I’ve finally had time to sit down and write about three awesome nights in Brighton, albeit four weeks after the fact. Better late than never. All photographs are my own. Apologies for the length. Anyway, read on!

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Since I’ve been in Europe, I’ve managed to see a few concerts. When I found out about the Great Escape Festival I knew I had to go to Brighton. As a student and low-income earner ticket prices were an issue, but thankfully it only cost me £45 (or approximately AU$95) plus the booking fee. For three nights of live music and running around a town like Brighton it would be stupid to pass up.

And so I arrived in Brighton on May 14, the day before the festival started. I was lucky enough to be fucked over by the hostel I had originally booked, Sluggies Backpackers. I walked for 20 minutes with my bags in the hot sun to this place only to find out that (according to the woman on reception) their old manager had quit two weeks earlier and had ‘forgotten’ to enter my booking in their computer system, despite taking my £25 deposit. The bastards! Eventually, proof of my booking was found in their diary and I was offered one night in a bed followed by another three on a thin mattress on the floor. After seeing the room and pointing out the fact that you couldn’t fit a mattress on their shitty floor, I reclaimed my deposit and commandeered their phone to find an alternative to this busted up excuse for a hostel. After 20 minutes I was walking back down the street to a bed in a better location. Problem solved.

After settling in my new hostel, I went for a stroll around town. Navigating Brighton’s many lanes is incredibly confusing, but the best way to do things is to get lost and surprise yourself as you come across little treasures. Eventually, I realised I should probably eat something. After a late lunch and a trip to the supermarket, I made my way to the ticket stand where I traded my ticket for a festival wristband and programme. For the most part, the programme was well laid out – a few pages filled with the usual tripe from no one you care about, followed by a well structured timetable for the coming three nights, and finally the band section, where each performer had a two or three sentence writeup. The excitement was building…

Thursday 15 May – Day One

I spent my first morning in Brighton going through the festival ritual of working out how the fuck I was going to see the bands I had flown across the world to see. As always, with so much going on at the same time, it was going to be difficult, but I had a plan and it was going to fucking work. The night started early, somewhere around 6:30pm and I headed to Volks, a bar on the beachfront under Kings Road. I made the executive decision to turn up early and see a band I had never heard of. Seeing Scarlet were billed as having a sound “somewhere between Interpol and David Bowie” – what a lie. I can’t describe their sound without using the words shit, crap, appalling or whatever else my thesaurus comes up with. The phrase “not worth your time” also comes to mind. I don’t think I’ve seen such an egotistical display in a vocalist since Axl Rose. The arrogance he displayed could do nothing but annoy me and the music did nothing to ease the pain. It was a disappointing start to the evening. But like I said, I wasn’t here for them. I had turned up early to get a good spot for We Are Wolves, a post-punky trio from Montreal. If their album was anything to go by then it was going to be a mystical live experience. Sadly, it was not be. After waiting for 10 minutes, a member of the festival staff informed those waiting that they had pulled out of their performance. After a brief moan, it was time to move on.

My festival plan hadn’t started out so well – shite followed by a no show. Alas, I had something to look forward to. I decided I’d head to the next venue early to check out another band I had never heard of. So, I walked the 10 or 15 minutes to Pressure Point. To my surprise, Leeds-based Wild Beasts were one of my favourite performers in the entire festival, a pleasant surprise indeed. Their brand of indie rock was falsetto heavy with a mixture of catchy post-punk and afrobeat rhythms. Their vocalist/guitarist’s mild disinterest in the audience only added to my curiosity at what they were on about, but I was hooked almost instantly. Highly recommended, I look forward to their debut album due in mid-June.

Following Wild Beasts‘ exciting display were L.A. DIY lads No Age. I challenge you to find me a more exciting band around, particularly from L.A. As soon as I found out that these guys were performing at the festival my heart skipped a beat. And when the speakers rumbled with their visceral brand of noise punk, my heart skipped another beat. That’s right, it was love. Dean and Randy could do nothing but smile throughout their time on stage and it was infectious. Standing up front next to a speaker stack was the best decision I could have made that night. As they joyfully played their way through tracks off their new album, Nouns, I became somewhat euphoric. By the end of their set, I could feel the smile on my face saying it all – fucking brilliant. I’ve heard some criticism about their DIY roots and the attention being lavished upon them, but whatever you have to say it’s impossible to deny their infectious positivity and deceptively simple yet incredible music. And they deserve all the attention they can get.

