliance . Sunny, bloody brilliance.

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DECADENCE

DECADE MAIN STAGE

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TALL

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TALL SHIPS MAIN STAGE

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Petrichor Meditations On Loss Will to Life Ode To Ancestors T=0 Home

A wonderful early afternoon. A wonderful Friday. A wonderful weekend. A wonderful vibe. What do we need next? Something wonderful. Of course. And it falls to the ever-wonderful Tall Ships to deliver the dreamy goods. Tuneful, thoughtful, graceful, beautiful. Yup, wonderful. Opening with the sublime Petrichor, Ric Phethean (sounds like a sorcerer) and his band of wonderful wizards cast a magical spell on an vast, entranced (and obviously seriously hanging) appreciative crowd. Simply wonderful.

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VUKOVI THE AXIOM

what the actual

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Huge hype.

Huge expectation.

Huge Riffs.

Huge refrains.

Huge power. Huge singbacks.

Huge tunes.

Huge crowd.

Prey Weirdo And He Lost His Mind

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La Di Da Animal

1 ~ 2

Target Practice Boy George

Huge noise.

Huge charisma.

Huge smiles.

Huge future.

The hype was right.

(Not sure about the YMCA ‘arm’ thing in Animal though!)

Huge.

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DEAF HAVANA THE FOREST

The Past Six Years Fever Happiness Wonderwall Mildred Hunstanton Pier

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dulcet

Ok , it ’s ra ‘ju th st er 1 Ja ~ fin th me 2 an e. s( I t n h a ta ew fa nd len ct lat ho te mo be er l db e r yo Ma e ba lok t n h d tty d of e a a s n mo te co fo in fi n rt u n st th sti tro e. he lev e f c o M ub re b el l r k r u e nd l ’ s V sd ed du to ine an ec itio x a r at k d . e s n no B s am Gi y ria Ni .F ut ot pu l ck fM l o s r h u h . d c nis ey str er ha Hi i is Dr ild , s a h m a re m pla th tin ing on ke wr be or d) a g e itin yf t t r w ? a ’ c s s o ul an l. H ith Y f j g i a us up sp th mo do fro pe his e t .B e re ur. od ch rfe m mo u t s t ch t a y A o d c t t n s o l t n e a ee emu t ne da ep d int len ba ky ls fu yi ch im te lud wi rin ck sin Ell n a d t o hin te g th icr n g-a iot he ef an a ou be tS be -lo his ca or d d ds sly m i er ng n es ffe of it ith s s t t o l r i e s a ng en La an al fO ,B et n cri lr rg t !H ds pa as uc of mo ely ou is’s k e i p n D l ’ s a s nd e f H un e u r y Wo kle in lly la ba dis in joy nd sh me ng se co th e o i lf n ve e s r e us wa tt rs wa red co o a e l l y v n m be Hu na en d th pa for tio ro ns inc ny ug ee na ta l nt h ud l tr of nd on ea ing ing a su P t r a wi ier ue re. th .T W sti th ea ha l e lr rs t is idi an the cu d re lo no us ly t to lov e?

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STEVEN BA T LLE THE ATXEIO M

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Th e mu mus ic s Ste ic lo ian’s v v mu ine en ‘T er. L sic vit he ad i ab i e s a n. T Mu M us le he sic a n mu of pla infu ic’ B att d ge his ria s ys e t ntl ic lo he mu ing to lle ve ’s e a . s m B f r’s sli Me play ical gh estiv ecau en, a ga ing t a c M l s y oly l eo f ec r th lec uckd tes redu clas f th he om e fift ce .B tic e ab s da ut ou infl e. P h so pe ud , M r nd mo ld a u , r i s e f B en sio orm ou st d nc r ce tn e n, ed avo i s so igh s as ica nd ng an ee t ted i f at cra d dt de the oo ft, sh niz n o m eo en wm ult s. L f th i on e in ansh gm ip du ay str y he rei ’s gn .

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EMPLOYED TO SERVE THE CAVE

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Wakey wakey 2000 Trees. Time for some proper noise.

