1,230 The “GOLDEN TOUCH FESTIVAL”, Portsmouth Wedgewood Rooms, Saturday 11th June 2022

 

My second of 3 in 3 days (that’s how gigs come, sometimes…) and another adventure down on the South Coast… when my back gave out on the morning after the Desperate Journalist gig back in February (gig 1,211), I had to cry off taking daughter Jami to see her favourite band Bears In Trees at Bristol Thekla on the following Monday. Luckily Mum stepped in at short notice and Jami loved it, so I promised to take her to the next opportunity to see BIT (as I will henceforth sporadically refer to them as) “live”. This, then, was it; a one day, 2 stage festival at Portsmouth’s Wedgewood Rooms, utilising the main space and the smaller “Edge Of The Wedge” room at the front, and mainly showcasing a number of local South Coast acts (although sadly not recent Portsmouth discoveries Fake Empire or The Stayawakes) but also being headlined by this young South London group of effervescent yet lyrically introspective, coming-of-age indie folksters.

 Feeling a bit limb-weary after last night’s Stuffies shenanigans, I wasn’t necessarily up for the whole day though, particularly as BIT weren’t due on until 10.30! A late one in prospect then, so we decided to set off after the Grand Prix qualifying on TV, hitting the road just before 5 for a swift drive down, finding a parking spot on the main road about 5 minutes’ walk from the venue and getting in about 6.45. Jami had brought a BIT fan art piece that she’d painted and was hoping to get it signed, so we took it in and I asked the merch lady whether that was possible. She texted their tour manager who, a few minutes later, came down and took it backstage, promising to return a hopefully signed copy “later”…

 

So, we popped into the main rooms and sussed things out. It was immediately apparent that the young BIT massive had already bagsied the barrier and were happy to sit it out for them, so we found the last remaining spare barrier spot, extreme house left, and resolved to do the same. So sorry to any band who played “The Edge Of The Wedge” stage, it wasn’t your night… ARCADE HEARTS were therefore our first band on at 7 after a technically beset soundcheck which, according to the impossibly handsome vocalist, was, “like asking your nan to do the splits!” Their first few numbers had a smooth, very 80’s synth-pop sheen to them, more Duran Duran than Heaven 17 for me though, so I instead tried to check in to this event on Facebook. Getting no signal, I asked Jami to save our spot and decided to take a wander outside; good thing that I did, as on my way out into the foyer, I followed a young tousle-haired lad carrying what suspiciously looked like Jami’s fan art. It turned out that it was, and said lad was BIT guitarist Nick, accompanied by keyboardist Callum, so I told them to stay put in the foyer, then grabbed an incredulous Jami to meet them! Lots of gasps, hugs, photos and thanks ensued, and immediately my daughter’s day/week/month was made.

 After a short while we bade farewell to the lads, bought some merch, and took our precious cargo back to the car, back in in time for the last knockings of Arcade Hearts’ set, which continued to mine that 80’s synth seam, closer “Why You” getting the front rows (and Jami) bouncing along. So at their conclusion, we followed our strategy and stayed put, ignoring the next band on in the “Edge”, chatting instead to fellow barrier surfer Ben, who like me was playing “World’s Best Dad” tonight, having brought his daughter (hi Maisey!) from Bournemouth for her first BIT gig. THE ROYSTON CLUB were next up at 8, their initial upbeat attack drawing comparisons to The Housemartins and The Smiths (that “Charming Man” beat!), with other numbers channelling The Vaccines and Arctic Monkeys, particularly in the brash vocalists’ overt vocal delivery. The twin vocal attack of an amped up “Tangled Up In You” and their best number closer “Way Out Of My League” were highlights of a derivative but upbeat and confidently delivered set.

