It's The End Of The Road - Part The First

The End Of The Road Festival, now in its second year, takes place in the beautiful surroundings of Larmer Park in Dorset, in the west of England. As we approach in the shuttle coach from Salisbury station, pushing through winding country lanes and rolling fields, our spirits were high (though bruised somewhat by Stardust’s insistence on singing Boston songs throughout the journey). After half an hour the coach rounds a bend and we can see rows of tents already set up. They sit on top of the hill. On top of the hill sits a big, black cloud. It sits there for ten hours and rains the whole time. Ah, England.

Fortunately, after pitching our tents and scouting things out, it becomes clear that The End Of The Road has three things that will combine to keep our spirits high. These are:

1 - portaloos with toilet paper and soap
2 - hot cider
3 - the good music

Unfortunately, I remember the hot cider more than the good music, but here goes anyway...

The weekend started off with Willard Grant Conspiracy whose songs of death, despair and bodies thrown into wells were delivered in deep, bluesy perfection. They are my new favourite American depressives.



Willard Grant Conspiracy - Skeleton


Next up was Stephanie Dosen, who was very funny, cute and charming. Stardust fell in love with her instantly but unfortunately we had to leave the set halfway through to get out of the rain. The only refuge was the beer tent – so there is then a five hour gap in my memory. I do remember headliners Yo La Tengo, however, because they were VERY LOUD. Pretty good, too, with fierce drumming and hypnotic bass lines providing the basis for much overblown lead guitar histrionics.

Following a night so cold that at one point I bumped into Ernest Shackleton and a team of huskies I awaken with intense cramp in my legs and a hangover straight from cider hell. Luckily therapy is on hand as the weather has changed overnight to probably the nicest day of the year. The skies are perfect blue and the sun shines brightly all day.

It all sets us up nicely for having a noon-time beer outside the tent in which tapetheradio were doing their thing. They played six or seven very tight, smart tunes and are officially our discovery of the weekend. Watch that space.

We then wandered over to the main stage for a Scandinavian trilogy. First up were Loney, Dear whose blissed out pop fitted the sunny mood perfectly.



Loney, Dear – Saturday Waits


I’m From Barcelona were in many ways the highlight of the weekend; simply joyous tunes and much silliness combining to get the crowd into what can only be called a middle-class frenzy (i.e. clapping a lot and smiling). Any band that has more than 10 members, buckets of confetti, giant balloons and a lead singer crowd surfing on a lilo can’t be all bad.



I’m From Barcelona – We’re From Barcelona


Last of the trilogy were The Concretes, who are now blander than The Cardigans – and that’s bland.

So we won’t talk about them, we’ll talk about Joan As Policewoman instead who came on next and performed a stunning set in front of a crowd who clearly appreciated her songs of heartbreak. She will be a star very soon (if she isn’t already).

Once again things go a bit hazy after this… I’m pretty sure that Architecture In Helsinki were very good, but by the time the Super Furry Animals headlined I was more interested in walking around the Garden of Lights or unnecessarily looking for more beer. Still, here’s Gruff Rhys’ collaboration with madman Boom Bip to make up for it.



Boom Bip & Gruff Rhys – Do’s & Don’t’s


Day three started for us with Euros Childs, formerly of Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci. He was the perfect start; silly but brilliantly talented and seemingly able to pluck tunes from thin air. His new album The Miracle Inn is out now.

A little later we headed over to watch Paris Motel, a band with a lot of annoyingly talented musicians who – to make things even worse – were also very, very good. They also looked great – surely Amy May was the only woman at the festival wearing a full length black ball gown. Apart from Stardust, of course. Their new album is also out very shortly.

My last treat of the weekend was Seasick Steve, who brought a little of Tennessee to Dorset, broke a couple of guitars (not in a rock ‘n’ roll way, they just broke because they were knackered) and even got a five minute singalong going with the audience. The crazy hillbilly.

All in all a very good weekend – a hearty well done to the organisers. Next year all it needs is a few more food stalls, a five star hotel for me and no rain whatsoever, and it will be simply perfect.


Crisp Debris


Add to: | Technorati | Digg | del.icio.us | Yahoo | BlinkList | Spurl | reddit | Furl |