You know the old cliche / adage about the longest day of your life?
Usually applied to waiting for, say, exam results, or maybe the birth of a child. Maybe the arrival of the Messiah. TRNSMT is, for some, shaping up to be just that. What you’d call a ‘broad’ lineup means, except for anyone with the most Catholic of musical tastes, some long gaps in the schedule between the must-see acts. Including, of course, the reason we’re all here, scheduled for 9.10pm.
More of that later, but firstly, highly-regarded popster Joesef is on the main stage. An eastender, or Garthamlock-er to be precise, he’s definitely feeling at home, his smooth George Michael-esque croon going down a storm with what is probably a bit of a friends and family crowd, having already sold out two nights down the road at the Barrowland back in March.
That’s our first port of call, but the main attraction of the afternoon acts is one Hamish Hawk, on the King Tut’s stage. Much-reviewed on itm? in the past, it’s grand to see him playing a big event lke this and hopefully in front of a few people who haven’t already encountered him on 6Music. Opening with a stomping ‘Calls To Tiree’, the frontman is, as it happens, a better crooner than his main stage ‘rival’ and while they’ve not (yet) sold out the Barras, they are already, pretty much, playing a ‘hits’ set, if a 6music playlisting is any measure of popularity. Of course Hawk is a shoo-in for this bill despite a lack of similarly ‘alternative’ acts – after all, that song about “racquet sports” contains that “Common People sung by Christopher Wren” line. ‘Think Of Us Kissing’ likewise puts him in the frame for the TRNSMT Best Lyricist award to go with the purely imaginary Best Band gong. In all, it’s a painfully short set, but perhaps a main stage billing next time will mean a stage and audience worthy of his talents.
While this is this writer’s first visit to a Glasgow Green show since Gig on the Green, TRNSMT is now in its sixth year (not including its enforced holiday in 2020) and it seems that lineup aside, organisers DF have done a good job in most areas. That includes the siting of the three stages – there is a little sound bleed at times but generally they have made use of the expansive city parkland, and it’s notable that while the main thoroughfares are crowded, small pockets can be found for anyone needing a moment of peace, if not quiet.
The planners have also drawn, it seems, from smaller boutique events, the River Stage situated in a wooded glade beside, yes, the Clyde, and Siights – a twin female-fronted act from Glasgow / Dublin – are clearly happy with their surroundings. As is their audience, gently coerced into singing along with ‘Stairwell’ as the pair demonstrate their Texas-style pop chops.
“This could be the last TRANSMT ever,” says Kyle Falconer, seemingly apropos of pretty much nothing, unless it’s a suggestion that everyone parties like it was their last night on earth. The band have clearly put aside their differences, which famously led to an onstage brawl between the frontman and Kieren Webster in Manchester. Falconer, clad like an explosion in an Umbro factory, leads his cohorts in their unique brand of skiffle-flecked Dundonian reggae, which shouldn’t work, but does, somehow, on ‘Face For The Radio’ which, in a theme emerging at this event, prompts a mass singalong.
OK, so we may have suggested that there was a lack of non-pop music among the musical genres at TRNSMT, but Hot Milk have a go at redressing the balance. Identifying quite what style they play is a task in itself though – perhaps we’ll opt for lively rap metal with a bit of screamo, mixed with a sprinkling of EDM and even some pop rooted in the same place as half the other acts here this weekend. Han Mee goes surfabout in a willing-to-oblige mostpit as ‘Living In Your Bloodstream’ becomes a new anthem for whatever youth subculture they are clearly kings and queens of.
Down by the river again, Cloth relate how they are enjoying the vibe compared to rainy old Connect last year. A little like the act who will close proceedings tonight, they seem slightly at odds with the poppy lineup and rather better suited to the Ingliston event that will be repeated this August, but with an album under their belt they’re more assured and perhaps better equipped to get their subdued and at-times haunting guitar pop across to a mainstream audience. However, they’ve not compromised their style, ‘Pigeon’ and ‘Ambulance’ sitting comfortably alongside ‘Felt’ – now an “oldie”, strange to think. For the uninitiated, the core of the band is twins Rachel and Paul Swinton, with the latter relating how they’re “knocking out videos daily now,” which should stand them in good stead for their assault on the charts. Well, we can dream, but perhaps another future main stage contender?