Call it what you want: post hard grind math billy bollocks core? Whatever.

This is sonic energy defined.

Spending time in the proximity of Employed To Serve is like being locked in a janitor’s cupboard with a n F16 on full afterburners.

A full frontal assault of the senses.

And it’s fucking fantastic.

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Difficult to define or categorise, Woking’s finest thunderflashes channel moments of Dillinger or Converge with drips and drops of Code Orange or even The Bled drizzled into the mix. But they’re far from a me too mimic. There’s a freshness and a newness here. In spades.

Justine Jones’s vocal barrage ranges between vicious barks and blood curdling screams to impassioned control. All glued together by Sammy Unwin’s unrelenting chops on thor’s thunder guitar. Fresh. Fantastic.

And very, very loud.

Pardon?

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MAIN M A N

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There’s no one else on earth like Monsieur Jamie Lenman. Thank the lord. His suave US depression era fashionable swagger. His tufty little hair thing. His humour. His skittish and sidewinding eclecticism. His softer, darker, more sensitive side. His jazziness. But most of all there’s his riffs. Big, hairy, world class, seed-laden, swollen riff bags. And tonight he brings a drummer. An amp. A bass amp. Freddy Mercury’s yellow bondage jacket and his trusty old geetar to evacuate his groaning riff bag onto an a rammed main stage soaked in early evening sunshine. And the result is simply stunning. Fast stuff, slow stuff, faster stuff, newer stuff, older stuff, really fucking older stuff.

But all just wonderful stuff. Three Reuben songs (Parties Break Hearts, Blamethrower and set closer Cities on Fire) are given the treatment and comfortably rub shoulders with the peerless newbies Mississippi and Waterloo Teeth along with works of genius from Muscle Memory - the most dazzling schizophrenic double album ever released. Hell, the madman even does a bring the house down cover of Queen’s Fat Bottomed Girls (and Boys for terribly modern ‘inclusivity’. Ahem.)

Total, unadulterated genius. Amen.

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JA MAM INIES LENM TAG AN E

Wat erlo o Te Fizz eth y Bl ood Part ies B reak A ll t Hea he T rts h i n gs Miss Y ou H issip ate pi I Ain Abo ut M 't Yo u e, I H r B Fat o ate y Bott The ome m To Blam d Gi o rls ( ethr and owe Gar Boy r y, In s) dian The a Six Fing Citie ered s on Han Fire d

D

E

A

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Friends Like These Little White Lies Cassiopeia I Will Try 22 The Past Six Years Hunstanton Pier Trigger I'm a Bore, Mostly Cigarettes & Alcohol Anemophobia Sing Mildred

F

I

N

S

T

I

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T

U

T

I

I’ll keep this one bloody brief as I run the risk of sobbing onto my bloody keyboard. One of the UK’s finest bloody talents back to their very bloody best. In a packed bloody tent full of sweaty, singing and screaming bloody worshippers. A bloody ‘fan-voted’ set list to die for, rammed fuller than bloody Abby from EastEnders M&S apple catchers of total bloody bangers.

A bloody Oasis cover (because the bloody fans voted for Cigarettes and Alcohol rather than Nicotine and...oh you get the picture.) Bloody joy. Bloody despair. Bloody pathos. Bloody smiles. Bloody love. Bloody rejection. Bloody reflection. What a bloody band. What a bloody show. Bloody blooming heck.

DEAF HAVANA THE CAVE

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O

N

FRANK CARTER & THE RATTLESNAKES MAIN STAGE

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Acid Veins Vampires

What

Snake Eyes

more

Beautiful Death I Hate You

can you say?

Frank Carter.

Rattlesnakes.

Absolutely

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packed 1 ~ 2

main stage.

Moshing.

SurďŹ ng.

Circle-pitting.

Vodka.

Punk.

Rock.

Showman.

Sweat.

Love.

Wow!

