End of the Road Festival 2009 - Friday

This festival really is my idea of heaven: 3 days, 5000 people, loads of space to camp, 4 stages spread over Victorian landscaped gardens, real ales, great food, a piano in the woods, a disco floor in the woods, and lots of Americana type bands (though also many that wouldn’t want to be tarred with that particular brush).

Paul dragged me along last year, but cried off this year in favour of convincing his friends and loved ones to take a leisurely stroll up a really big mountain. So it was left to me, Judith, Chris, Sue and Craig to bow down to the might of the pedal steel and the Saw. The highlights as I can recollect them:

Friday:

After managing to get past every traffic cone in the country and set up camp with huuuge tents we found ourselves past midday and thus at the perfect time to crack open the first of many cans. The highlights of the day:

Having given a polite five minutes to Charlie Parr (think: old bloke trying to cash in on Seasick Steve’s audience) we fetched up at Spokes (think: Mogwai meets Pink Floyd, and certainly one for Rich to keep an eye on). Lots of lyrical guitar work followed by loud thrashing, but also a few with vocals. I didn't know much about them but had been doing my homework on Spotify and had them down as a possible. It’s worth copying the CD that Chris bought.

From here it was quick swerve around The Duke & The King (album is being raved about, but I just don’t get it) and over to the Garden Stage to see Shearwater (think: late Talk Talk meets Wilco).

This band were spectacular. All members kept switching instruments (which in my book proves that they are REAL MUSICIANS) playing absolutely fantastic music, but the best of the bunch was the drummer who looked like he was deputising from Motley Crue or Poison – lots of big blond metal hair and tight silver waistcoat. The illusion was however shattered when he came to the front of the stage to play the clarinet or the xylophone. And no devil horn signs. I looked up the band and, even more spectacularly, the drummer’s real name is Thor! How rock is that!

Conveniently coinciding with the end of the set was the phone call to say Craig had arrived. We took along some Cider to help him catch up, but it wasn;t really needed as he had his magical coat on, with the pockets filled with a bottomless supply of Strongbow cans. With Craig unpacked it was off to seeDirty Projectors (think: too clever by half…so sort of like Vampire Weekend, but without really sounding anything like them. Or late period Talking Heads (they have recorded a duet with David Byrne, so that’s close enough)…see the trouble I get myself into by trying to compare bands?). This band was worthy but kind of dull. Most songs sounded like they were four songs stuck together and some of the songs sounded like it was four different songs played at once. We left to find the bar (which was easy – it’s at the back of the stage!).

Headliners were Explosions In The Sky (think Godspeed You Black Emperor meets every post rock band that Rich loves).

Lots of long, instrumental, guitar driven music with lulls and crescendo’s. Craig and me were quite taken with this, but Judith found it dull (no choruses) and demanded we all go and play.

So off to the piano in the woods and then over to the Cider bus where they refused to let Craig buy the Cider Brandy at £7 a shot for us all and would only let him buy the £1 a shot paint-stripper. Then on to the Tipi tent to see which unannounced bands were going to play. Stayed to see The Duke & The King faffing around for a bit, whilst all of our party fell asleep one by one, then it was off to bed.

Another great thing about End Of The Road is that they have a Record Shop. It’s right in the middle and is stocked full of CD’s by the bands playing and also of similar type bands – so basically stuff I love.

If there was ever a mythical cave behind a waterfall full of treasures, then it would probably look like this CD shop…except then they would be free, rather than just competitively priced. So you watch a great band; you then have to walk past the CD shop. You go the bar; you have to walk past the CD shop. You go for a piss; you have to walk past the CD shop. And even better, it seems to be always open!

So we were camped down by the fence and the nettles i.e. the boy’s urinal. This was great during the night, but come morning it starts getting a bit busy with women cooking on the stoves they insisted on bringing along. So the option for a piss is then to take a two-minute walk to one of the blue and grey portaloos (I’ve heard them described as Turdis’s, which I think is clever) or take a four-minute walk to the urinals…and past the CD shop in both directions! How great a start to the day is that?

Anyway, I’m perhaps rambling a touch.