Brookie’s returned to our TVs, and isn’t that Ron Dickson back on the big screen? Is the Moby parked with the rest of the food vans? Ah, the old ones are the best, and this is particularly true of Paul Heaton out of the Housemartins, as much famed now for his philanthropic act around the pubs of Scotland as for his considerable musical career. WIth cash placed behind the bar at five hostelries in Glasgow’s east end, it could be that the former Beautiful South frontman could have auditioned a new co-vocalist, with Jacqui Abbot now, it seems, out of the picture. However, the set opens with ‘I Drove Her Away With My Tears’, a recent Heaton/Abbot track, but any fears that this wouldn’t be a festival-friendly set are dispelled with the opening chords of ‘Sheep’. Sounding to many ears a lot like ‘Happy Hour’, this lesser Housemartins single is curiously apt given that Trnsmt’s overcrowding prevention system (we assume) involves herding the audience members who want to get up close-ish and personal with the main stage acts into limited capacity “pens” stage front.
We soon get the big reveal – Abbot’s replacement – and it’s Rianne Downey, a former student of Riverside College, who does an admirable job on tunes like ‘Old Red Eyes Is Back’ and ‘Good as Gold (Stupid as Mud)’ made famous by previous South singers Briana Corigan and Alison Wheeler – despite, as Heaton points out, being born five years after ‘Sheep’s release.
A Bellshill lass, Downie will be relieved to have escaped the Green without being bottled off like her townmate Sheena Easton several decades before.
Of course, it’s Abbot songs which form a fair chunk of the Beautiful South tracks selected – including ‘Rotterdam’, Heaton taking the view that despite Abbot taking the lead on the original, he wrote it, so… it seems that this is everyone‘s song anyway, a mass singalong in Pen 1 drowning out the act on stage, even those who are just about young enough to be Downie’s offspring, presumably having encountered the Housemartins back catalogue on their parent’s stereogram. Or via the walls of the womb.
It’s not all The Hits of course, there’s a new single as announced by the backdrop. ‘Welcome to Heatongrad’, for sensitive ears, starts “Fuck the king and queen” before launching into an invective-filled mock-Soviet polka – well, we are in the east end… before ‘Don’t Marry Her’ returns us to the more twee side to Heaton’s tunesmithery. Of course, it’s “Don’t Marry Her, Fuck Me”, the unexpurgated lyric drawing a few gasps from audience members perhaps only familiar with the 1990s radio edit.
Heaton’s patter is also top-notch, although choosing to introduce his band by “name, instrument, and football team” means that there is very little in the way of what would have been very well-deserved applause for his excellent combo. Instead, smatterings of boos meet his Man CIty and Everton-supporting bandmates; even a Bolton-supporting musician getting whistles, with Heaton chiding “that’s like bullying Falkirk”.
The singer then requests that the main stage crowd remind the following act, Niall Horan, who the original 80s boy band were, before finally delivering ‘Happy Hour’, complete with some (limited) dance moves.
And Christmas comes early, ‘Caravan of Love’ a(nother) massive singalong and the whole set confirming Heaton’s status as a national treasure, albeit one who may not be getting a knighthood any time soon.
Warmduscher are perhaps your ideal party band. Well, if you want to party with Satan. There’s certainly a dance element to their recorded sound, but at least for the first few songs there’s some serious metal riffing going on, before ‘Midnight Dipper’ brings the funk to this field in the east end. Unfortunately a diversion into some pretty full-on punk rock sees one reveller carried out of the impromptu moshpit with a leg injury, frontman Craig “Clams” Baker Jr. halting the show and expressing some concern, while filling the break with some inter-song chat about his real, Scottish first name’s origins (his father’s baws…)
It’s time. That long dark night of the soul. Except it’s daylight, and it’s less soul and more… what is George Ezra? Ok, a rather successful singer-songwriter, but what’s he for? And why’s he here? Though the popster occupying the main stage might ask me the same question, if pressed / cornered. There are a couple of hours to go before the main event, but such are the green and pleasant expanses available that it’s possible to plonk oneself roughly equidistant between the Main and Tut’s stages so that there’s a kind of mash up of the acts performing that sees each cancel out the other.
Ezra’s opposition is Dean Lewis. Who? Several hundred kids cheering in high-pitched voices could surely answer that. Personally, my only true set clash would be Paul Heaton versus The Big Moon, but this is an odd one given that Lewis is cut from almost identical cloth as his main stage rival. Especially as an acoustic take on ‘Hold My Girl’ begins the same time as Lewis’s take on ‘Yellow’ (and you thought that Cloth could dampen the mood). At least the Coldplay cover rocks out, with his drummer afforded a solo (!).