TO BE FRANK

Wild Flowers

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Ban All the Music Wake Up Call Trip Switch Last Orders Sorry Painkiller Excuse Me If I Get High Itch Drawing Pins Amsterdam

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NOTHING BUT THIEVES MAIN STAGE

Lost for words. Saw this lot for the first time at this

know, but being old enough to have experienced

very festival a couple of years ago. Since then I’ve

some of the worlds greatest singers live (Plant,

seen them several more times. From in front of

Buckley, Gillan, Bellamy, Cornell, Dickinson et al)

around a 100 in a bar Sarf London, to a packed out

Mason has honestly got to be the best I’ve ever

Forum and a sold out Brixton headline show. Oh

heard live. There, I said it. And tonight his pipes are

my, how they’ve grown. This little corner of the

at their very best. Despite being upstaged by a

Cotswolds is definitely in the company of rock royalty

young fella called Freddy with giant ear defenders

tonight. If not fully invested as monarchs just yet,

who was touchingly invited on stage to join in with

then certainly the prince regents waiting in the

the party banger Trip Switch. Ending with one of

ante-room. A complete and shimmeringly brilliant

their newest anthems, the towering and raucous

performance led by the diminutive of height but

Amsterdam, NBT leave no one in any doubt that it

colossal of larynx Conor Mason totally entrances

won’t be long before they’ll be on that throne

a boisterous and adoring crowd. A bold claim I

alongside the likes of the Biff and Muse. Awesome.

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Difficult slot. First on the main stage on the last morning. But with two thirds of Reuben and one part Hundred Reasons (well 2 actually with Colin joining in during

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Loses All The Romance) FTA are definitely man

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enough for the job. And they do themselves proud rollercoastering through a rocking and rolling set of serious grown up proportions.

They’re not a ‘hooky’ kind of band which may limit the sparse crowd’s participation a tad. But bollocks to that, top band, top effort.

FREEZE THE ATLANTIC MAIN STAGE

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SOEUR NEU STAGE

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There are so many reasons to love festivals like 2000 Trees, but probably one of the best is discovering new bands.

Strolling into the compact Neu stage, I’m still struggling to get to grips with what we’re treated to. Soeur, a double female fronted trio anchored by Jim, the erstwhile stick genius of the incomparable Maybeshewill combing bone crunching dropped grungy dirt with plaintive and unashamedly quirky harmony and lightness. All with time signature chicanery and jiggery pokery thrown in for luck.

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The dual guitarists/vocalists, Tina V and Anya Pulver enmesh perfectly and produce spine tingling counterpoint and harmonies tighter than a coelacanth’s foo foo valve. It’s moving, engaging, deep, heavy, delicious, haunting and really rather fantastic.

Grungy and deconstructed in parts, whimsical and romantically angst-ridden in others. A truly wondrous find in the midst of so many other wondrous acts. Expect to hear a lot more about and hopefully a lot more from this special band of sisters. And, of course, Jim too. Fabulous and truly enchanting stuff.

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There’s good rock and roll. There’s bad rock and roll And there’s Bad Sign rock and roll. Impossible to put one’s finger on what kind of rock and roll Bad Sign rock and roll is, we’ll just have to settle for honest, heavy, raw, big bollocked, hairy bastard hybrid of somewhere between nu-Djent and Old School NWOBM. Whatever it is, there’s nothing bad about it. Thumping bass, driving rhythms, dirty, raw, big bollocked hairy bastard guitars and towering powering vocals. You can’t fail to smile and release the inner Angelwitch within you with this lot. All good signs.

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BAD SIGN THE CAVE

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GRUMBLE BEE THE FOREST

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Back for a third set of the weekend, this time standing in for LTA after they cancelled their forest session, Mr Bennett and his guitar work their joo joo on a crowd who if they are disappointed that Duce and Co are a

8

no show, certainly aren’t letting it show. Jack kicks off 1 ~ 2

deferentially with a stunning cover of Duce’s Another Sad Song. Then he shimmies through gorgeous and lush pared down acoustic versions of some of his own wonderful works. The crowd lap it up, sing along and engage fully with this most engaging of young maestros.

Albeit much to his self-effacing consternation. A true star shining very, very brightly. Gorgeous stuff indeed.

