It’s
November, we’ve just got back from sunning ourselves in foreign climes, so it
must be time to Shiiine…! Our fourth year in a row down to Minehead’s Butlins
holiday camp for the “Shiiine On” Festival, the annual celebration of the
primarily UK Indie/ Dance 80’s and 90’s scene – which as ever plants it 50% in
my Wheelhouse (I never “got” the concept of “Indie Dance”; gimme Indie Rock and
I can dance my knees off to that!). And after a patchy bill in 2018, this year
there were delights aplenty scattered liberally throughout this year’s
itinerary, including some enticing “Shiiine On” debutants, and one real
curveball in the shape of US alt-rock icon Bob Mould! Not so much that he
didn’t fit right in – Sugar’s 1992 debut “Copper Blue” is a stone-cold classic
of the era – but more so that he was the first original American artist to
significantly feature on the “Shiiine On” bill. Who’s next; Superchunk? Buffalo
Tom, even??!!
The “Core
Four” of myself, Rachel, Rich and Matt booked early as usual, then were joined
late on by another “Shiine On” debutant in the form of Ady Bevan, Butlins again
being very accommodating in moving us to a 6-berth Silver Apartment at short
notice. So Rich already had Ady in tow when he picked us up relatively early
doors, a quick drive pitching us up in Minehead’s Tesco just before midday,
meeting Matt and buying provisions and breakfast fixings before the traditional
seafront fish and chips! One advantage of hitting town early was a very short
queue to book in – result! So we squared away and chilled awhile in the chalet
before wandering along to the Inn On the Green, where bands were already
underway. The Inn itinerary this year featured a number of relatively unknown
current bands, whose music thematically referenced the “Shiiine On” style and
genres, so for starters we had NARCISSUS, a Mancunian bunch who played some
initially decent baggy-influenced indie rock, but then descended into a morass
of identikit guitar jangle and forgettable groove. A well-intentioned “leftie
libtard disco song” was particularly poor, and we reckoned their presence on
the bill was down to being mates of the organisers… Better was to come in ALFA
9, however, who chimed in with a Summery 60’s psychedelia number, their set
then navigating between this baroque Byrdsian/ Love/ Buffalo Springfield
groove, Kinks-ish knockabout pop and some slightly more countrified material
which recalled The Thrills. The main driving feature throughout, however, were
some very tight 2-part harmonies which overlaid every number, especially set
highlight finale, a fast-slow “Dead Man”. Definitely an early highlight!
Some
punter then hopped onstage and went all pseudo John Cooper Clarke on us,
ranting about the gentrification of Manchester (or something… I was honestly
paying scant attention), before introducing the much-lauded PSYENCE. They
played a murkish mess of riff-heavy prog-psych noise, which immediately
reminded me of Kasabian or The Music, neither being compliments! Some of their
faster, more upbeat material was at best tolerable, but overall they were way
too one-dimensional for me, and at worst a noisy old bag of shite! So with not
much else of offer on this (admittedly) slow-burner of an opening day, we
headed off back to the chalet for a cup of tea, returning about 6.30 for our
first visit to the main Skyline arena and catching the last knockings of
REVEREND AND THE MAKERS passable but slightly dull Britpoppy noise, with
occasional ska inflections. However, they were plying their trade in front of a
very large and enthusiastic first-day crowd, so clearly I’m missing something
about this lot… One later number featured the Marmite ad jingle (!) which again
got the crowd singing along – bizarre!
Anyway,
we hung around, Rach and the boys getting the beers in, for CAST at 7.20. John
Powers vowed to, “get this fucking place rocking!” and immediately set about it
with a surprisingly upbeat “You’ve Got To Fly”, diverting into the slightly
baggier Beatles-influenced Britpoppy jangle of “Sandstorm” and “Fine Time”.
Much lower on the bill than their Sunday headline slot a couple of years back,
I actually felt more kindly disposed to Cast this time, and their set was a
vast improvement over that snooze-fest, whilst still featuring swathes of unenticing
indie landfill and never approaching a Shed Seven-style revelation. The rockier
and 60’s-inflected “Free Me”/ “I’m Alright” segue to close the set was ok,
though.