Ezra also plays some familiar sounding songs – one might be ‘500 Miles’, the others possibly the soundtrack to a recent coffee advert. And the ubiquitous ‘Shotgun’, a nothing verse and a chorus that mashes up The Just Joans and Sleeper.
There’s just time for Natti Dredd at the River Stage – very professional and likeable, with good banter, perhaps a KT Tunstall for the next generation, and with a bit of an instant hit in ‘Five More Minutes’.
Up at the Tut’s stage, Kat Burns has attracted a large crowd for less of a festival set and more of a PA (personal appearance that is) – just her and her backing tapes, it’s all a bit Billy Nomates (checks social media for abuse and derision… nope, nothing, which is at once a relief and quite depressing that it’s people with an interest in alternative music that are the moronic trolls while, it seems, today’s generation of fans are able to enjoy pre-recorded, semi-live performances without displaying violently sociopathic tendencies.
Finally, we arrive at the main event. When Pulp announced they were playing their first live shows in, what, 12 years, the rush for tickets was such that music fans were prepared to brave an event that featured on its bill not only a member of One Direction, but their fans as well.
So while it may not be quite a Second Coming (Jarvis would leave that kind of accolade to the King of Pop), it’s something of a big deal for those onstage as well as crowding down the front.
Much had been muttered on the festival site about how photographers have been banned from the pit (it will transpire later that video for the BBC highlights is also off the menu). Weird perhaps given that the band will perform exactly the same set as their previous 10 or so dates of their ‘This Is What We Do For An Encore’ tour, but for anyone who hasn’t read the reviews or seen shaky clips online, the element of surprise works rather well. It’s like we’re at an open-air Glasgow Apollo, as velvet curtains draw back to reveal a tiered stage and a projection of the sun framing a tiny (yet lanky) human figure.
The band kick into an apocalyptic ‘I Spy’ – “the chance to change the world” a decidedly green message.
And the moody intro does get a few of the more casual (or George Ezra) fans heading for the exits, which is a shame as this is no po-faced concept tour. Jarvis is immediately in chatty mode – first, teaching us a handclap sequence which takes us into a bouncing ‘Disco 2000’, as they reel back the years with ‘Misshapes’. The frontman then straps on an acoustic guitar for ‘Something Changed’, which he dedicates to Steve Mackey, the former, founding bassist who passed away in March aged just 56.
The frontman also relives his 6Music presenting career, delving into his ‘on this day’ archive – today’s National Chocolate Day, though Jarv only has fudge and grapes to offer. We also, oddly, find ourselves singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Ringo Starr. ‘Babies’ comes with a nostalgic video, and glitter cannon erupy, while the band’s first show in Scotland – played at King Tut’s to around 30 people – is recalled (obviously) with ‘Do You Remember The First Time?’.
There are streamer explosions, quite the lightshow, an excellent band including strings, and all the hits – they even risking bringing down the party again with ‘Weeds’ and a brooding ‘This Is Hardcore’ bookending festival favourite ‘Sorted for Es and Wizz’. In truth it’s a crowd-friendly set, though the closing ‘Sunrise’ is again one for the home fanbase (and the planet) rather than the chart fans, but an enthralling closer as the sun goes down – on screen as well as in the actual sky – and the curtains finally close again.
Of course there’s more to come – Jarvis appears through the velvet drapes like Eric Morecambe to read an Alasdair Gray poem, ‘For Tom Leonard’, before an unexpected song from a film soundtrack – no, not ‘Mile End’, but ‘Like A Friend’, which is, and many would have welcomed Jarvis’s factoid, from the ‘Great Expectations’ 1998 US movie (and not the UK one from a year later starring Candida Doyle’s mum Sandra Voe, film fans).
Then it’s ‘Underwear’, and Jarvis looks mock-puzzled at the calls for more. “We’ve played all our songs… haven’t we?… Pencil Skirt?’” before, of course, an extended ‘Common People’.
Right at the start of the gig, the big screen told us, in rather ‘1984’ style: “This is a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life.” Hopefully that will apply to all present including some new converts. For everyone else, it’s been a long time coming, but well worth the wait.