After indulging in the No Age live experience, I rushed over to the Spiegel Tent to see the dreampop duo Beach House. Admittedly, I arrived a tad late, but not enough to spoil the experience. The lighting as low and the mood a little weird thanks to Victoria Legrand’s odd, but amusing, ranting. And so they played their way through a selection of spacious and soulful tracks that had the small audience swaying and generally enjoying the cosy atmosphere. The hype over these two is well worth it. If this little treat was anything to go by, you can bet I’m going to see their headline show.

From here, the live entertainment for the night ended prematurely. I was going to head to the Barfly to see Yeasayer and The Ting Tings, but the festival’s disorganisation kicked in. After talking to a few festival patrons and looking at the official festival figures, I’ve found out that over 10000 tickets were sold to members of the public. If you then include all the performers, delegates and staff, you’re looking at another 2500 tickets, at least. The festival structure was such that the majority of acts were playing between 6pm and 10pm. After 10pm the number of acts dropped dramatically, so much so that by 11:30pm there were only three venues with festival acts. Think of it – that’s thousands of festival-goers wanting to get their money’s worth by attending festival events, rather than going to a venue outside the festival schedule. So, getting back to my evening, by the time I left Beach House and arrived at the Barfly (a less than 10 minute walk), the venue was full and the line outside numbered somewhere in the vicinity of 500 at the very least. With a capacity of only 450 people, getting into the Barfly would have meant waiting for at least two hours – an experience I’d rather not have. And so my first night of the Great Escape Festival was over, although not before finding a small bar crammed with punters and satisfying a travellers thirst.

Friday 16 May – Day Two

Setting aside the details of my day leading up to the second night of the festival, I was still feeling a little cheated by the disorganisation of late night events. Nevertheless, I was determined to get the full Great Escape experience and headed out early once again. I strolled down to the Kings Road Arches and wandered into the Brighton Coalition, a more upmarket venue then Volks (a couple of doors down). I was pleasantly surprised by the first band to entertain the crowd that night. Unfortunately, their name wasn’t advertised and instead they were billed as the winner of some Red Stripe new music contest. Nevertheless, they entertained the growing audience and even earned their respect after dealing very well with some sound problems. The vocalist and lead guitarist even left the stage and danced around the crowd with his ukulele when the microphones cut out. It felt very piratey – ar!

Since the first band of the evening had topped the first effort from Thursday night, I was in high spirits. Well, it was either that or because I was really looking forward to seeing Born Ruffians. Thankfully I didn’t have to move and the wait in between bands was incredibly short – hoorah! I must admit I stared oddly at Luke Lalonde (vocals/guitar) for a while. I was curious about his style – the woolen jumper and boat shoes just didn’t do it for me. Then he came back with a shirt, rolled up his sleeves and all was right again. Enough about style, this is about music. Born Ruffians didn’t disappoint. They bounced around the stage like children on a jumping castle – their enthusiasm was infectious. Their indie-rock-meets-afrobeat rhythms and jangly guitar were a delight to see in the flesh. If anything, their set was too short, but that’s what you get from a festival – something to whet your appetite, not engulf it. Thank you Canada.

And so my encounter with the Brighton Coalition was over. I wandered up the road to Revenge, one of the city’s LGBT venues, but for the festival it was home to some incredible punk and noise bands. First up were English youngsters Rolo Tomassi. For such a young band (at the time their vocalist was still 17 and the other members were all under 21) they were fucking impressive. They kicked ten shits out of any teenage band in your neighbourhood as they pummeled their genre-bending prog-punk into the crowd. They’ve just recorded an album, which will hopefully be released by year’s end.

20 minutes later, Canada delivered another amazing band – AIDS Wolf, from Montreal. I’d been waiting to see them for some time, and knowing that they’ll probably never make it to Australia, I couldn’t miss this opportunity. It was a strange, eerie set. Disappointingly, there weren’t many people around, at least to begin with. The band donned their khaki uniforms and begin destroying the universe as vocalist Chloe Lum creeped around in black cape and unitard, doing her best not to look anyone in the eye. AIDS Wolf have at one time described their sound as “a squid eating dough in a polyethylene bag”. Whatever the fuck they sound like, I want more. See this band.

