We sent down two reviewers to Electric Picnic 2010 to try cover events proceedings for the site and since both have submitted different reviews with differing acts and experiences I’ve decided that the best thing to do is break the reviews up into each person’s experience rather than try merge their writing. So here is the weekend of our reviewer David Quinn.
Review by David Quinn
Photos by Alessio Michelini and Kieran Frost (courtesy of Phantom FM)
Friday
As the beautiful Friday sunshine split the many rocks scattered across the Oscar Wilde campsite, I began my mental checklist before setting forth into the Main Arena. I shook my can of beer to check its volume, then looked at my counterfeit lanyard (yes, we got duped into purchasing the line up lanyard at the car park only to be told by officials that they were fake!) for the bands’ starting times and decided it was time to go. First up, Janelle Monae, and I had reservations of seeing another Amy Winehouse/Duffy hybrid, judging from her first single “Tightrope” from her debut album ArchAndroid. I left the campsite a little early however, as my intentions were to stop off and pay homage to the TrainWreck DJs with a few Jersey Shore fist pumps. I got so carried away in fact, that by the time I reached the main stage Ms Monae had already begun. Wearing a fantastic white tuxedo-esque shirt and black slacks, and accompanied by a band in matching tux get-up, they were already in the zone. I had not been there for any longer than 30 seconds when two black-leotarded ladies with matching hairdo to that of Janelle, appeared out of nowhere banging tambourines
while the Rick James looking bassist belted out a solo. Suddenly, the ladies jumped into the crowd, involving all in their tambourine action. Clearly blown away already at this point, the once sceptical side I had for this performance was out the window. The onstage antics continued through the quality tunes, and included dancing nuns, a dancing rabbi and a drummer who effortlessly spun his sticks through his fingers repeatedly. With a band consisting of keyboards, drums and bass, this was a rhythm section to die for. The standout track was definitely Wondaland, and predictably ended her set with her current radio hit Tightrope, but with a twist. An extended ending included a James Brown style approach complete with cape, which was ultimately thrown off emphatically for the finale. Impressive.
Next on the list was the always stellar Laura Marling, but with some time to kill I took a detour via the Bacardi bar, which would soon become my biggest vice at the festival. With a queue never nearly as large as that of the Heineken bars, and with friendly staff to buzz off, the Bacardi bar was a fantastic mid gig venture throughout the weekend and at times provided vital ingredients for enjoyment – alcohol.
It was then off to the Crawdaddy Tent to see a performer continuously raved about and I was personally ashamed at having never seen live. When the set began however, something seemed off. Either the acoustics were awful or it was simply a bad choice to place such a mellow act in a large tent, but through Rambling Man, Ghosts and Alpha Shallows we had to confer in order to establish and agree upon the song being played. Laura eventually spoke and apologised for the sound, crediting it to a cold she is nursing. A common reference to a modern-day Joni Mitchell, as Laura Marling left the stage 15 minutes early I was significantly underwhelmed but came to the conclusion that, the smaller the venue, the more you will appreciate her.
Foals were next on the agenda, following up what was arguably one of the best Dublin gigs so far this year, and the crowd forming in the crawdaddy tent only further implied the magnitude of their live presence. Some may see second album Total Life Forever as a slower, more progressive approach and leaves behind the funk elements of Antidotes, and had some worry about the effect this would have on their normally high-octane performances. The worry was extinguished immediately. Foals played a rocking set and got formalities out of the way early on playing Cassius as their second song. Throughout the performance Yannis was climbing the frame of the stage, amps, jumping into the crowd and the fans loved every second of it. Regardless of venue, Foals will always deliver a show of immense proportions.
Finally it was time for Roxy Music, and in my opinion the biggest, most high profile and long awaited acts of the entire weekend. This is going to be something special, I thought. And special it was. Bryan Ferry still oozed sexual magnetism and girls were going crazy with every gyrate of his hips. They had a full band on stage complete with backing singers and percussion, and every now and then Ferry would bust out the harmonica himself. Playing all the hits like More Than This, Avalon and Love Is the Drug, they were truly unmissable. It was a night when every member of the crowd looked at their list of Must See bands before they die, and ecstatically ticked the box beside Roxy Music. Their encore, and the only song I can think of that was not played, was the always loved Lets Stick Together. From start to finish, a wonderful experience.
Saturday
Saturdays weather wasn’t a patch on Friday, but as long as it ain’t raining, am I right? We headed to the main arena with intent on seeing Crystal Castles. Now maybe its just me, but again there seemed to be an issue with either acoustics or equipment, because the incoherent nature of the gig forced me to leave earlier than intended. Another band hailed for their live shows have fallen by the wayside of the Festival carriage.
I only had time to stay for half of Seasick Steve’s set, but it was totally worth it. Even on the Main Stage he had the ability to project his sound, nay, his essence to the masses. Rocking his makeshift Diddly Bow and MDM (Mississippi Drum Machine – It’s a wooden box which he kicks to the beat) he played tunes from I Started Out With Nothing… and Man From Another Time while drummer Dan Magnusson played up to the crowd. At one stage he was feebly attempting a sexy dance when Steve chuckled and said “sit down ya idiot”. I really wish I could have stayed longer, as every time I see him I am blown away. But something for the future lurked via the Body and Soul area, something which I was told could change the face of (or even give a face to) Irish hip hop as we know it. Or don’t Know it. The innovator in question is Galway based producer and Hip Hop DJ Jimmy the Hideous Penguin, and he threw beats and
scratches around like balls of tether. With the help of an assortment of Irish MCs and rappers, some of whom impressively freestyled As Gaeilge, everyone on The Hill had a collective respect. Pure talent, and lots of it, the fear is that the Penguin will eventually have to venture further afield to gain the recognition he deserves, as there is simply no market for Irish Hip Hop on the emerald isle.
