REVIEW: ATP I’LL BE YOUR MIRROR, CURATED BY PORTISHEAD, IN LONDON (JULY 23-24, 2011)
The ATP franchise has been going from strength to strength in recent years, and what started off as a couple of party-filled weekends in a holiday camp on the coast has now become one of the must follow festivals. This was their first event at London’s Alexandra Palace and despite a few teething problems (centred around one way pedestrian systems and mammoth queues) it went off with an inevitable bang. That bang being the force to be reckoned with that is Bristol’s most famous musical export, Portishead.
Beth Gibbons, Geoff Barrow and Adrian Utley were responsible for curating this two-day line up of music and indeed headlining both nights. For those of us lucky enough to make it to Primavera back in May, it was another chance to see former lovers and exceptional musicians PJ Harvey and Nick Cave perform on the same bill again. For those who weren’t, then it was a solid introduction to some of the most inspiring and captivating music of the modern day.
Alexandra Palace is an odd place. It’s a beautiful old palatial residence overlooking North London and ATP made the most of the green and pleasant surrounds by hosting a Rose Garden stage, just a short walk (around a long one way system) away from the main venue. It was here you could chill out in the sunshine to the sound of some old 20s records. Bliss. Of course, you couldn’t possibly spend the whole weekend doing that with the likes of Beach House, Godspeed You Black Emperor and The Books playing indoor sets – saying that, Godspeed was so oversubscribed many people could only listen outside the door to what was going on inside.
But for most, this weekend was all about the big three – Portishead, PJ Harvey and Grinderman. You’d think that seeing the same band play a similar set on two consecutive nights would be a bit dull, especially a band as mellow as Portishead, but you’d be completely wrong. Beth Gibbon’s ability to pour her soul into every pitch perfect, heart-wrenching lyric made for the most magnetising performance I’ve seen in a while. Flanked by the awesome Geoff Barrow and Adrian Utley, their eerie yet comforting sound filled the whole venue. Their newer material, including Nylon Smile and Threads, was just as well received as the old favourites – think Sour Times and Cowboys and their cover of John Martyn’s Glory Box was impeccable. But it was the melancholic tear-jerker Roads which really brought the house down. Spine-tinglingly beautiful.
PJ Harvey is like a fine wine, she just keeps getting better in age. Putting aside the fact that she looks stunning and has maintained her adorable soft Dorset twang, her songs have as much clout as her earlier Rid Of Me era material just minus the angst. Her crystal clear vocals and wry demeanor made songs from her recent album Let England Shake (This Glorious Land and On Battleship Hill among others) absolutely spellbinding. She also rattled off (not in a negative way mind) a couple of crowd pleasers including Angelene and Down By The Water – though there was a notable lack of songs from my favourite album of hers, Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea. Nevertheless, the hall was jam packed, so much so that I didn’t catch one glimpse of her until the very end, and everyone seemed to have been swept away into a dreamland. Powerful stuff.
From sweet female vocals to angry and undeniably sexy male vocals, we move onto Nick Cave’s Grinderman. The energy oozing from that stage when Cave and his counterpart Warren Ellis jaunt around is electric. Cave knows how to put on a show. He did it with the Bad Seeds and he’s doing it here with Grinderman. Unphased by the adulation, he perpetually leans over into the crowd, giving fans a completely overwhelming experience. Spitting the lyrics to the highly-charged songs Kitchenette and Heathen Child, all eyes are on him, and so they should be. The man is sex. And when he wails he’s got the No Pussy Blues, you can’t help thinking that’s one big lie – how could someone who emits sex as much as this man ever have to endure a dry spell? It makes no sense.
But the festival didn’t end there. Late night sets from Factory Floor and Caribou rounded off the nights, though many people were long gone by the time they took to the stage in a bid to catch the last tube home. Myself included. For video highlights, click HERE.
Words: Laura Williams
Photos: Christian Gabriel
