A
month off gigs, then back in with a bang with a full-on Festival Day out by the
sea! After the quagmire and Covid-hit debacle that was last year’s Wickham
Festival, I was reluctant at best to revisit that one, and my enthusiasm for a boys
Summer Fest day out there this year completely vanished when The Levellers were
announced as headliners! Thankfully, this one reared its head as a potential
alternative; Portsmouth’s Victorious Festival, now in its 10th year,
and well established as an August Bank Holiday alternative to the utterly
dreadful line-ups that my 90’s hangout Reading Festival now churns out. I’d
looked at this one before, finding previous line-ups a little too mainstream
for my self-confessed obscure tastes, but a whole clutch of boy’s fave bands
showed up together on the Saturday itinerary this year, led by Inhaler, one of
my favourite discoveries of recent times and a band I had to miss last year due
to Covid isolation (Rach took Logan and said they were amazing – bugger!). So
we’re doing this one instead!
Unfortunately,
my dodgy knee well and truly let me down on a family holiday in Paris the
previous week, and even on the day before the Fest (which was our travel day
home) I could barely put any weight through it without experiencing shooting
pain through the joint. Nonetheless, fully (heavily) strapped up and
painkillered-up, Logan and I set off down a sun-drenched M4/ A34 route at 9.30,
going cross country to avoid the really busy New Forest holiday traffic
but still only pitching up on the outskirts of Pompey at 11.45 after a wrong
turn or two. We then took ¾ hour to agonisingly pick our way through the city
to our pre-booked car park, just behind the main Common Stage at the far west
of this large, nearly Reading Festival-sized site. Got in and tramped around to
get some water – the website said the bars would have free drinking water; they
lie!!! – but we eventually got sorted. THE K’S were already onstage in
front of a rapidly-filling audience, bashing out some purposeful sounding
Jam-ish rawk, which culminated in a young fan being sent off crowd-surfing! An
ersatz Sugababes line-up were up next as early afternoon “headliners”, but we
had other plans!
We
took a slow amble to the back of the main arena and along Market Way, where the
usual fest clothing stalls were located. I got used to how my knee was behaving,
and Logan checked out and tried on a multitude of sunglasses (!), and we
eventually pitched up at the smaller open-air Castle Stage (next to Southsea
Castle, where I’d taken Evan for a day out, waay back in 2007!) midway through
SWIM DEEP’s lunchtime set. I was sorry I’d missed the early knockings, as what
I heard I thoroughly enjoyed; some building guitar/keyboard led dreampop
atmospherics and slow burn widescreen drama, overlaid by some high-pitched
vocals, initially recalling early Mew or the short-lived Temper Trap. Good
stuff, culminating in “King City”, a bright, bouncy and singalong closer which
got the crowd clapping along. Nice!
We
grabbed a barrier slot, house right, and waited out the changeover; all stage
changeovers were ½ hour, which seemed a long time, but that said, it likely
enabled the running order to be kept on time, which it remained throughout – to
the minute! Victorious: The Punctual Festival! So, COACH PARTY took the stage
bang on 1.55, opener “What Do I Care” launching off like a pocket rocket, the
mix initially dominated, almost suffocated, by the heavy guitar sound,
remaining so for the undulating, almost doo-wop “3 Kisses”, but thankfully
clearing up for a flippant “Everybody Hates Me”, some grungy Pixies-ish
ascending riffery nonetheless the feature of the best sounding number so far.
The band themselves, however, were on good form, fully road tested after a
number of Festival gigs (including a support slot for French band Indochrine at
the 96,000 capacity Parc Des Princes!), and vocalist Jess was in relaxed mood;
“we’ve been here a couple of hours and no-one’s asked me for pills yet! I’ve
[normally] got a pilly face...!”
A
headlong, punkish “Shit TV” preceded a debate about how many of the audience
had seen The Sugababes’ mainstage set, which culminated in a “fuck the
Sugababes!” chant! The hurtling “Breakdown” then featured a mid-song dead stop
before some cacophonous riffery and primal screaming from guitarist Steph, and
“FLAG”’s strident, fist-pumping choral drama then ceded to the already indiepop
classic finale, the brilliant “Can’t Talk, Won’t”, rounding off a non-stop,
breathless and action – packed half hour from these increasingly promising IOW
newcomers.
Took
a slow amble back after catching our breath, running into Stayawakes bassist
Pete, there with friends and his baby daughter! A quick chat before wandering
back into the main arena where the blue overall-clad DODIE was just rounding
off her mainstream pop set with a number about a train driver, to Hockey
International-level screams from her young female massive. Thankfully they
cleared out and we were again able to get some barrier, house right, for a
proper Common Stage double whammy!
“Hello
to all and sundry!” announced a familiar grey-mopped figure promptly at 3.30;
“we’re a band called WE ARE SCIENTISTS and we think we’re the best band called
We Are Scientists!” Keith Murray (for t’was he) then proceeded to underline
that “best band” claim, leading the trio through a superb set of itchy, angular
post-punk and bright, singalong powerpop. The Wannadies-esque racey, pacey
opener “You’ve Lost Your Shit” led into the dramatic chugging backbeat of
“Buckle”, and an entertaining between-band debate about work, Keith coming to
the realisation, “shit, I AM at work! And so are you [Chris]!” The pounding,
circular riff and soaring, Silver Sun helium chorus of “Contact High” was a
breathless, brilliant set highlight, but in all honesty every one was a winner.
