So as the ever expanding festival season rounds an corner and gets the finish line in site (although, there’s still a few interesting things on the horizon), it’s time for the inaugural Connect Festival – DF‘s much vaunted grown-up version of T In The Park. We can only assume that by ‘grown-up’ they were anticipating a couple loading the people carrier with the kids and commuting in each day. This is the only reason I can think of for the woefully inadequate public transport provision. When I found out that my lift had bailed out on me for the day, all those stories of the buses being sold out a week in advance that I’d poo-pooed came back to bite me on the bum. As a result, I will be leaving the festival at eight o’clock. Probably before the sun sets never mind catching any of the headlining acts.
As a result, I spend half an hour upon getting there running about trying to find the running orders for today. OK, I could’ve forked out the despicable £7 for a programme, but at the prices they’re charging for beer… For optimal band-catching, in limited a limited space of time, you need proper military like precision planning. Which is quite fitting in view of the site showers slowly making the site a striking resemblance to the Somme.
Opening for the day are Glasgow’s very own 1990s. A band that I’ve never been fully convinced about. They seem to do the good-time Stonesy R&B thing with neither the flair nor style of many a jobbing workingman’s club act. But, they’ve got friends in high places and manage to lob in the odd sweary word to make the kids feel dangerous. And, their Primal Scream-lite (now, there’s a concept that should’ve been nipped in the bud at inception) schtick seems to be exactly what’s needed to shake the cobwebs off for those just out their tents and to put the new arrivals in the mood for the day.
Often the most interesting stuff at these festivals is happening at the unsigned/up-and-coming stage. In the case of Connect, it’s the Your Sound bandstand, the usual kind of temporary staging made to look like a proper ‘bandstand’. This must have seemed like a great idea – it frames a fabulous backdrop of the castle itself. However, the wind and rain has meant that it’s needed to be shrouded in bin liners to stop anyone shorting the power to the whole site, oh, and possible frying themselves. Luckily, Rick Redbeard has come armed with gumboots. Plowing a similar furrow to Ali Roberts; taking traditional scots music and applying similar techniques to it as the proponents of alt.country did to C&W two decades ago. And, just like Mr Roberts, there’s something rather hypnotic and not unlovely about the Redeards’ take on it (he is joined on stage by sister Jo – Redbeard, I assume). A fine balance of a dark sense of humour and a deeply romantic heart.
We then move onto The Fire Engines, a band I haven’t seen since their FF endorsed resurrection. Basically, they are tight as a very tight thing, and deliver their own squiffy funk pop with unspeakable verve. They may look like a wedding band these days but still they make a sound that you can’t help bu wonder where it came from. Even with them being ripped of left right and center these days. Discord manages to blast whatever cobwebs the 1990s have left festering and Big Gold Dream seems like it’ll never be bettered in scottish music.
Back at the bandstand, we move on to the criminally low billed The Low Miffs. Currently, these guys are the band that the prospect of seeing excites me more than any other. As ever, they do not disappoint. Conquering the somewhat ropey sound they play the plastic bound platform as if they’re headliners (which soon they will be). Frontman Leo pulls off the trick of seeming like a star and all aloof like, while style engaging the crowd enough to manage to double their figures by the end of their set by catching the eye of the passing crowd and drawing them in. Charm and intelligence really should go for so much more much in this game. In which case, the louche stylings of this lot should be legend.
More resurrection men. When The Only Ones started playing again, there was a great sense of trepidation on my part. The voyeur hoped that Peter Perret was gonna be too messed up to make the gigs (for the young ‘uns imagine the disappointment when Doherty actually plays a gig), but the fanboy was dying to see this line-up live. When their gig in Glasgow was demoted from the ABC to the Garage due to lack of sales, I felt the city should hang its head in shame (a bit like Buzzcocks getting downgraded to G2 the same night the sans-Cornwell Stranglers sold out Barrowlands). After the gig, I was pleased so few had seen the shambles. Reports of the rest of the tour have been variable. Today, they erase all memories of disappointment. The kids are bouncing and not focussing too much on how ill Perrett looks. The paramedics look a bit worried, though. The new song is great. Big Sleep is awesome. When they hit Another Girl… there’s a palpable cry of “oh, them”. Closing with The Beast with the anti-drugs warning to “wait until you’re fifty and need them” is monumentous.
Back at the bandstand we meet Baillie and the Fault. At some point it is pointed out that Baillie (I’m assuming) has just qualified as a doctor. Some wag shouts out that he shouldn’t give up the day job. It’s a tight, proficient set of dull, bog standard vaguely rock tunes. Yeah, you’d trust this guy with your prostrate, just don’t let him get out his guitar.
There then ensues a period of complete confusion and poor planning (the fact that there’s now several more people in the party I’m attached to, is not unrelated). Every stage we arrive at has the band packing up or the crowd heading away from. We manage to miss The Divine Comedy but catch The Hold Steady which has to be a crime somewhere in the world, their Norman Wisdom fronting Weezer schtick gets very wearing in a very short time.
Then there’s spiritual fathers of itm?, Teenage Fanclub, a band I haven’t seen for nigh on two decades (it’s a long story). They’re brilliant. All those Bandwagonesque songs I never had time for sound fresher (to these ears) the never. I’m loving it, and suddenly by muddy docs turn to pumpkins and it’s time to go get the bus. I don’t wanna go. I feel like it’s just starting.
All in, thumbs up to the festival and the vibe. Enough great stuff to make me sad to miss the rest. Of course, I suspect the Duke Of Argyll might not be too pleased when he sees the state of his garden.
Of course, if this is the grown up festival, why is everyone so young? Maybe the success of this with all ages will highlight to DF that the kids do actually want something more than to see the latest Kaiserlight in a field of 100,000.
more photos from Connect on Flickr