After the debacle that was late night Thursday, I headed to the Barfly early, where NME were hosting more late night entertainment. To my surprise, there was no line and instead people streamed out of the venue. This was my chance. I walked inside, ordered a beer and camped in front of the stage. After what was a stupidly long wait in between acts, Friendly Fires kicked it off. I can’t say I fell in love. To me, they were a poor alternative to The Rapture. You could tell with just about everything they were doing. That said, the crowd lapped it up, bigtime. They were enjoyable, but nothing exceptional.

I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised by the variety of genres in the late night lineup. After the disco-rock of Friendly Fires, we were in for a subdued gothic experience from Ipso Facto. Think: The Horrors, but way moodier, and far less erratic. Channeling early Cure and Wednesday Addams (not mine), with their style and that awesome organ sound there was something refreshing about them.

By this time it was approaching 2am and the crowd was getting a little restless. It was time for Black Lips. The flower punks had taken their sweet time in getting to the stage, albeit because of technical difficulties, but once they started you’d have to have been a quadriplegic to be standing still. It was clear that Ian was fucked out of his mind, and the rest of the band were obviously drunk, but that only made things better. They stormed their swampy, doo-wop, bluesly garage punk like, well, themselves. I can’t think of anyone quite like them. Can I have some more please?

And after all that, in a satisfying haze of distortion, beer and sweat, the second night was over.

Saturday 17 May – Day Three

The last of the three days was here. Even after an exhausting 8 hours the previous night, I could only welcome my chosen lineup for the evening. Like the other nights, I would be encountering bands that I had never heard of before, which I must admit is as exciting as it is daunting – could it be a waste of time? Only time would tell. So I set off in a good mood. It was drizzling rain, but I was on the other side of the world, it was my birthday and I would be seeing some of my favourite new bands all in one evening.

After walking some distance in the rain, I arrived at the Old Market in the west side of town. They hadn’t opened up yet and a couple of hundred people were left to soak outside, snaking their way down the street. Soon the doors opended, we grabbed a beverage or two and took up our positions. The opener for the evening was School of Language, side project of David Lewis from Field Music. Unfortunately for them, I don’t think there were many punters there to see them. However, I’d say they had won over a number of souls by the end with their laid back brand indie rock. I can’t quite think who they remind me of, but it was a pleasant way to start the evening. Nothing too abrasive for a rainy Saturday in Brighton.

From my observations, I’d say that the crowd in the Old Market were made up of two groups – two thirds were a primarily young, “hip” crowd their to swoon over Dev Hynes, and the rest taken up by older men there to reconnect with their psychedelic roots via Black Mountain. Very amusing. Personally, I was there for Lightspeed Champion. Dev came out on his own, complete with large furry hat, his amp decorated with some tape in the form of ‘LOL’ (tres amusement). Dev then ran through some highly entertaining versions of songs from his new album. A seriously grunge version of ‘Midnight Surprise’ and, well, everything else. He even brought out a kazoo for a track or two. Unfortunately, I think he alienated those wanting to see a recreation of the album, but it refreshing to see him recreate the songs you’ve heard the same way a dozen times.

After Dev’s solo effort, I hurried back through to Kings Road and to Digital. I was getting there early to try and catch some of Santogold’s set. When I finally got there, much to my surprise, Santogold had morphed into some incredibly annoying trio from northern England – The Rascals. I wasn’t very happy, and I wasn’t the only one. Listening to them, all I could think of was the Arctic Monkeys (who I despise). They were just so fucking arrogant. Seriously – go away.

Finally they did and I could settle myself front and centre for These New Puritans. There was a slight delay before the band took to stage, but it was fucking worth it. Ever since discovering These New Puritans I’ve had this desire to see how they do it live. Jack (vocals/guitar) was, as he puts it, ’spitting the code’. The whole band was on fire. Sophie (synths) stayed hidden in the back, but kept everything going while the other three tore a hole time-space continuum. They’re touring Australia in August and I can’t fucking wait.

