REVIEW: END OF THE ROAD FESTIVAL 2011
Regular readers of 247 Magazine will know that I am a BIG End of the Road fan, regularly declaring it’s superiority to the ever-growing cache of other festivals in the UK and indeed the world but as I dragged my shit along a rocky path to the newly situated campsite my love began to wane. And it was all change at End of the Road this year. Numbers have been creeping up for the past few years and we now have double the number of musos as we did back in 2007 when the festival first started (it’s still one of the smaller festivals with less than 10,000 people mind). With that, comes the need for extra infrastructure – which sparks the shifting of the campsite to make way for a purpose built main stage. This was never going to compare to the delight of the former main stage, this year’s Garden Stage, tucked away in the woods but to be fair to the organisers it was a pretty good setting (although the sound was a tad sketchy in places).
Over the years, End of the Road has picked up a well deserved, dedicated following of music fans. Without wanting to sound snobby about it, you won’t find chavvy teens there who only want to get shitfaced, you won’t find ream of spoilt brats called Tarquin munching on pitta and hummous and you won’t find ‘mad fer it’ accountants in jester hats. What you will find are a lot of men with beards, girls with Sharpie tashes and no end of potential life-long friends. This year’s festival was a week earlier than previous ones and this ensured a whole weekend of blazing sunshine, much to the disappointment, no doubt, of the Somerset Cider Bus whose signature hot and spicy cider was surplus to requirements until the Sunday evening.
It’s not just the festival goers who can instantly appreciate the greatness of this festival, but the bands themselves, most of whom keep coming back and many of whom commented on how wonderful it was to be there and, with the exception of a very sarcastic Daniel Lefkowitz, genuinely did mean it. This year’s line up was one of the most diverse in the festival’s history though, in my opinion, they fell down when it came to the Sunday night headliner, Joanna Newsom. For those of you who don’t know Newsom, she is a very attractive, softly spoken, twee harpist. Like Marmite, you’re either gonna love her or hate her and there’s no real scope to just tolerate her. Me, I’ve tried four times to ‘get’ Joanna Newsom, but I just don’t, so I headed away from the main stage to find something else to do – and boy was I disappointed; for while Ms Newsom was on there was fuck all else on (a clause in her contract I’m told). So, I found myself wandering aimlessly around the woods with hundreds of other EOTR-ers for an hour or so while the harp playing Smurf did her thing. Of course, there were plenty of people who did enjoy it but it’s a arrogant assumption that everyone will want to see such a specific act. It truly did divide the festival, which was a real shame.
Thankfully, Brakes came to save Sunday night with a raucous set in The Local, which culminated in their cover of Johnny Cash’s Jackson, during which the lovely ladies wot sand June Carters bit crowd surfed. Boom. Then Slow Down, Molasses took over and slipped in a cover of Neutral Milk Hotel’s In An Aeroplane Over The Sea. Not a patch on the original, but nice to hear it, vaguely, in this setting. The party then moved to the disco in the woods, as it had every night of this festival. The disco comprised a wonderful light up dancefloor and some DJ decks in a boat. Friday night, Richard Hawley took to the decks and played an obscure set of stuff very few people knew. Saturday was much better with some London indie DJs rocking the party with the likes of Prince, The Smiths and White Stripes then Sunday it was the turn of some Mick Jagger lookalike who clearly loved his Northern Soul, but then, so did we.
The musical highlight, without a shadow of a doubt, came in the form of Midlake. This was their only UK festival performance of the year and it felt truly special. They played a good mix of stuff from Trials of Van Occupanther and Courage of Others, including the iconic Roscoe and the heartwarming Acts of Man but it was their new tune, The Morrow, which really impressed. With impeccable harmonies and inspirational lyrics these guys make you want to weep, but in a good way. What’s more, they have the most stylish bassist you’ve ever seen. Many people thought they’d hot foot it over to the Garden stage to play with label mate John Grant and while they were supporting their bud at the side of the stage they left him to enjoy the limelight. The openness and love emanating from John Grant is infectious. With such courage and candour he dances through a set of tragic, yet uplifting melancholia – including the beautiful ballad, I Wanna Go To Marz. Outstanding.
And he wasn’t the only solo male artist to make grown men (and women) cry this weekend. Josh T Pearson may have nailed the comedy part of his set with some positively filthy jokes, but it does not deter from the fact that his music is just heartbreaking. His stark set up (it’s just him, some exceptional fingerpicking and his voice) compliments the loneliness behind his songs perfectly. M Ward also induced a couple of sobs, with one woman confessing she was weeping throughout. Then there was Phosphorescent, with his adoringly fragile voice telling stories of love and loss. All three were on the Garden stage, the most perfect setting for such music. Saying that, Willy Mason, whose grown up a hell of a lot since he wowed people with Oxygen, aged just 18, did a decent Sunday afternoon set on the main stage (Woods stage).
For the women, we had the awesomely innovative tUnEyArDs. Her spellbinding command of her voice and her instruments never ceases to amaze. This time, she was flanked by a couple of cute guys in colourful outfits with supplementary instruments. She would’ve picked up a load more fans during this set, and deservedly so. There was also Jolie Holland, Laura Marling and Joan as Policewoman but for me the female flag was being well and truly flown by This is the Kit and Emmy the Great. This is the Kit looked genuinely surprised to see a packed out tent for her lunchtime set and had to ask people to move forward so more ears could come in. Her dreamy, classically trained vocals were softened even more by the modern folk edge of her songs and I’ve never seen the metal sword played so tunefully. A definite festival highlight. Emmy the Great’s grown up and her new material has a lot more substance and soul, but her youthful honey-toned vocals remain. Sadly her intersong banter left a lot to be desired but she’s so beautiful it didn’t matter. You can’t have it all huh?!
The Big Top was home to some of the heavier stuff, including Mogwai, Bob Log III and EOTR favourites Drum Eyes, featuring resident EOTR artist/tattoist Kai on guitar. Drum Eyes opened proceedings on the Friday with their unique soundscape of heavy drums and guitars, keys and eerie wails but it’s their showmanship which always captures the imagination (and last year formed the biggest mosh pit/crowd surf free-for-all of the festival). For a more chilled out vibe on the afternoons, the Local was the place to be with the likes of She Keeps Bees and Futur Primitif (formerly known as Daniel Lefkowitz).
Finally, how could we forget Beirut, whose exotic sounding, accordion-led indie summed up the whole festival vibe nicely. Frontman Zach Condon came back on for a couple of encores before being reluctantly led away by security to a torrent of boos. And then there was Welsh favourite Gruff Rhys (from the Super Furry Animals). His adorable stage persona and unique staccato delivery of songs which sit just the right side of twee made for a very smiley crowd; and that’s before he even got out his big banners saying ‘Applause’ etc. One song also required some recorder accompaniment, hell I ain’t ever seen a recorder played that well before. Kudos to Gruff’s band.
So all in all, another top festival – albeit with a few concerns from us old timers who really don’t want to see EOTR turn into another Green Man. Not that there’s anything wrong with Green Man, quite the contrary, but it’s one thing being inspired by something and another thing copying it completely. Guess only time will tell.
Words and photos: Laura Williams
