SOUTHSEA FEST: Liz Croly’s View

As I wander to The Wine Vaults to get myself and a few friends our tickets, I’m already aware that it’s going to be a long day, I thought I’d made a reasonably early effort by arriving at midday, the already intoxicated seemed to disagree. I’m queuing to receive my band and hear a familiar voice, as we get chatting I realise he’s just one of the many people trying to scam themselves a free wristband through friends of friends and multiple involvements in bands, then again if you can- why on earth not?

Having “ahoy matey” on my wrist I make it back to visit a friend at work in The Fat Fox where The Boy I Used To Be is already half way through their set. Previously I’d heard only good things about them and therefore stayed to listen, in a reasonably empty room it was a pretty good set and calm at that. The first drink of the day is underway and it was off to a pleasant start. After a few more drinks we head straight to LJR where we appear to walk in on what looks like a confusing set up for The Racketeers, here I found myself a bystander in a conversation between a friend and Keith from The Dawn Chorus, as they discuss the bands success in playing Bestival I begin to research when and where they’ll be playing and am intrigued to heard what this seemingly coy band has to offer.

A friends younger brother was playing Wine Vaults, having not heard them in a while I went to see The Unknown Soldiers and was surprised by the improvement the boys had made and continued to enjoy the youthful bands strong and obvious Doors influenced sound. Beau Curtis’s deep and dark vocals gave an interesting feel to the room and it was nice to see them playing again. Dragon Eye Morrison on the other hand have never been a great passion of mine and once again I thought I’d try and enjoy their set but it’s simply not for me, with their great popularity I completely understand that something about them must be attention grabbing and enjoyable but I’m yet to notice this. The Edge of the Wedge had a brilliant atmosphere during their performance however I failed to stay for the whole set purely because I felt that the first half had shown me all I needed- and this was that not matter how much I want to, I won’t understand the great attraction to Dragon Eye Morrison.

We then returned to LJR to see the previously mentioned Dawn Chorus who weren’t as coy as I formerly thought, this showed a whole new light on the guys. They played a great set with plenty of stage presence and you could see the band enjoyed playing as much as the audience enjoyed listening- as my first time of hearing them I was pleasantly surprised. Continuing, I went to see Le Plat De Jour put on a confusing yet brilliant set, with witty banter from the vocalist and multiple instrument swaps from her fellow band mate, the two offered a poetic and shy performance that fit The Magic Bean Café perfectly. The audience remained quiet throughout the majority of the set, despite the slight repetitiveness I thoroughly enjoyed the peculiar noises the pair produced. Now, I’m going to be completely honest, from this point on my memory escapes me… Small details come back to me every so often but apart from that I fail to remember some of the night- especially the band names.

I remember what bands looked like, and my opinion of them, however struggle to recall the name. Wine Vaults had a show with a desirable guitarist and their folk rock sound gave a great atmosphere. However Django Django were more than memorable, the mathrock set in The Loft threw me off, and despite my drunken state I was able to enjoy their show completely. With the energy presented to the audience the band enticed the viewers to enjoy their set entirely. I then went to The Wedgewood Rooms to see Little Fish and once again wasn’t let down, I had seen them recently at LJR for the first time and thought they were great and the second time was no different. The loud and carefree set got even the “trendiest” members of the audience to forget they weren’t trying to impress the population of Albert Road and actually enjoy themselves, which was perfect for the beginning of the end to Southsea Fest. I left having sobered up and completely satisfied with the day; mostly great people, mostly great music and an unbeatable atmosphere.