I had a choice ahead of me now – get to the Pressure Point early for the late night slot or rush to Hectors House to catch something new. Since TGE was all about new, I chose the latter. I arrived at Hectors House just as Esser were due to start. As usual, they were running late. I’d heard only a little about Esser and I was intrigued to say the least. They played their way through some delightful dancey tracks, with some interesting instrumentation and damn fine clothes. Overall, something worth checking out.

Phew! That was fun. I made my way up to Pressure Point for the final late night package. When I got there the line for the door freaked me out. My back was already killing me from two and a half nights on my feet, but I waited anyway. Things finally got moving and I was upstairs in time to see Flykiller. In all honesty, I saw nothing new in them. It was like Goldfrapp-meets-The Kills, and not in a good way. So, I sat down to rest my aching spine and paid them little attention.

Next up were Ohio-based trio Times New Viking. I don’t know where the name comes from, but I’d had them recommended to me by more than one festival patron, so I was excited to learn they were playing three times throughout the festival. Theirs was superb trashy lo-fi indie rock. It was an absolute delight next to the boredom of Flykiller. Smashing their way through 30 minutes of solid music – no filler. They released a new album in January on Matador Records. Check it out.

My mood was as high as it could be after three nights on my feet, trudging around a seaside town, dancing to excellent music and waiting through the bad. But the end of the festival experience was something I was really looking forward to. I was going to watch Semifinalists – a band I never thought I’d see unless I made it to England. Like others before them, they were running late. There was a surprise. Ferry went on stage joined by two others that were not Chris and Adriana. Suddenly these amazing hip hop beats fucking pounded through the speakers and the two strangers began rapping. Ferry joined in from time to time, but danced the whole way through. It was incredible, especially at 2am. This lasted only 10 minutes (not long enough!) before the sound went down, Chris organised his stuff and the real Semifinalists took to the stage (minus Adriana who has moved back to the US.

Chris and Ferry then hammered their way through a selection dreamy distortion-heavy tracks from their forthcoming album. It was amazing. It was like Chris was channeling Kevin Shields. They played so loud the speakers were fucked, but it was worth every moment. Dance your fucking heart out, Ferry Gouw!

And that was that. The Great Escape in Brighton was over for 2008. Overall, it’s the best festival experience I’ve had so far. That said, I am attending Glastonbury in two weeks time. Nevertheless, I wish I could afford to attend next year – it’s sure to be just as exciting.

Effenaar headhuncho’s Tom Ketelaar en Robert Schaeffer bloggen vanuit Brighton over het Great Escape showcase festival waar meer dan 300 opkomende bands in drie dagen over meer dan dertig locaties spelen.

Day 1.

Na een overweldigend mooi concert van Coco Rosie in onze eigen Effenaar woensdag nacht veel te laat in bed om donderdag ochtend om 5 uur de wekker te horen afgaan. Met een brak hoofd om zes uur op station Eindje Centraal om daar vol goede moed naar Schiphol te vretekken. Maar de NS zou de NS niet zijn als ze onze trein niet eerst 10, dan 15, dan 20, dan 25 minuten vertraging laten hebben, om hem vervolgens helemaal uit de dienstregeling te halen. FUCK! daar gaat ons half uur om van de trein op tijd bij de incheckbalie te komen! We gaan door die fucking NS onze fuckin Flight missen! Bollocks!

Aangekomen op schiphol hebben we nu maar liefst 3 minuten om naar de incheckbalie te komen en eindelijk snappen we waarom dat vliegveld zo heet: Hollen geblazen!! Maar gelukkig kunnen we nog op de valreep inchecken en zijn we verzekerd van 2 stoelen in ons Easyjet vliegtuigje. Daar kan meteen het netwerken beginnen met ex-Effenaar geluidsman/programma assistent/secretariaats medewerker en tegenwoordig PIAS held Leon HP die naast ons zit. Goeie oude tijden herleven met het ophalen van herinneringen over Dave Sardy’s Barkmarket.

Brighton! Beroemd om zijn Fatboy Slims, Blood Red Shoes, Piers (eentje totaal verwoest en de andere verkermist), de intieme Lanes vol alternatief winkelplezier en de Taj Mahal achtige Royal Dome Pavilion en omliggende tuinen.