 

ZUZU, on at 9, were however much more the ticket… led by a slight brunette (apparently Zuzu herself!) who reminded me of a younger, wide-eyed PJ Harvey (and reminded Jami of her English teacher!) and who had a Carragher-level pronounced Scouse accent which bled noticeably into her husky vocals, they impressed from the get-go with some well-constructed low, moody numbers which then blossomed into strident brain-hugging and powerfully delivered hooky choruses. Shades of the quiet-loud dynamics of Pixies, the powerful and determined, blues-tinged delivery of her lookalike Polly, and even the rockier pseudo-FM radio dynamics of mid 80’s Pretenders, but overall a unique and highly promising voice, with an early, “Skin And Bone” a plaintive wallow, “My Old Life” (about “going all Emo, heading down to the Mersey to think”) an old-school lighters-aloft stadium swayalong and “Lie To Myself” a sinuous and lyrically savage exorcism of a bad relationship. Penultimate number “All Good” was my highlight, coming in all Nancy Sinatra 60’s swagger before plunging into a grungy sleazoid death march resembling Scarce’s classic “All Sideways”, and the stately, almost Bunnymen-esque building ballad “Queensway Tunnel” closed out an unexpected delight of a set. Apparently Zuzu was buzzing (pronounced, “booozzin’!”) to play this Festival (“I’ve heard it’s boss!”); if so, she took the opportunity with gusto, and delivered big time!

 

More entertaining rock chat with Ben (finding considerable musical common ground, including The Wonder Stuff, Carter USM and even Midway Still!) and a quick chat with Zuzu herself and a pic with Jami; then J abandoned me to make friends with the non-binary BIT posse down the front. Great, I’m fine with that! BEARS IN TREES themselves took the stage promptly at 10.30, opening with their jaunty yet tough sounding ode to sloth, “Great Heights”, and I was immediately struck by two things – firstly, they were immediately way more powerful and dynamic “live” than on record, with a bouncy, kinetic stage presence, like a quartet of colourful powerballs shaken up in a glass jar (!), and secondly, their upbeat vocal-swapping antics reminded me strongly of Durham’s excellent (and equally non-binary-friendly) Martha, a comparison which I’d not made at all before but which right now was slapping me hard in the face. The laid-back and laconic, Philistines Jr.-esque backbeat of “Cut Corners” was next up – Jami was going batshit crazy down the front with her new friends, and I was enjoying them much more than I’d expected!

 A quick pause for a “Nick needs to tie his shoelace” break (amusingly soundtracked by Callum on the keys); then the insanely jolly “Heaven Sent Is A Coffee Cup” saw Callum take to the photographer’s pit to rabble rouse the front rows, followed by the band rampaging through an almost Ramones-like oldie “Cobwebs”. The old school indie jangle of “Ibuprofen” was preceded by a chat from (probably) main vocalist Ian about, “the friends in your life who make you feel you’re worth something,” underlining another notable feature of this band, namely their connection with their young audience; they care deeply for their fans, and their song lyrics often reflect the pains and tribulations of growing up and transitioning into young adulthood, very relatable for their young massive. This point was again emphasised by the widescreen chorus of newie “Precipitation”, probably my set highlight tonight (and not just due to the entertaining overuse of the word “petrichor”!).

 

A melancholy, Dashboard Confessional-esque “I’m Doing Push Ups” again saw Ian deliver a pre-song motivational message (“you’re all much more than the bad things in your life”) before they thanked the Festival, “for having this dirtbag boy band from South London!” and closed a 45 minute set with the call-and-response “Fresh Concrete”. Jami had stayed put down the front throughout and clearly loved it, and so did I, Bears In Trees having won me over tonight with a dynamic performance. Well done guys!

 

And well done too to Ian and Callum for popping out afterwards; I sent Ian over to gatecrash a photo of Jami and her front-row friends, before more chat and fond farewells. So we finally hit the road for a convoluted and circuitous exit out of Portsmouth (including having to stop at Every! Single! Fucking! Red! Light! Bollocks!) and a swift but diversion-affected blast home, arriving at a red-eyed 1.15. Yikes! Nonetheless, a promise well delivered on, and another fine South Coast adventure; I’m glad I was able to get Jami to meet her favourite band. That’s how we gig!