We then
stayed put for first-day headliners THE LIGHTNING SEEDS, Scouse legend Ian
Broudie’s maverick band of popsters. I’d adored his previous band Care with
former Wild Swans frontman Paul Simpson (Care in 1983 producing my Single Of
The Year in the majestic “Flaming Sword”), and loved The Lightning Seeds’ debut
slab of purest harmonic pop, “Pure” (that one only being beaten to 1989’’s SOTY
honours by Pale Saints’ “Sight Of You”), although subsequent releases drifted
lazily past in a soporific Summery haze. Still, I was looking forward to their
set and wouldn’t have wished the subsequent techy glitches on anyone… opener
“Marvellous” sounded anything but, with no guitar in the mix and Broudie
getting visibly agitated about it, until the sound got sorted – well, sort of…
Broudie did his best to engage the crowd (“are you all in a good mood? Me
too!”), but their delicate and clean Britpop was falling flat, due to ongoing
problems with the sound, and was often barely heard about the hubbub of a frankly
disinterested and diminishing crowd. A more dynamic “Ready Or Not” showed signs
of a revival, Broudie finally admitting, “we’ve got a few technical problems up
here,” before diverting for an acoustic cover of Wreckless Eric’s “Whole Wide
World” (“a song I used to listen to in Erics”). The penultimate “Pure” was
nonetheless a moment of genuine pop brilliance, and a cheesy crowdpleasing
singalong of “Three Lions” ended the set on a high note, although I guess
Broudie (who had made no effort to disguise his frustrations between numbers)
was then off to kick some asses…!
That
was it for the main arena, and we decanted to Jaks for DEJA VEGA, as, it
seemed, did most of the mainstage audience! It. Was. RAMMED!! DV were dark,
pounding, fast-paced and aggressive in a bolshy 60’s Modish way (The Who on
steroids?), every number ranting past in a superfast pace. I’d probably have
enjoyed them under different circumstances, but decided instead to head off to
the considerably less populated Centre Stage! SICE (“or, as I’ve acquired a
double-barrelled name; Sice – open bracket – Boo Radleys!” quoth the man)
joined us onstage for a fine set of acoustic strumalong versions of Boo Radleys
classics. The Boos would go down great here but it’ll never happen, if main
songwriter Martin Carr’s current stance is anything to go by, so Sice – these
days a smiley bald and round chap in an ill-fitting black suit, who looked a
top hat short of being The Fat Controller – will have to do. And the man did
well, with “Wish I Was Skinny” (“from “Giant Steps”; one of those albums
everybody loved but nobody bought!”) an ironic plangent delight, “Barney And
Me” groovy, and “Lazarus” (“I don’t do the long intro – this is the 7 inch
edit!”) my favourite of this set. The inevitable “Wake Up Boo” closed out a decent
and fun set, Sice himself as entertaining as the music (“look how many pedals
Swervedriver have got! I’ve got 2!”).
Doleful
90’s Shoegazers SWERVEDRIVER were indeed up next at 11.40; beloved by a number
of my Boston rock friends, I’ve never “got” them, finding their stuff
indistinct layers of noisy fuzz. The opener was suitably grumbly and growly,
with Adam Franklin coming across like the curmudgeonly uncle of Shoegaze. The
riff-heavy “Never Lose That Feeling”, next up, was better, but in any case I
was only in for a Swervy sampler tonight, slipping back off to the by-now much less busy Jaks at midnight. THE
WOODENTOPS thankfully had a much less fiddly soundcheck than their previous
“Shiiine On” appearance, but still kicked off 15 minutes late, the opener “Good
Thing” chugging along respectably and building to an unexpectedly noisy climax,
which when the chord changed into the denouement was quite splendid actually.
The frantically strumalong psychobilly beat of “Love Train” and urgent “Get It
On” followed, and initially at least, the ‘Tops, led by trilby wearing, wild
eyed, gabbling vocalist Rolo McGinty, were showing signs of the form that made
them one of the best “live” acts of that early 80’s era. It couldn’t last, so
didn’t, the pace dropping considerably and the set gently clopping along,
rather than frantically galloping, a pulsing and pulsating “Everything Breaks”
and a lengthy closer “Move Me” notwithstanding. No “Plenty” (the band wanted to
close with it in preference to “Move Me”, but Rolo overruled them!), but plenty
of reasons to like this set, possibly their best since the reunion.
