Saturday
Not quite part of LIMF, Summercamp Festival promises a ‘village
fete meets bloc party’ among the spacious setting of The Camp and Furnace. Bunting
and food stalls awkwardly frame a closed off Greenland Street, and it is
certainly reminiscent of those street parties that engulfed the country during the
Royal Wedding, albeit one that we’ve all paid £50 to get into.
By the time Josef Salvat is set to perform we already have our first casualty
of the weekend, with the Australian pulling out last minute due to illness.
Three late developing six formers claiming to be Yorkshire’s Spectrals eventually threaten to bring
some music to this music festival, but Karaoke
and A Heartbeat Behind fall on the
wrong side of The Fratellis, as Louis Jones’ usually deliberate vocals wander
aimlessly with no real purpose or resolution. There is simplicity to their
Wichita debut Sob Story, which
translates into that sort of meat and potatoes charm that British Rock music is
often celebrated for. Today though, the monophonic guitar lines and
two-dimensional structures sound very detached and well, oddly disaffecting. Maybe
it’s the setting. I mean, people are either at the bar tasting some deep
country Ale or consoling their children foaming at the mouth because of the
noise. Courteous head nodding is about the close the rest of us get to dancing,
as Jones commends the kids at the festival with a sarcasm that dodges the
beaming parents. Most bands would struggle to engage a crowd this disinterested.
Or maybe the chicken came before the egg - I’m not sure.
London three piece We Were Evergreen have emerged favorably from the capital’s
post-Noah and The Wale wave of folktronica bands. Used derogatorily or not, the
word twee has forced itself beneath the narrative of this promising young act,
and as male/female vocal counterpoint and Ukulele solos litter their debut
singles, you’d be a brave man to play them with your windows down. Today
though, there is an impressive energy about their performance, as throbbing
synths and a weighty bass drum propel the ‘tronica’ parts of Leeway and Baby Blue into prominence, transforming them into animated, energetic
triumphs.
Florida post-punks Merchandise are the best booking of the weekend, with the prospect
of their 80s tinged mope-rock mini album Totale
Nite in a live setting promising to be a spectacle. Draped in black and
sporting almost opaque Wayfarer’s, front man Carson Cox bravely trudges on
amidst a cacophony of derivative sniggers. Stereophonics on Jools Holland this
ain’t though, turning The Furnace into a dust bowl and rattling through the
likes of Who Are You? and I’ll Be Gone with the kind of confidence
it took Johnny Cash sacks full of amphetamines to muster. This ferocious and
ludicrously self-assured set culminates in Anxiety’s
Door and oh man; what a song. This is best of the year stuff and the sort
of tune that defines careers, with the eerily familiar She Sells Sanctuary programmed rhythm and plaintive, overdrive lead
guitar drenching Cox’s distant wail in a mighty wall of sound. Summercamp
Festival finally feels like it’s kicked off.
 |
| Merchandise |
The
Staves have gathered somewhat of a cult following
here in Liverpool, with several celebrated support slots and Jessica Stavely-Taylor,
one third of the trio of sisters, studying at our very own LIPA. Vocally it’s
gorgeous, with watertight harmonies humbly sitting on top of what are actually,
very simple and traditional folk songs. Lads are hugging their girlfriends from
behind; teenage girls are filming every moment from the iPhones with tears
streaming down their face, as the whole performance proceeds with that sort of shallow,
nauseating over-sentimentality that has plagued mainstream UK music recently. Nu-folk
seems to have nestled between a place where the aesthetic of emotion and actual
human emotion can mean the same thing. For me, this is detached to the point
where it isn’t even escapism; it’s just distant. Maybe I’m being too cynical,
but I did just pay £8 for a cheeseburger so life seems a bit dark at the moment.
During our interview with Mount Kimbie earlier this year, Dominic
Maker spoke in detail about the duo’s new live show, suggesting that alongside
their sophomore album Cold Spring Fault
Less Youth they have moved on from the awkward bedroom producers into a
live juggernaut. The addition of drummer Andy Ramsey is the driving force
behind this transformation, allowing Maker and Kai Campos to concentrate on the
timbre and resonance of their songs, safe in the knowledge that the beat is
being maintained elsewhere. Opening with Carbonated,
arguably the most iconic song UK electronic music has produced in the last ten
years, a healthily populated Furnace pulsates with that mesmerizing beat and looping
reverb snare, slowly leading us towards an intoxicating, erratic finale of
stabbed vocal samples and a trickle of raindrops. Slow and Made To Stray,
two highlights from Cold Spring, have
an almost post-rock feel to them, traversing a tightrope of textures before Campos
and Maker’s vocals creep towards the climax. Mayor seems like its drawn the set to a close before Kampos erupts
into a virtuoso MPC routine, delivering the final blow in this explosive, exhilarating
performance. The frailty of their recorded material is replaced by a robust,
almost hostile energy tonight, and fuck is it exciting.
 |
| Mount Kimbie |
Sunday
The Camp and Furnace feels beaten on day
two of Summercamp Festival. Footsteps have to be peeled off the floor, the
smell of stale beer fills the air and barmen hunch tiredly over the beer taps
with a look of forlorn overshadowed only by the hungover parents.
