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The final throes of the 2009 festival season throws up a small but perfectly formed treat at Myrtle Park, Bingley
It all sounds a bit incongruous. As festivals go, it doesn't have the 'ring' of a Glastonbury, an Isle of Wight, a Bestival. But then, what's in a name? Bingley Music Live deserves your unconditional admiration. What other festival offers the likes of Doves, Editors, The Zutons, Calvin Harris, Reverend & The Makers for a weekend ticket price of 25 quid? That's not a typo. Twenty. Five. Pounds. The festival's supported by Bradford Council and refreshingly, in this day and age of the festival as advertising hoarding, does not aim to make a profit. It's aimed squarely at the people of Bradford, Leeds and the surrounding areas and, fittingly, both days are sold-right-out. Like I say. Unconditional admiration.
A delayed arrival means that the sets from local bands Disco Machine Gun and The Little Black Hearts go unfortunately unseen. Sorry guys. So upon entering the could-be-purpose-made Myrtle Park arena, it's The Moons' and their bouncy good time guitar pop entertaining the gortex garbed masses. Yep. In time-honoured British festival tradition, it's pissing it down. Singer Andy Crofts in his oversized shades and shaggy mane resembles nothing so much as a teenage Ian McCulloch, all nonchalance and cool. Anyone missing the much-missed Coral could do worse than look here, people finding Arctic Monkeys' new desert-rock direction a bit much might also find solace in some of The Moons' jerkier moments. Single 'Torn Between Two' stands out, and by final song, 'Don't Go Changing', the sun is trying to poke its way through the clouds. Which is entirely appropriate. Besides all of which, the missus liked 'em. And boy, praise does not come higher than that, I can tell ya.
Whether a damp Saturday afternoon in Bingley is the perfect setting for Detroit Social Club's widescreen epic rock is open to question, but they go for it nonetheless. Theirs is a mash up of vast drum beats and immense bass, droney guitars and mantra-like vocals. Singer David Burn is a frontman from the Richard Ashcroft/Chris Robinson school of shamanic shapes, an engaging presence with a huge, huge voice. Not that that stops him from trying to deflect the attention elsewhere, pleading with a cameraman to focus on keyboard player Dale because he's the 'pretty one'. They venture a new song, 'Chemistry', introduced as being about Burn's new daughter who is 'lovely' and predominantly featuring a lyric about letting her know he'll be there. Which is nowhere near as cloying as that sounds. They finish with 'Sunshine People' with its Kasabian-ish na-na-na-ing, and the rain, surely recognising the goodwill of the good people of Bingley, packs up and goes home for the day. Sunshine people indeed.
There are a lot of bands trying to ply the trade that The Dykeenies are all about - synthy-bassy-staccato-drummy white boy indie-pop. There are some contradictions in what they're doing - lead singer Brian sings lyrics pleading 'where did it all go wrong' whilst simultaneously sounding like he doesn't have a care in the world. They've got the tunes though, and if their time's coming, it's coming now. Sadly, it's all a bit lost on Bingley who amuse themselves with a few giant sized footballs. But lads, the missus liked you, and we all know what that means now. And there's always the cake. There are only seven people in the world who will know what that means, and five of those are members of The Dykeenies. For those of you that don't...well, it's not important.
Sunshine Underground could easily get themselves lumped in with The Dykeenies and their ilk - after all the blueprint's pretty familiar. But from the outset, there's a raised energy level, a raised volume level about Sunshine Underground that sets them apart and it rewards them with the loudest crowd response of the day so far. Melding the highlights of their 'Raise The Alarm' debut ('Way It Is', 'Put You In Your Place') with newer tracks ('In Your Arms') proves a winning formula and by the end of their set it's clear Sunshine Underground are winning a lot of new friends in Bingley's sunshine on the ground. See what I did there...
OK, hands up...I'm gonna find it really hard to say anything nice about Ocean Colour Scene. Erm. They had nice jackets. Will that do?
Okay, okay. At best they're a quaint anachronism. They make the brave step of kicking off with what is surely the song most people here will remember them for, the one-riff wonder of 'The Riverboat Song' and Bingley goes...mild. Singer Simon Fowler exchanges pleasantries with the crowd, guitarist Steve Craddock busts a few Steve Marriott-ish mod moves and 15,000 people of Yorkshire tap their feet along. All very nice. Until, that is, OCS finish up with 'The Day We Caught The Train'. At which point Bingley unites in the loudest sing along you've heard in a long, long time. Seriously. Fair play to ya lads, fair play.
It escapes me now who it was, but a few years ago, a band advertised their greatest hits collection with a tagline about how you knew more of their songs than you realised. Judging by the collective expression on Bingley's face, The Zutons are another one of those bands, especially when they raise the metaphoric roof off Myrtle Park with 'Valerie'. It's interesting times for sure for the band - labelless, and now seemingly a four piece, the replacement guitarist for original ex-member Boyan Chowdury being conspicuous by his absence. And if that, at times, leaves mainman Dave McCabe with some big holes to fill guitar-wise, the rest of the band muck in with a set bristling with energy. They stick predominantly to the hits, culminating in the swampy paranoia of 'Zuton Fever' and the Scouse soul stomp of 'You Will You Won't'. They might not be the hippest name to drop, but catch them second on the bill at a festival near you and ignore them at your peril. That said, their biggest follower today is the onstage cameraman who sticks to his task of following saxophonist Abi Harding's every twitching dance move with unconcealed zeal.
Interesting times too for today's headliners, Doves. Living proof that all the critical acclaim in the world won't pay the bills, the praise heaped on the 'Kingdom of Rust' album never quite led to them, er, 'doing an Elbow.' It's kind of missing the point. Great as Elbow's 'Seldom Seen Kid' album is, anyone who says that Elbow would have crossed over the way they have even without the everyman anthem 'One Day Like This' is pretty much deluding themselves. And Doves don't really do the everyman anthem. What they do do is a neat line in euphoric, alternately rousing, alternately heartstring-yanking Mancunian melancholy (in the case of '10:03', all in the same song). Breezing through the same set they've been carting round this year's festival circuit, perhaps slightly top-heavy with songs from the 'Kingdom of Rust; album for the uninitiated, Bingley nonetheless goes for it like they've gone all day. So much so that, not that far into the set, singer/bassist Jimi Goodwin has to issue a lecture to the people getting a bit too overexcited to look out for the kids in the crowd. 'Black and White' town proves to be the one Bingley's waiting for, although 'Two of Us' with its filthy bass riff and 'Caught By The River' prove its equal. "Thank you Bingley," gawps Goodwin, "You've been f**cking blinding!", at once echoing the sentiments of all of today's bands, all of whom seem bowled over by the Bingley goodwill. 'There Goes the Fear' provides the backdrop to a mass samba, conga, okey-cokey, Goodwin on his knees by the end, genuflecting to the masses. A closing blast through Spaceface ("an old rave thing we did") and Bingley turns and heads for its beds - and if you believe that...
Tags: bingley music festival live doves ocean colour scene dykeenies detroit social club editors the zutons calvin harris
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