So
I was late back into Centre Stage for my day one final act, THE WEDDING PRESENT
(or, “semi legendary Wedding Present,” as vocalist David Gedge referred to
them, hopefully ironically!). An early “Everyone Thinks He Looks Daft” sounded
pretty good actually, the sound filled out by the chiming strumalong guitars,
but then it tailed off considerably, a “You Should Always Keep In Touch With
Your Friends” welcome but thin, and a cover of Magazine’s “A Song From Under
The Floorboards” lacking all the bite and venomous snarl of the original. That
was my problem with the Weddoes; everything seemed polite, understated, dull
even, a late “Kennedy” notwithstanding. A band who ironically seem tethered to
that mid 80s indie scene, but unlike so many contemporaries on this bill, sound
just dated now.
Day
2 was re-designated “Get Rach to the Ping” day! My dear lady wife has, for her
previous “Shiiine On”s, taken “Shiiine On” Saturday as an opportunity to really
relax and have a complete skinful of booze; however the scheduling of her
potential highlight at 1 a.m. tonight meant she had to remain largely compos
mentis throughout the day, and I determined to help! A lazy morning and a
Rach/ Big Man supplied brekky fry up set us up for the day, Matt and Rach going
to the pool party and me and the boys heading off to the early-starting Inn On
The Green. CALLOW YOUTH – aptly named as they all looked about 15! – were
playing some riff-heavy and nasal grungy noise so we chilled outside in some
welcome – albeit chilly – sun. I was up for a potential new band highlight
next; a certain Mr. Tom Willecome had posted on the Bob Mould facebook group
that any Bob fans at “Shiiine On” might like to check out BEDFORD FALLS, whilst
neglecting to mention he was singer/ guitarist in said band! Nonetheless, a
couple of tracks piqued my interest, so I was at the front of this sparsely
attended venue for their 12.30 set. Opener “Ghost Of You” was a laze rock
groove, channelled via Midway Still and Dinosaur Jr., “Congress Of Louts” recalled
souped-up “Bandwagonesque”-era Teenage Fanclub, and “Wilmington” had the
introspective yet rocky yearnings of a Nyack number! Hitting a lot of references
for me then, and with a big chunky popcore sound and a strongarmed and
energetic vocalist in Tom, it was also no surprise that this lot reminded me of
local favourites Raze*Rebuild! “Nubuck” was a dynamic “Wagon”-like post-grunge
gallop and the best thing I’d heard all weekend thus far, and I also liked
Tom’s comment of, “I’m probably preaching to the converted, but… Fuck The
Tories!” All in all, splendid stuff and a band I’d like to see again… and
again…
Grabbed
a chat with Tom afterwards, before heading back to the chalet for tea and
chill, then back in the Inn for BLACK DOLDRUMS at 3. A bass/ drums 2-piece, their
soundcheck sounded like an ocean liner docking (!) and the set was a droney,
druggy, effects heavy psych-rock wall of noise. Impressive volume for a
2-piece, I’ll give them that, but the material was regimented and monotonous.
Rich and I had a drink in “Hotshots” while the rest of the crew checked out
Baby Bird in Centre Stage, and I got complimented for my vintage “Scars”
t-shirt by the passing Jasmine Minks, who used to play with them in Scotland back
in the early 80’s! Nice guys; shame that a clash with Bob Mould meant I wasn’t
able to see their subsequent set… Shuttled between the dub stylings of
arena-bound JAH WOBBLE and the trad yet decent Enemy-like indie rock of GAZELLE
in the Inn, before heading into the arena again for TURIN BRAKES. A band who
pretty much totally passed me by, their early “Lost In the Woods” (which was
preceded by a lengthy monologue by the bassist!) was Irish folky-tinged and
Waterboys-like, but was the best of an otherwise quiet, introspective and
unobtrusive set of pastoral and Americana tinged stuff, with one totally out of
place cacophonously noisy ½ number. Then back to the chalet with Rach – who was
buoyant but the right side of drunk, plan working so far – then in to catch the
last knockings of STEVE MASON’s early evening set in the main arena. His set
was waaaay baggier than I expected from the former Beta Band man; his “Hi
Fidelity” soundtrack song was the libidinous best of the set, although a
high-energy closer, “So Simple”, actually ran it closer than you’d think. A
nice message to leave us with as well; “don’t let the bastards grind you down –
and fuck Boris Johnson!”