Wave
Machines are up there with the city’s best right
now, nominated for the GIT awards earlier this year and picking up a healthy
national following. Tim Bruzon’s mischievous falsetto on I Hold Loneliness and the excellent Ill Fit meanders across woozy, unsteady hooks, turning up the heat
on this humid Sunday afternoon. With an album of the year under their belt,
there is a palpable excitement preceding Dutch
Uncles arrival on the Furnace Stage. Fester
and Bellio plod along wickedly,
with an industrial beat and noodling synths effectively underpinning Duncan
Wallis’ convincing shriek. Flexxin, an
undisputed champion of this year’s summer anthem sweepstakes, confidently
builds on impish strings and acupunctural textures to turn into a heart-racing
masterpiece.
 |
| Dutch Uncles |
Steve
Mason bounds on stage and despite Axel Rose levels
of punctuality, is received warmly by one of the biggest crowds of the weekend.
Waving unapologetically and flanked by a bassist that makes Seasick Steve look
like Mitt Romney, he launches into Lost
and Found and Am I Just a Man
with remarkably clean vocals for a guy with paint down his jeans. Drawing
largely from his excellent 2010 effort Boys
Outside, it is the slower numbers that stand out, with the title track and All Come Down morphing into flag-waving,
Joshua Tree sized ballads. Fire! is
introduced alongside a wince-inducing delve into political rhetoric, as Mason
implores the audience to get rid of all political parties and try their hands
at anarchy. Forgetting the fact that the only logical next step for a society
after anarchy is dictatorship, this is hardly Luther King at The Lincoln
Memorial, and this song like many on the difficult Monkey Minds In the Devil’s Time lacks the vulnerability and
softness of his earlier material as the performance begins to lull. Time
constraints mean that there is no time for any Beta Band, as Mason swiftly exits
with a triumphant fist pump amidst a wail of cheers from the audience (unless
you are a High Fidelity fan).
James Rand’s Lunar Modular eventually grace The Camp stage with their presence
following what appears to be a crash course in rocket science. The set wanders
slowly for much of the opening ten minutes, as synth crescendos threaten to
penetrate the humid, slow motion theatrics. Patience is rewarded in abundance
though, as a chunkier bass and delicate dub delay swells into a climax bursting
with color and energy almost to the point of collapse. It still can’t fill the
room, as audience members start to drop at an alarming rate when you consider
that it is just 11:30 and there is still three hours left of DJs to get
through.
By the time Ewan Pearson takes to the Furnace Stage at midnight, the situation
reaches farcical levels. I have been a solitary audience member only once
before, but that was due to a wrong turning at the Edinburgh Fringe and a
severe lack of any friends whatsoever. As Pearson
flicks between analogue acid-flecked leads and eerie base pounces, I am
literally the last man standing, dancing awkwardly and fondling in my pocket
for some kind of mind-altering substance I know isn’t there to transport me
from this horrible scene. I mean, this is a guy capable of filling Room One at
The Warehouse Project, so you do have to ask yourself how this all went so
fucking wrong. Perhaps it’s the branding, as Summercamp marketed themselves at
the over thirties as some kind of upmarket alternative to the events unfolding
elsewhere in the city. The strong bill of electronic acts largely only capture
the attention of a younger generation though, who want more from their
festivals than ale tasting and craft fairs and who certainly aren’t used to
paying £50 for the trouble.
Despite being part of the Liverpool
International Music festival, Summercamp organisers appeared to distant themselves
from it. Greenland Street felt like a gated community, striving to replicate
the kind of organic passion and local pride that the events at Sefton Park seemed
to have created quite naturally. And when you consider that tickets for Sound
City and Field day are £35 and £45 respectively, I find it hard to believe that
the organisers thought they were justifying the prices based on the lineup
alone, so it was fair to assume (and what they themselves suggested) that the
music would be supplemented by various exciting food and arts based events.
Despite a few overpriced food stalls and some tepid attempts at craft fairs and
tutorials though, it just didn’t happen. I swindled press accreditation, but if
I had paid £50 for that ticket I would justifiably feel mortified. They were
certainly unlucky with all the artist cancellations and rescheduling, but by
pricing the event so expensively, Summercamp set a high standard and rightly
exposed themselves to widespread criticism when things didn’t run smoothly. Liverpool
International Music Festival seems to have been a success, standing as a
testament to this City’s fierce local pride and passion for music. Summercamp
has by most accounts, failed miserably. I know its a nice idea and I'm sure they tried their best, and of course it is only its first year. But fifty fucking pounds..
Mike Townsend
http://www.peterguy.merseyblogs.co.uk/2013/09/summercamp-festival-2013-camp.html
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