I’d done my homework after their fine December 2021 Trinity set (gig 1,203) so
was able this time to recognise and sing along to every number, from the hooky,
angular “It’s A Hit”, through the taut, funky Talking Heads on speed “I Cut My
Own Hair” (which featured a mid-song pregnant pause, Keith asking the crowd to
keep to the clapping tempo for 7 minutes!), via the thrusting, pinprick rhythm
of oldie “Nobody Move” to the final anthemic number “After Hours”, which
concluded an expertly and energetically delivered Festival set, ultimately my
favourite of the day.
We
were all in for the next lot as well though, so stayed on our barrier spot as a
WAS roadie tracked down a mixing desk setlist for me (lists being hard to come
by, today). Chap! Another half hour wait, but this time along with a larger and
more enthusiastic and anticipatory crowd, comprising a lot of conspicuously
young ladies. No surprise really, the young gentlemen of INHALER are quite the
bunch of lookers, as well as a very promising young guitar band, with vocalist
Eli Hewson (son of U2’s Bono, and currently the same age as his old man when he
and his schoolboy chums delivered their second and best album, “October”, waaay
back in 1981) a tousled rock heart throb in the making. Bugger the looks and
lineage though, for me it’s all about the tunes; Inhaler may be silver spoon
boys, but that only gets you through the door, and then you need quality songs
to stop you getting kicked back out of the room. Opener “It Won’t Always Be
like This” immediately showed they have those, with an immediate soaring
singalong to the stadium-sized hook, and newie “Move On” was equally pacey,
albeit darker and more Cure-like. No one-trick post-punk ponies these, though,
as “Why Does It Hurt” was a looser limbed and dancier number, although
featuring hints of “Joshua Tree”-era U2 atmosphere and space. “Who’s Your Money
On” saw Eli exhort his young followers to jump along in his thick Irish brogue,
and the urgent, fire-alarm clatter of “When It Breaks” incited a moshpit behind
us to the brief concern of the bouncers.
Newie
“These Are The Days” was a blue collar rocker recalling Springsteen or even The
Boomtown Rats (!), and the double salvo of “Cheer Up Baby” and an excellent,
albeit slightly thin sounding, “My Honest Face” ended a fine set, one which I’d
now like to see indoors at closer quarters. Showing a little inexperience on
the big stage (particularly in comparison to their 7 album, 15 year veteran
predecessors We Are Scientists), this was nonetheless a fine showing from a
band seriously going places, if they can deliver on their promise with the
“difficult” second album, due soon…
That
was our afternoon Common Stage entertainment, and this took us up to 5.10… and
teatime! So we took another slow amble along Market Way and grabbed some dirty
burgers and fries from the eaterie with the shortest queue, then bumped into Coach
Party’s Steph for a quick chat about that Parc Des Princes gig (!), before
plonking down on a boulder for tea. Still a paucity of seats around the site,
despite claims to the contrary… anyhoo, back into the nearby Castle stage for
SPORTS TEAM, whose upbeat and optimistic bouncy Britpoppy/ indie set was enthusiastic
and effervescent, full of spritely spunky youthful spunky spriteliness (as I
said to Logan!), and in vocalist Alex Rice, featured an energetic, all-action
and kinetic stage presence. Well, not just the stage, as it turned out… “Our
Entertainment” was a breathless stomper, “New Day” got the young ST massive
jumping about, kicking up a dustbowl moshpit, and a fast, frisky “Going
Fishing” slowed for a huge singalong chorus. A few tongue-in-cheek anti-Reading
Fest comments were fun, before Alex clambered atop the speaker stack to deliver
the vocal to the bolshy “Ashton Kutcher” before going one better, launching
into the crowd in front of us and crowdsurfing a considerable distance out
during the Doors-like 60’s psych wig-out final number!
The
ST massive cleared out then as dusk started to fall, the crepuscular light
seeming to be the perfect backdrop for WHITE LIES. I was wondering how their
more studied and studious pseudo-gothy 80’s oeuvre would follow on from the
seat-of-your-pants bounciness of Sports Team, but from the moment they took the
stage prompt at 7.10 to a rapturous welcome and launched into the strafing
guitar assault of opener “Farewell To The Fairground”, they were “on it”, the
mid-song dead stop and hook singalong providing a startling juxtaposition to
the wall of guitar sound, but also adding drama and gravitas. A speeded-up “To
Lose My Life” followed, slowing for the audience-chanted choral hook, and newie
“Am I Really Gonna Die” was a smooth synth-pop delight. The mid-set “Big TV”
sheet metal Visage-like synth hook was an unexpected clapalong, the crowd well
engaged in this fine performance from the boys, but all things were leading up
to the double whammy finish…
Charles
Caves’ epic growling bass line heralded penultimate number “Death”, the tempo
slowing considerably twice for the “fear’s got a hold of me” hook, before
launching into huge impressive life for the denouement. Then set closer, the
stabbing keyboard intro to a soaring, anthemic “Bigger Than Us” rounded off a
set not completely bereft of flaws (Harry’s voice in particular sounding a
little raspy and road-weary, occasionally straining at the top end), but well
chosen and overall rather splendid.
This
took us to 8 – Logan double-queued for churros in the dusty and dusky gloom,
and we wandered back into the now-packed main arena where THE WOMBATS were
kicking up a rowdy, rabble-rousing but eminently forgettable Arctic
Monkeys-lite noise on the Common Stage. After grabbing some water and taking a
watching brief, however, my knee cried “enough”, so we forewent the potential
hike back and hour’s wait for Castle headliners Bastille, instead sneaking
through the Common Backstage to the car park thanks to a kindly steward who
took pity on my hobbling. Home at 10.30 after a generally quite successful day;
more places to sit would be nice, but maybe I was only more cognisant of this
due to my bad knee. More importantly, everyone we wanted to see delivered big
time, with We Are Scientists winning Band Of The Day for me, Logan going for
White Lies. Overall, a great day out, living up to its name; Victorious!
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