We
then stayed arena-bound for one of the potential weekend highlights; IDLEWILD.
Expansive and windswept Scottish indie staples and firm favourites in the Rose
household and particularly of Rachel, they’d utterly slayed with a superb set
earlier this year in Bristol, featuring cuts from almost-return-to-form new
album “Interview Music”. T’was one of them that started proceedings tonight,
the almost grungy growl of “Dream Variations”, before the lengthy and languid
“Roseability” really kicked the set into gear, guitarist Rod Jones dashing
around the stage like a demented puppy, whilst his vocalist Roddy Woomble
looked casually on from the wings. “You Held The World In Your Arms”, grandiose
and gorgeous, was an early highlight before “When I Argue I See Shapes” stunned
with a lovely layered acapella mid-song break. The inevitable “American
English”, late on, was its’ usual skyscrapingly massive self, prompting an
audience singalong, then the hitherto taciturn Roddy introduced a ferocious,
amped-up and punk rock “Modern Way” with a heartfelt tribute to Bob Mould,
citing Husker Du as having made, “records we listened to as teenagers.” No
shit, Sherlock… an initially hushed then crescendo-bound “Remote Part”
concluded the best set so far – no doubt, Idlewild smashed it out of the park
tonight!
We
stayed in for headliners EMBRACE, who opened with easily their best number, the
stately anthemic “All You Good Good People”. After that it was always going to
go downhill, and for me did so verrrrry quickly, some dreary plodding indie
landfill driving me out of the arena and onto a Costa chair at the back, to
rest my by-now aching knees for the late evening ahead. Finally it was done,
and we convened in the Inn On The Green with a disappointingly small post-arena
crowd for a potential highlight at 10.15. Scots power-popsters ASTRID were a
late 90’s fave of myself and Rach, their spritely and youthful 60’s influenced guitar-heavy
pop tunes recalling not only a slew of Scots contemporaries (early Teenage
Fanclub, BMX Bandits, even Swiss Family Orbison!) but also the US alt-pop likes
of Velvet Crush and our beloved Gigolo Aunts. “We’re going to party with you
like motherfuckers!” announced vocalist Willie Campbell, before launching into
the irresistibly harmonic opener “Modes Of Transport”. From the off they were
out to prove they’d not missed a beat since those 90’s days, and fired off the
kind of upbeat, groovy and harmony-overlaid tuneage that turned us into sweaty
dervishes back in the day, and at least got me bopping tonight. Furthermore,
they rocked, as promised, like motherfuckers, bouncing kinetically around the
small stage and prompting Rach to comment, “I don’t remember them being that
rocking!” “High In the Morning” was still as Monkees-esque and catchy as all
hell, and “Kitchen TV”, with it’s delicious descending guitar line, was the
perfect closer to a cracking little set. Great to have them back!
Grabbed
some words, compliments and pics with the boys before heading back in for
Matt’s potential highlight THE POPGUNS. Hosts of a pretty good reunion show in
London a few years back after a couple of 90’s Swindon Link Centre showings
(one good, one less so), they certainly put the likes of last year’s Darling
Buds and Primitives to shame with a tight, well played set of their
effervescent girly pop fizz. An early “Someone You Love” was a loose-limbed
danceathon, and whilst some mid-set numbers sounded a little subdued, polite
even, and Wendy looked visibly older than that reunion show, she still could
wrap her tonsils around a tune good and proper, some commanding vocal
performances powering the later likes of “Bye Bye Baby” and a great “Waiting
For The Winter”. A spot-on set, overall. Well done folks!
