Lowlands 2007
At a festival it’s inevitable that you’ll see fewer bands as the weekend progresses and your physical condition and dependence upon certain substances increases. But this didn’t get in the way of what was a wonderful festival with barely any rain, lots of showers, great music and even better crowds.
Friday
After having fatally underestimated the state of my hangover and the lengths of the queues and my friend’s legs, we ended up missing the first half of Rodrigo Y Gabriela’s set, which was a crying shame, as they rocked as hard as two people armed with acoustic guitars possibly could. For about the first ten minutes I was looking to see where the rest of the band was, as they simultaneously thumped their guitars and picked out beautiful melodies to create one of the most intriguing sounds I’ve ever heard. The screens behind them magnified what they were doing so you could really appreciate the immense skill and intricacy of what their fretwork. Anyone that can mix a Pink Floyd singalong with Metallica and Led Zeppelin covers whilst dazzling with their acoustic pyrotechnics deserves the rapturous reception they got and more. Gabriela’s endearing habit of lifting her guitar above her head to acknowledge the applause made you love them even more, as did Rodrigo uttering only ten words during the set – “Are you ready? I said, are you FUCKING ready?” Genius.
Next up was Dizzee Rascal. It’s always fascinating to see how people that are big in your home country are received abroad, especially in hip hop, where the artist feeds off the crowd’s reaction, and further more in such a polarizing genre as grime. From the first burst of ‘Jus’ a Rascal’ it was obvious that he was going to go down a storm as the crowd went mad. The tracks off Boy in da Corner sound as fresh as they did 4 years ago with ‘Fix up look sharp’ still killing it. His latest album, Maths & English, deepened his already broad sound to include Drum and Bass and a collaboration with the Artic Monkeys, with the d&b working much better live than the Artic’s track which was the only false step in an otherwise banging set. Sometimes during crowd pleasers like Sirens and Old Skool, it’s easy to concentrate on the beats rather than what a gifted MC Dizzee is. He’s always been at the top of the UK scene, but it looks like the rest of the world is in tune with him now as well.
The greatest thing about festivals is discovering new bands completely by chance. That’s how I found Tinariwen, as I was aimlessly strolling about before being lured in by their laidback guitar grooves. It felt like that bit in The Big Lebowski where the Dude gets drugged and starts hallucinating, particularly when I actually entered the tent and was presented with people from the Sahara in full desert dress. They mix hypnotic vocals and guitar lines with a bass player who has no right to be that funky. Their evident joy at being so well received by the crowd was genuinely touching and it was a theme that was to be repeated across the weekend.
I exited sharply to check out Jamie T, the less said about whom, the better. His first song, Second Hand Bass Guitar got things off to a frenetic start, but after a few songs things began to pall. Calm Down Dearest and Sheila stood too much from what was an ordinary set. I did see my first ever live trashing of an instrument, but true to form this didn’t go to plan, with Jamie T lacking the strength to break his guitar, so he just threw into the drum kit instead. I don’t think anyone wanted an encore anyway.
Thankfully it was one of the highlights of the festival next - Bonde do Role. It’s amazing that a group who perform in Portuguese can captivate an entire a tent of people and get people singing along as well to receive the best reaction of the weekend. From the first moment they appeared on stage provocatively holding bananas and asked us if we did actually like banana, they had us in the palm of their hand. It’s all about having fun with them, it doesn’t matter if the sample comes from Grease or The Final Countdown, as long as it rocks. And all their stuff does. Their willingness to adapt/use anything reached its peak when the girl opened a tampon that had been thrown on stage, wet it then whirled it triumphantly round her head before launching it back in the crowd. I’ve rarely enjoyed myself so much at a gig.
Saturday
Saturday lunchtime is a graveyard shift if ever there was one, but for C-Mon and Kypski the Bravo tent was packed out by 12.30. C&K pulled out all the stops for a show that’s only possible at a festival. I mean, they’re good when it’s just the four of them, so when they’re joined by the Amsterdam Klezmer Band, Voicst and Pete Philly, you’re in for something really, really special. It felt like the celebration of everything they’ve done so far, before they take off for the next stage of their career, which is surely world domination…
I’m never sure where there’s a constant need to label bands at a festival, but then again, I doubt I’d have checked out The Black Seeds unless I’d read the ‘funk/soul/dub/reggae/kitchen sink’ descriptor that accompanied their entry in the programme. And I’d have missed out on something quite special. The amount of styles that their music contains does mean that some of their songs get a little confused, but they’re gifted with an exceptional lead guitarist, a great percussionist and a tight rhythm and horn section who could rescue any song. It was their instrumental tracks and jams that worked best as it gave them free rein to propel each other to scale funkier and faster heights rather than being constrained to backing their slightly limited lead singer. Still, that never stopped The Stone Roses.
In a lot of ways CSS are the ultimate festival band – they’ve got a cute singer who happily dispenses with her clothing and loves crowd surfing, a setlist that means you’ll be dancing and grinning no matter how try you hard to resist and a wish to simply have a good time. The stage was festooned with balloons just so you knew you were at a party, in case you didn’t when Lovefoxx and her cohorts bounced on stage firing streamers and promising us treats if we were good. They barely let up for the next hour before ending with the anthemic ‘Let’s make love and listen to death from above’ which had the whole crowd making heart signs with their hands before they departed in a balloon popping frenzy.
Sunday
I thought The Whitest Boy Alive would be the perfect group for a laidback, sunny afternoon – nice grooves, nice harmonies, bit funky, nothing too heavy. As the disconcertingly geeky and pale kicked into their set, it looked like I’d be able to chill a bit. The band, and crowd, had other ideas. If there’s one thing the band’s not afraid of, it’s looking slightly ridiculous, so even the tamest of their songs were transformed into (almost) snarling dancefloor anthems. The sound might have been slightly kitsch, the bass player might have been running on the spot all the time, the keyboard player might have looked like a reject from the Soviet Navy, but they rocked. And it was enormous fun. Witness the other member of the band’s valiant but futile attempts to match Oye’s falsetto on Don’t give up, and the keyboard player jumping and jiving on his Rhodes during Burning. The crowd’s reaction more than matched the fireworks on stage, and the band, not for the first time at Lowlands, seemed genuinely overwhelmed and touched by it all. If this is what Lowlands is all about, then I’m coming back every year.