Day 3. If you were playing and don't get a mention, it's for one of the following reasons.
1. I missed you cause I was watching something else
2. You were crap/defective/dickheads, and not worth seeing again
3. I couldn't be arsed
In the case of the Punk lineup on stage 2 today, it's option 3; Only 1 (today at least) is in option 2; Option 1 is extensive.
Leopold Tears - after about 4 comments of "they sound fantastic from here", I finally managed to get to stage 1. Emergenza Belgium 2013 winners (apparently), the 1/2 song that I heard was an immaculately executed Muse-like rock anthem.
Oh - Bugger - Early start -Could have had some more of that.
Subsonic Hornet - A band I know quite well. A band whose fine blend of simultaneously subtle and ultra-violent guitar blends sort of suggest Sonic Youth. A band whose acerbic lyrics suggest gratifying retaliation against the drabness of the everyday. A band that draws me in and spits me out like the bitter cynicism of a Fonctionnaire condemned to seek meaningless resolve in some lost emotional tangent somewhere on the other side of a galaxy far, far away. Duck! Imperial fighters!
A mention for Dirty Bees on stage 2, as their brass section caught me for a minute there. I could have stayed for the whole of their ska-punk set were it not for a more 'pressing' 'call' that 'had to be attended to'.
Le Baron 5 - I like a lot. Dancy, happy post-punkedness with lead synth instead of guitar. I just can't fathom how I managed to miss all but 2 songs. Festivalitus.
Kaizer Place, just in case you read the grossly over-hyped bio (the only reason why they're getting a mention – it’s such bullshit it deserves putting into perspective), were flat as a fart. They had by far the smallest attendance of any of the 4 stages throughout their set. The burger bar had better attendance. (and if you ask me, was considerably more palatable).
Thot - What a glorious cacophony this is. I have nothing, really, to compare this semi-organic industrial noise to, but it is such a detailed, intense, well put together act that I'm just in awe of it. The performance, the orchestration (2 synths/drums/guitar/bass) are all superb, yet I frustratingly don't feel the emotional connection to the music that I feel I should have. Somehow not quite my thing, though I can’t quite work out why. But they are fantastic musicians led by an extremely charismatic front-man, and were a popular choice with the punters.
I popped over the road to discover that the over-friendly nutter who’d been prancing around in a state of somewhat gay and inebriated abandon in front of Thot is the drummer / singer with Body Juice. An – err – eventful performance, interesting musically, and frightfully entertaining for the rest. The trio of guitar, bass and Octopad have no programmed backing or drum machines, so spontaneity is de rigueur. Like spontaneously spilling beer over the bassist, knocking him over whilst licking it off and having to sprint off to the bar to get a refill; spontaneously jumping off stage to run round the block in an attempt to find the bastard who had nicked Judith, the band’s mascot (a nude clothes dummy – also legless); spontaneously pausing the set so the bassist could go for a pee; spontaneously hitting the wrong program on the Octopad and not quite noticing that it somewhat threw the song. But that’s all right, as the format allows for that sort of thing.
The musical interludes were catchy and original, and the band is to be commended for putting up with each other’s advanced state of intoxication. A respectable and merry audience suggests I’m not the only one thinking this could be worth catching when they’re a bit more together. Or maybe not…
26 Tears – With a bass player something between Plastic Bertrand and Steve Severin, a drummer who might once have sported the good looks of Patrick Swaze, a large purple baby-doll geisha with the most vivacious fountains of hair, and the ever cheery Floch, who later explained that his unique guitar style came from coping with sciatica on stage, it is no surprise that this lot are finely tweaked and tight as gnat’s chuff. The amps, of similar vintage to the band, belch out a glorious racket reminiscent of the Banshees at their turning point between Punk and Goth. Reagan’s voice is also worthy of Siouxie comparison, and cuts through the evening with an almost casual recklessness. All in all, a mighty fine way to finish off the festival.