Time
for fanboy Matt to have a pic with Wendy before we dashed off to Centre Stage,
for the anticipated entrance of BOB MOULD, a shade before midnight. “How’s your
weekend been? Good?” inquired an affable Bob before he kicked into gear with
newie “From The War”, immediately cajoling a ferociously loud noise from his
trusty electric guitar. Flying solo tonight, he attacked the set with his usual
fierce intensity and swathes of guitar effect and noise, prompting Rach to
shout in my ear early doors, “is that just Bob making ALL THAT NOISE??” It was,
and therein lay the problem. I’ve been to enough Sugar and solo Bob shows to
know the old boy always likes it loud, and perhaps in an attempt to make up for
the size of this hall (3,000+ capacity in my estimation) he cranked it up even
higher than usual. Unfortunately, this made vast tranches of the set a brutal
assault, often requiring a verse and chorus to even identify the song, and it
felt like we were enduring the set rather than enjoying it. There were
highlights, of course – “See A Little Light” was audible and actually superb,
“Sinners And Their Repentances” melancholy and doleful, and “If I Can’t Change
Your Mind” irresistibly catchy even with the sound on full. But overall this
felt like an opportunity missed, a relentless sonic assault at the expense of the
songs. Sorry Bob…
However,
the headliners were a perfect example of an opportunity grasped with both
hands; we’d gotten a merry but coherent Rachel to 1 a.m., for headliners
SULTANS OF PING. Early 90’s Fall-esque indie jokesters who morphed into Stooges-lite
scuzz rockers (initially dropping their suffix “FC” then the “OF PING”
altogether), tonight they were returned to their former flippant pomp, and
vocalist Niall was a total star, throwing sneering rock star poses, regularly
referring to the venue as, “Thefuckingbutlins,” admonishing the large and
enthusiastic crowd to, “cut that shit out!” every time they started a,
“Sultans! Sultans!” chant, then later deadpanning, “you know what, do what you
like, I’m past caring…”. Still largely tune-free, they nonetheless went down an
absolute storm, ramshackle terrace chant rants such as “Give Him A Ball And A
Yard Of Grass”, “Stupid Kid” and the inevitable “Where’s My Jumper?” mass
singalong and moshpit highlights. The perfect party band to end day 2, although
I had one more task to perform… Following the Ping, Radio 6 DJ Steve Lamacq
took the decks for a late night DJ set, and I had the opportunity to thank him
for inviting myself and my then-11 year old son Logan onto his programme
earlier this year for his “Dinosaur To Junior” feature. We’d mentioned Logan’s
onstage Bowling For Soup shenanigans, so I was happy to share the pictures with
an incredulous Mr. Lamacq, showing that I wasn’t at home to Billy Bullshit!
Result! And we got Rach all the way to see The Ping too – double result!
Everyone
was late in last night, so unsurprisingly we didn’t greet the final “Shiiine
On” Sunday until nearly 11 a.m! Holding more promise for others in our party
than myself – apparently the first time ever that the 80’s “Stourbridge
Contingent”, namely Pop Will Eat Itself, Ned’s Atomic Dustbin and The Wonder
Stuff, had been on the same bill together – today still had potential, all the
more so due to it “starting” with a lunchtime carvery at The Old Ship Aground!
We were joined by daytripper and old friend James Ward, back in the country
from Dubai, and much catching up ensued on our walk over to The Ship (bumping
into the Scotland-bound Astrid boys on the way out – safe journey gents!) for a
superb – and copious! – meal. We then somehow managed to haul our food-full
selves back into the arena, which even 5 minutes before the 3.20 entrance of
THOUSAND YARD STARE was pretty much deserted – although that may have been down
to the late-running Clone Roses in Centre Stage (Matt checked ‘em out and said
they were a rubbish tribute – I mean, the vocalist could sing…). Damn shame!
Still, there was a more respectable crowd as the band emerged, vocalist Stephen
last, worriedly pacing the stage as if he’d forgotten where his car-keys were.
Proponents of an ebullient frantic indie jangle style, often featuring the
ubiquitous “funky Drummer” beat but cranked up to 100 mph, they’d impressed
with their effervescent love of playing “live” at my first “Shiiine On” and also
on a House Of Love support slot last year, and proceeded to do the same with an
eye-catching and undulatingly melodic set. An early “Buttermouth” was terrific,
bouncing along like a demented Spacehopper, before some considerably tougher
and rockier new mid-set numbers, Stephen once again prowling the stage and
eating an apple… odd! “Has everyone’s dinner gone down? [not ours yet, mate!]
OK let’s start bouncing!” he announced before an almost ska-inflected “What’s
Your Level”, then remarking, “we thought someone scored but it’s gone to VAR…”
before set highlight “0-0 After Extra Time”. A thank you from Stephen, “for
letting us be your amuse bouche!” preceded tumbling and clattering
closer “Wideshire”, concluding another fine set. Thousand Yard Who? No longer!