SOUTHSEA FEST: Matthew Clarke’s View

Presumably, one has been here before. A year ago to the day (funny, being that it has become an annual thing) I was stood here, looking just as bemused as I did today. But a year has proven itself to be a long time in terms of social arrangement and within seconds I have met up with Edward Perry (The Boy I Used To Be’s lesser known band member) and I have mugged him for a Fest ticket and his camera. The first moments of the official day then begin wandering over the cables that litter the Wine Vaults and some punked up women swap my ticket for a wristband. They look unamused as Chris Psalia offers them beer, not pieces of paper. Suddenly I have become uninteresting.
It is just about 20 past 11 and I guess you can say Festival day begins now because the wristband is now on. About two and a half minutes in I notice the guys from Senator walk past who enthusiastically inform me that they are on at the Deco at half 4. I let them know in return that I already know because I wanted to see them anyway. They look surprised and I have to show them my timetable and their band name highlight for them to believe me. Unfortunately they ended up going on later, so I would have to let them down. Not long after that I get jumped by Huw Olesker who was just about to play his first of seven shows of the day. He’s basically the literal version of Tiny Tim for the uke-is-now-cool generation. This would be the third time I’ve seen him and, despite playing familiar material, I laugh my tits off.
Not long after I pop over to the Fat Fox. It’s still closed and would be for about 40 minutes but people start congregating around whilst Ally (the promoter for the venue) reminisces casually about how the Fat Fox was buzzing last year because this was where the wristband exchange was. After a while trendy people start smoking and talking about trendy things that, frankly, I don’t give a toss about. I zone out. I finally get inside to a wave of apathy. Ed’s inside strumming his guitar and I sit by him. He starts making up things with my name in it that are clever but often let down by the odd self-referential lyric. He’s a funny fucker I’ll give him that and I genuinely couldn’t wait for his set, which although I’ve heard a hundred times (on stage and myspace and whatever) it still sounds fresh and fun. But it is now 20 past 1 and I want to see Aeroplane Attack…
…who are half-way through their set in the sweaty Edge of the Wedge. I had the weird and wonderful opportunity to support these guys but fuck me if they were bigger and better than then. It was a very short ten minutes though before they finished, the wall of sound collapsing and leaving me uncomfortable with the thought of walking back anywhere. Ritchie from the Demons said he was popping to the loft to see the Confederate Dead and, being that it was my plan to do the same anyway, I followed. When I got there it was the unlikely formation of the Melodramas that made me take notice. They were interesting and doomy, drastically different to the sound of craptastic indie that I had associated them with. However, this kind of slid my mind cos I wasn’t here for them. WHEN the mighty Confederate’s started it was as if there was no other reason to go to the fest. Mind-blowing and quite sexual, I rejoiced at the entire band and their request for fuck loads of reverb. It was like fucking Hope Sandoval in a black hole. Only, I can only assume that would be slightly more memorable.
Next up was a quick jog over to LJR’s (a venue well-known for terrible sound) for the fantastic Deads. Heed the previous sentence though for the garage band were hindered with the crappy sound and the whole thing became muggy and fuzzed without sounding interesting. I knew the SONGS were there, but the sound was shite. No need to mince words. Don’t worry though, the B of the Bang sounded like this too. Anyway, next I wandered over to speak to Ed to tempt him into seeing Kill Kasper but he wanted to see a couple of crappy Joy Division sound-a-likes so I let him get on with it. After stopping several times on the way to the Wedge I finally got there and watched the majority of Kill Kasper. I’ve heard these guys before on t’internet but never really had been impressed by many of the things that they do. I was always under the impression the lyrics were lifeless and had no meaning other than the vapid imagery they conjured. Boy, was I wrong though. On stage the words seem to impact you like a mallet. The Kolonel looks sincere, pissed off and like he wants you to rock out. A woman starts dancing at closer ‘Get Out’ but she looks like the woman in the song. Suddenly irony overwhelms me.
I’m not a 100% what I did next. A bit more wandering I think, but The Demons were really only on my mind. I got to the Edge, thinking that I would be late for the start of the show, but I was only just appearing at the beginning of Dragon Eye Morrison, a group I never really cared for and the gig didn’t really sway me in any way. When the Demons did come on stage, I really don’t think I was ready for it. I’ve seen them quite a bit and I like all the lads (and Neil, their groupie) so it is always a pleasure to check them out. They were phenomenal. Ok, the vocals were a bit muddy and inaudible, but when does that factor in a pop underground show. That’s right, never! Just about as good as the Confederate’s and probably one of the best times I had seen them play. Next up I wandered to the Magick Bean to watch Le Plat Du Jour, who were kooky and reminded me of Devendra Banhart, the Velvet Underground and Cat Power without the star power. Ed, being the scenester fanboy he is, loved it though and got mildly offended to my text suggesting that “she’d get it”.
We got chips after that and started planning our next visits, but I was knackered and began to make my way home at half 7. A couple of goodbyes and second-thoughts plus ten minutes later I was on the train. I was asleep by half 9. What a wuss.