Oceansize @ Faversham
By Holden DeForge
The memories are hazy, the order of events may not be quite right but I know two things; beer flows freely in The Fav and amazingly it didn't rain, or at least certainly not enough to water down my Sol or to kill any of the musicians on stage.
Arriving to witness the stage being built and its roof subsequently being blown off by the wind I decide I have seen enough of Oceansize's soundcheck and head for the first of today's beverages. After some banter with today's DJ Tom Goodhand (big green tick for The Walkmen, Idlewild and Eels, big red cross for some really slow and dull tune that almost dragged every one down as the sun failed to emerge for very long) I head out and catch Johnny's In The Basement. The vocalist has a good voice but the faux American tone has me wincing a little as does possibly the worst jump at the end of a song ever. Out of time and out of place it summarises JITB's set. Some unmemorable bog standard rock tunes.
Next up are Vatican Jet, it's still pretty early but with a vocalist who knows how to belt out a tune and the rest of the band carving out some rocking pop melodies they soon start to liven a few people up and are warmly received by the growing crowd. The band manage to look at home on the large outdoor stage, letting their music spread out and envelope all who will let it rather than just shrinking into a corner. Things are on the up.
Chris May returns to the stage once more, his set abandoned due to time constraints he now comperes the day performing a few songs in between band changeovers. Managing to strip down heavy rocking tunes to acoustic beauty and with a nice line in piss taking, one liners and general crowd livening upping he provides the perfect foil to the stressed concern that has control of Rob Paul Chapman's face. The maestro behind today's event should really have enjoyed it more in a perfect world, the bands were up and running, people were having fun and it was something bold and new, a diverse mixture of bands in a car park on a, for a short while, roofless stage.
Rent's bizarre looking collective produce what can only be described as bad show tunes. My school used to do great productions and always had great bands performing the music. Rent are like the bad band from a bad production at a bad school.
The Butterfly don't really float my boat at all, it's all very System Of A Down like and nothing really leaps out to grab my attention, they are one man down so maybe I'll give them the benefit of the doubt but there is nothing in their set to excite me or ignite any musical passion.
Samsa are the opposite, with all the sweeping and soaring dynamics of Muse but without any of the whining vocals or guitar masturbation they finally get the Faversham car park truly rocking, amiable and conveying warmth from the stage they win over those gathered at the front of the stage so much that a scrum ensues when free CDs are placed at the front of the stage when Samsa's set closes. Their set I will later discover is the musical highlight of the day.
Keeping things rocking along but with a synth propelled engine are Parisman. The two vocals from the drummer and bass player work well as the two keyboards battle it out to build a thick wall of sound on which guitar melodies sweep to capture our ears. It's edgy and different whilst being incredibly poptastic and instantly memorable. A fine set from a band who seem to get better with each listen, much like a girl gets prettier with each beer.
Seeing Scarlet don't really sustain my interest for too long with their rocky/pop tunes and Simon Rix lookalike bassist. Food and beer becomes a much more appealing option and I begin to think that the quality of bands might start to decline again.
The Breech help restore some faith, they have moments of magic but then moments where you wish they had written a proper chorus to "Shake It". Sometimes Doves-esque and about to take you off somewhere wonderful they have a knack to fall into Snow Patrol land which is a horrible place to be.
Guitarist/keybaordsman/gurner Davoc Bradley provides the days amusement highlight when his guitar strap breaks and determined to carry on with his backing vocals he hops around manically trying to balance his guitar on his leg. In his stripy top he looks like a sailor doing a little jig after too much rum celebrating a return to shore.
Out doing Snow Patrol in the stakes of the dull and the monotone are Vib Gyor who manage to take music to a new level of dreary. When I get home I look up bland in the dictionary just to make sure their picture doesn't reside next to it. It's the kind of vacuous coffee table music your "friends who you wish would listen to decent music" will buy. I begin to pray for a thunderstorm that alas never comes.
It's been a long time since I have seen four day Hombre. The last time, I seem to recall, they had gone a bit too weird and experimental for my tastes. When I first saw them many years ago duel singers Si and Rich had shaved heads and one of the best pop songs in the local arena, "Tenth White Lie". They seemed to have drifted back more towards straight forward pop once more but with those gorgeous harmonies and soothing guitars building up a rich, textured layer of sound. Si and Rich now have grown hair too which is a good thing because it's getting pretty nippy.
Loqui are a bit mental. Rob Paul Chapman sweeps him arms through the air and conducts his band and the crowd through what seem like operatic rock masterpieces. Big bold brass, excessive fret wanking from Stuart Hudson and an abundance of vocal harmony gel together to somehow make something ace and almost indescribable. Go see/listen to them and you try write about them THEN you can tell me what a shit description this is smart arse!
Thankfully there is no storm to ride tonight as the weather manages to stay at least dry as The Scaramanga Six rock out fierce tunes interspersed with some jovial banter with the crowd. The double drumming and provides the base for the distorted guitars and growling bass to rumble over as Paul and Steve Morricone sing, shout and scream about mentalist pen friends and other such lyrical wonderment. It would have been the perfect end to the day.
We still have Oceansize to go though. Whether it's already see them play for an hour in soundcheck or the fact that I am now, lets face it, shit-faced, I cannot find anything within their music to hold my interest as I shoot the shit with a newly acquired drinking partner. It should be sweeping and soaring masterpieces that pull you in and throw you around, instead it's all just drifting on by my ears and ends the day with a bit of a damp squib.
A bold move by RPC to extend the excellent Tea Time shuffle and a wide ranging musical lucky bag but not quite the Leeds XI that I would have chosen.