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D NDRAEVE E HTU C N E O H E TH

8

1 ~ 2

. ny fail try. Ma y n a d M n ion. ully ble ollinat ccessf ross p u c s , e y r e e n r Th lB w -ge some. s, inter Specia n p s e u a h t h s e a rap, abl And vers, m blend grime, nail it. s , k a d n e t r u Crosso u d bo t, p Hun hat the l, djen ve is a e One unk. W . Meta r y belie s c n y But Th e e a g il m n at gru d Ba aring er wh house ino an . Ende t g a n r in e D t k togeth , c o p fu nthe mullet , deep . Oh so de Me gecore potent g edge n d in u Creme n d lo A e . y y s le as with b enerall eliciou , pop, e g and g tally d mplete o dance in o t c c n ’s a it ld h d d g, Fie alrig t ver. An Jacob bouncin ’s fun n It to a . in fuck e o m r s t e e ss .Z r on tribute the ma zzing f . Given and dis Fucks educes is and bu s . h t o d n N le a t . ating. bot And , incites intoxic eed to elves. d n s n m ly a cajoles s e le u h rio dib of t hey se d. Incre g a tit nce. T he lan makin a t t s in b l u a s stiv h real very fe but wit ter at e n u o c r the it unde

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Funereal Ex Luna Scientia Adrasteia Rituals The Embers Stage Knives Opalescent All That Has Gone Before

ROLO TOMASSI THE CAVE

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Remaining one of the most deliciously challenging, original and outré acts in the land, Rolo Tomassi enter the sultry, sweaty tented stage and from the off tear faces, melt hearts, open sphincters and blow minds. The sheer aggression and explosive energy of Eva Spence’s barks, yaps, yelps and growls backed by spidery, meandering jazzy, mathy nuclear powered noise melts seamlessly into spiralling Elizabeth Fraser-esque reveries and dreamy seductions. A band of so many contrasts: blacks. Whites. Darks. Lights. Hards.

Softs. Beauties. Beasts. Like prying open the cranium of a deeply fucked up patient in the profoundest of therapy. A cerebral pandora’s box of nightmares and the sweetest of sweet dreams.

Terrifying while simultaneously tranquilising and beguilingly hypnotising. What an experience.

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I'll Find You Drowning No Way Back Falter The Perfect Gift Still Be Here This Mess Sometimes Savanna Kill Your Own Silver

HUNDRED REASONS THE FOREST

REASONS

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TO BE CHEERFUL

There are important seminal bands. Then there are other important seminal bands. Then there’s Hundred Reasons. The biggest forest crowd of the festival is gathered in a quasi religious hush to worship at the altar of Reverend Colin and his band of apostles. Well two of them anyway. What follows is as near to a religious experience as a bunch of pissed, emotional, stoned, unwashed and ramshackle group of dishevelled but dedicated revellers will ever experience. 45 minutes or so of ecclesiastical light shards shining forth onto the bewitched and entranced congregation. The back catalogue is given a rigorous gold panning to isolate some real nuggets. Of course, Falter, I’ll Find you and the ever-gorgeous Silver are given the stripped back treatment, but the set is peppered with b-side rarities and lesser known beauties like Drowning and Savanna. Rumour has it that James, one of the organisers had more than a hand in the curation. Well bravo son and chapeau indeed.

What a hymnal. What and experience. What a band. What a legacy.