Today
was “Arena all the way” for the posse; I stuck around for the first few numbers
of JESUS JONES, next up at 4.30. Indie electro-pop dance veterans (hey, they
were “fusion” before “fusion” became trendy, this lot!), they were,
incredulously, appearing at “Shiiine On” off the back of a tour celebrating the
30th Anniversary of their defining debut “Liquidizer”. I say,
“incredulously”, as main-man, the rakish, long-haired and energetic Mike
Edwards, barely looked 30 at all! They kicked into a hard-edged “Move
Mountains”, the undulating chug of “Never Enough” (my favourite JJ number)
following in short order, accompanied by impressively lurid, if a little
migraine inducing, day-glo graphics projected onto the back screen. A catchy
“Bring It On Down” (thankfully not the recently re-recorded acid house 9 minute
version!) was however my last taste of Jesus Jones, as, half an hour into their
set, I repaired to Hotshots, finding a single chair in front of a screen and
watching the Brazilian Grand Prix! Glad I am that I did; not only was it (by
today’s standards) a thoroughly entertaining GP with some completely mad
closing lap shenanigans, but it also meant I missed Pop Will Eat Itself!
Result!
So,
I emerged for NEDS ATOMIC DUSTBIN’s 7.20 set, heralded by the biggest crowd of
the weekend to date. “Shiiine On” newcomers, they set about making an
impression with an energetic showing of their moshpit-friendly Midlands
ramshackle fraggle groove. Never been my cup of tea, the Neds, and I found the
material simplistic and repetitive, the sound bass-heavy and the guitar an odd
hollow echo in the background of the mix, but the “Shiiine On” massive lapped
them up, so what do I know, right? Anyway, I also nipped back to the chalet to
take some medication during their set, returning as the terrace chant of “Kill!
Your! Television…” resonated not only around the arena, but the whole damn
site!
No
matter, the main event was to come in the shape of headliners THE WONDER STUFF.
A band I’m increasingly enjoying “live”, finding their current iteration
possibly the best sounding of all their myriad line-ups, and enjoying the relaxed
bonhomie and flippant repartee of the more, erm, mature Miles Hunt,
they’d been Top Band of a stellar 2016 “Shiiine On” bill and were only pipped
for top honours in 2017 by an astonishing Peter Hook set. Great things
expected, then, and from note one we were not to be disappointed; Miles greeted
us with a buoyant, “Oi! Oi! Butlins!”, then opener “Mission Drive” snuck in
before building to a stellar circular fiddle riff (do they call them “riffs” if
they’re played on the violin?) from Erica Nockalls. “We have a new album out –
it’s fucking outstanding – but we’re not going to play anything from it!”
announced Miles to cheers, “come see us on tour for that!” Will do, Milo!
Clever
move that, actually, as the perfect festival headline set ensued, hit after hit
from The Wonder Stuff’s stellar 80’s/90’s catalogue raining down on us, songs
ingrained in the consciousnesses of all present. “On The Ropes” sounded huge,
thankfully bereft of the feedback issues it’s been plagued with here in the
past, “Here Comes Everyone” was epic and building to a huge anthemic hook, and
the folky fiddle-led “Golden Green” was preceded by Miles asking, “anyone in
the mood for a hoe-down? A definite “no” from over there [in the crowd]… off
you fuck, pal!” A poignant “Piece Of Sky” was dedicated to the dearly departed,
before the set built up a proper head of steam, with “Wish Away”, “Unbearable”
and a frankly thunderous “Ten Trenches Deep” tearing the crowd a collective new
one. A surprise encore appearance for the flippant “Radio Ass Kiss” preceded
the final number, early Stuffies number “A Song Without An End”. “Let this be a
festival without an end,” announced Miles, and after this, the Set Of The
Weekend by some distance, we all felt that way.
End
though it did, and after a quick sojourn into Centre Stage for some bolshy mod
posturing from TIME FOR ACTION, it was time for bed… for some of us at least!
Matt, Rach and I turned in for just before midnight, an 8.30 start getting us
all offsite just after 10 and home for 1, wiped out but happy. Another great
“Shiiine On” weekend with excellent bands, fine relaxing atmosphere and great
company, the addition of Ady and (for Sunday only) James to our little group
adding to the general bonhomie. Four years in a row now, and this looks like
being a regular fixture for some time to come. Long may we all “Shiiine On”!
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