The Brighton Pier

The Great Escape! Na een fine shopping spree met veel vinyl scores (alle bands brengen hier gewoon platen en singles uit!) gaat het festival voor ons dan eindelijk beginnen. Tenminste dat dachten we. Want bij aankomst in The Volks (een van de mooigelegen clubs onder de boulevard aan de zee) bleek favorieten We Are Wolves helemaal niet te spelen. We kregen nu met een half uur vertraging Seeing Scarlet voorgeschoteld die volgens het boekje ‘glistering Depeche Mode mystery’ en ‘ Interpol Eerie’ en ‘ Cure killer hooks’ zouden brengen maar in de praktijk gewoon een derderangs REM achtige schoolband was zonder ook maar een grijntje uitsraling of magie.

Cadence Weapon’s dj

Op naar The Revenge waar waar de upcoming Hiphop held Cadence Weapon nog lang niet klaar was om op tijd te beginnen. Gelukkig heeft The Revenge een tweede zaal waar we verrast werden door het piepjonge The More Assured. Netjes volgens het momenteel zeer populaire dansbare britpop boekje, dat wel, maar vol enthousiasme gebracht. De band heeft goede looks met als bonus feature een piepjonge Phil Lynott op bas. Daarna weer terug naar boven voor de sensatie van de avond Cadence Weapon (boeken ZXZW!!) uit Canada (boeken Le Guess Who!!). Samen met een bebaarde metal Viking als scratcher zette de opgefokte rapper de zaal vanaf minuut 1 totaal op de kop. Vette bassen, dikke dance beats en opgefokte rhymes. Wij schreeuwden nog de hele nacht ‘ We’ve made a deal today, We’re selling real estate, we made a deal today, we’re selling HOUSES !’ Daar worden wij gelukkig van

Op naar The Barfly voor een potje noorse chaos rock van Ungdomskulen (niet te verwarren met Slagmalsklubben). Battles meets Foals voor metalkids op de campingdisco. Nog niet overtuigend genoeg om de britse indie meisjes aan de barrier gekluisterd te houden. Het laaste nummer ‘ Spartacus’ werd dan ook opgedragen aan de enkele overgebleven ‘believers’ in de zaal.

Tijdens het wachten op de Video Nasties viel het ons opeens op dat we fris roken en dat we nog geen prikkende traanogen hadden van de doorgaanse blauwe walm die we zo gewend zijn bij dit soort concertjes. Rookvrij rocknroll is the bomb!! We kijken uit naar 1 juli. Roken mochten de verslaafde outcasts, buiten bij de pinautomaat in een met een koordje afgezet stukje. Het was dan ook niet erg druk daar.

Terug bij de Video Nasties bleek maar weer eens dat veel Engelse bands zich eerst een imago, super cool cool logo en mega hippe t-shirts bedenken voordat men gaat werken aan een een stukje goede muziek. Deze jongetjes, nog nat achter de oren, zouden eens wat minder de NME moeten lezen en wat meer hun best moeten doen nummers te bedenken die beklijven.

Om de hoek staat de ons bekende Spiegel Tent waar de amerikaanse blog sensatie Beach House nog geen deuk in een pakje boter slaat.

Late of the Pier

Snel terug naar The Barfly om een trap onder onze konten te krijgen van Late Of The Pier. Ze zijn een super energiek stelletje jongemannen die als een Talking Heads on speed meets Klaxons klinken. Zeer vindingrijke breaks, koortjes, rifjes en de hele Barfly staat te springen van jewelste. We snappen nu opeens waarom er een barrier staat in een zaaltje van 250 man. Deze engelse kids weten hoe je een feestje bouwt! Er wordt massaal gecrowdsurfed, geslamdanced en met bier gegooid. Wat een energie! Super!

Na 20 uur wakker te zijn besluiten we naar het hotel te gaan. Voor ons geen nachtelijke shows van The Go! Team, Ting Tings of Yeasayer meer, die hebben we al gezien of zien we wel op Lowlands of de Nederlandse clubs. De schade halen we vrijdag dubbel en dwars in.

Conclusie van day 1: Vertraging blijkt het sleutelwoord van de dag als het gaat om planningen van treinreizen of festivals, maar sommige Engelse bands zouden juist wat meer tijd voor hun muziek of stage performance mogen nemen voordat ze rond gaan schreeuwen hoe hip en geweldig ze wel niet zijn.