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1 ~ 2

MOST

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Live Like T

his

I Don't C are Slackerp

op

Crazy Shaking

in the W ater

First Kis s Feelin g Aberdee Feels Lik e

n 1987

Falling in

Love

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THE XCERTS THE CAVE

When The Xcerts were added late in the day as

rammed tent overspilling as far as these bleary

with the most massive ever version of Aberdeen

special ‘secret’ guests it kind of proved the hoary

eyes could see sing every syllable and raise the

1987 before finishing with a song that’s as important

old adage that you can’t improve on perfection

canvas roof higher than ever. Opening with the

as any pop rock song released in the last 20

erroneous. This is one of the country’s hardest

majestic Live Like this, Macleod, Smith and Heron

years, the absolutely stunning Feels Like Falling

working, most honest, charming and endearing

storm through what can only be described as a

In Love, which, despite only having been released

acts who constantly draw enormous praise and

set of festival perfection. Macleod does his

for a week is sung along by every single joyous

support from acts across every genre. And who

pantomime ringleader crowd participation bit in

loved-up loon in the crowd. It’s been said so many

have such a track record in producing face meltingly,

Slackerpop with a grin wider than Britain’s deficit

times, but quite how this loveable trio aren’t ruling

heart-stoppingly toe-tappingly fantastic pop rock

and treats abound with new songs sounding even

the pop rock world is beyond comprehension. But

tunes. It’s easy to see why they rapidly became

more massive (if that’s even possible) than the

with performances like this and tunes like they

the must see act of the whole weekend. And man

existing canon. This. Is. As. Good. As. It. Gets.

have, surely, surely the world at large will feel

tonight they prove why. An absolute masterclass

Seriously. And man, they know what they’re

like falling in love with these charming, loveable

in hooks and sheer musical joy. An absolutely

doing; sending tearducts and larynx into overdrive

talented fuckers soon. Well, they’d bloody better do!

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LOWER THAN ATLANTIS MAIN STAGE

So, to the last act I managed to catch properly.

apace with huge tune after huge tune. Finally

even a touch frothier, man have they got some

By now the White Russians, ciders and vino collapso

apparently free from the shackles of the constant

chops. Criminal and Here We Go are rocky,

have taken their toll. But what better way to

whiners and naysayers, you know: ‘They were

hooky feel good anthems, Kids in America,

finish my particular party than with yet another

soooo much better in the Far Q and Breton Days’.

Boomerang and Emily pure pop joy. All under-

world class dollop of world class pop rock? This

What’s happened, they used to be like so cool,

pinned by serious musicianship and real craft.

year’s line up is fuller than a bull’s bum with top

LTA have grown up and now feel comfortable in

Beech Like A Tree still sits comfortably in among

quality and classy acts, so it’s kind of fitting that

themselves. And so they should be. Duce often

the slicker newer stuff, but on this evidence, and

good ol’ LTA are seeing me off. And what a way

comes over as a miserable git but hell, he can

with the new smiling Duce crowd surfing, wearing

to go. Seldom have I seen Duce more animated,

pen a great upbeat tune. And the band alongside

flowers in his newly trimmed barnet and playing

fun and, actually, well, happy. From the off,

him are top, top players by any standards. So,

air guitar on an inflatable crocodile - you ‘eard,

there’s a real party vibe. Which keeps going

although much more commercial, lighter and

the lighter future looks very very bright indeed.

8

1 ~ 2

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Well, that’s it. Another totally amazing festival. Done. And

dusted.A huge thanks to the whole organising team, they

really did put on the best festival ever. Thanks to all the friends,

new and old for making this year extra special. So many hangs,

too many people to shout out to, but big love to Testwood, Tay-

lor, Magic Mike and Barber especially. And sorry I only caught

bits of or totally missed sets form so many good bands. Tiger

Cub, DPU, Gnarwolves, Brutus, Muncie Girls, Milk Teeth, don’t

care too much for Slaves, but them as well.

GAME OVER THE END

Can’t wait for next year. Need a lie down now.

Cheers, Bwoooar.x

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This here Ezine thingy is just a bit of fun. Nothing official. Nothing to do with the industry or the festival itself. Just the visual and verbal ramblings of a mainly pissed bloke who loves live music of all shapes and sizes. No payola, grease or money has changed hands. Sadly. The images are all my own and if I’ve fucked up with any image rights nonsense then please forgive me. I really don’t want to go to jail and get thrown into a cell with Big Dave who’ll do bad things to my bottom. The images are all ‘copyleft’ so please feel free to use, reuse, redistribute or reappropriate.

However, most of them are, to be honest, a bit shit so you’d probably be better off getting some from someone good like Thomas L Brooker. Right, that’s it for another issue of Pitshots. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the festival. Until next time, peace. Bwoooar x

C

Bwoooar 2017

Officially absolutely nothing to do with the actual festival. Just so you know.