The beats continued as I made my way across the plains of the main arena to a Little Big Tent occupied by non other than Northern Irish DJ sensations The Japanese Pop stars. Que a medley of bone crushing beats and chubby bass lines that would blow the roof off any Dublin Venue, the entire set is now a blur of mega house mash-ups. These kind of raves always attract a strange crowd, and I had the pleasure of meeting a woman decked out in Little Bo Peep attire, and fist pumped in sync with a Mexican Luchador wrestler. Poetry.
A bit of time to recharge next, so it was back to the Bacardi bar as Lcd Soundsystem approached. When we did finally get to the Tent, they were just coming on stage, and complete with disco ball hanging from the ceiling, the party ensued. Everybody danced in lunacy as they busted out hits from their self titled debut album and the critically acclaimed Sounds Of Silver. The biggest crowd reactions came in the familiar form of Daft Punk Is Playing At My House and North American Scum.
With my energy starting to dwindle, I took a breather outside and recharged for about 30 minutes. Doing this was premeditated as I knew exactly what waited at the end of the Rave Tunnel that was Saturday night. Eventually I had to make a move in fear of missing the start of the final act of the evening, so I clawed my way to the Little Big Tent for The Bloody Beetroots. I was genuinely scared at this point, because odds are when they come on stage, my lifeless body will react uncontrollably, wasting what little reserves of energy I had left in the tank. I really didn’t know if I could handle it.
Then they walked on stage. i have seen clips of the Beetroots playing live, and it never looked more than a DJ set. I can only assume the identities of the following as they were all wearing those Bloody trademark masks. As they entered the fray, Edward Grinch climbed behind a full drum kit, while Tommy Tea took his place at the decks. Then Bob Rifo emerged, sporting the mask along with a punked out leather jacket with graffiti and torn skinny jeans. He placed a guitar over his shoulders, pointed to the crowd, and boom. The place exploded to the kick in of their famed remix of the Toxic Avengers Escape, and everyone was truly going mental. For a band predominantly associated with electronic and dance music, their stage presence was as anarchistic as johnny Rotten on his best day. I wonder had he gone home? The pop of the night was when the Bloody Beetroots burst into their well-known tune from album Romborama, Warp 1.9, i have never seen a crowd go so ballistic. They oddly closed their set with the ominous score from 28 Days Later, which was still great and almost a fitting way to send us back to our tents.
Sunday
Sunday began duller than the day before, and to cheer ourselves up we hit the Body and Soul area for an hour before heading off to see Two Door Cinema Club. Cymande were playing some funk classics at the Hill, and gratefully I had the pleasure of witnessing them perform The Message, a true classic. With our spirits heightened we made our way to the Electric Arena for an Irish band with a lot of potential and a rapidly growing fan base. They played many of their songs from Tourist History, including the much loved Something Good Can Work and Undercover Martyn. With what was quite a humbling performance was topped off with a brief chat with the crowd, Alex Trimble reminiscing about the previous years festival in which they performed on the back of a tractor, before thanking the crowd for the overwhelming reception. A lovely bunch of lads with a bright future.
By the time we got to the Main Stage for Friendly Fires, the heavens had opened. All in attendance were desperate for the funky dance pop troupe to help us forget our troubles, and our soaking clothes. And they prevailed with flying colours. Busting out new tracks along with fan favourites Jump in The Pool, Paris and my own personal, In the Hospital, the snake hips of Ed McFarlane were mesmerising. He continuously encouraged the crowd to get into it, most likely because many were leaving to escape the rain. I however was firmly standing (or dancing) my ground. They closed off with Phonebooth, and until that moment I genuinely forgot it was raining.
Following Friendly Fires was a band many of whom’s sole reason for attending the festival was to see. Although I consider myself a fan of Mumford & Sons, I was again skeptical about the setting for their performance. Was their sound large enough to encapsulate the crowd at the Main Stage? Seasick Steve proved that theory wrong the previous day, and with Mumford’s bellowing harmonies it could only further lay to rest the reservations. Unfortunately, it did not. So many have seen them in closed quarters such as the Academy,
but playing outdoors in the rain to 20,000 people had them sounding watered down and at times completely drowned in a sea of sing alongs, most notably Little Lion Man and The Cave. No doubt i was one of the culprits singing along, one cannot help but involve ones self in The Cave. But as much as the crowd loved it, I do not think it was the intention of the band for the audience to take over for the majority of the gig. I would liked to have actually heard the band at some stage. Plans to see them again on a smaller setting are already in the works, as this set did not do them justice.
The Plan was to dilly dally about until Massive Attack, but the rain was getting worse. That classic festival muck was beginning to rise up here and Soul at that moment, I would not have witnessed the mind-boggling fusion rock of Neon Indian. With a guitarist sporting a look of Jimmy Page blended with Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, not to mention the talent to boot, they played a set that had you dancing one minute and shoe-gazing the next. The performance was not far off a more chilled version of The Mars Volta, with some Kyuss and even Santana thrown into the mix. To be honest I’m clutching at straws because they are quite incomparable. I was amazed to hear that their recorded sound is nowhere near as funky or upbeat.
It was finally time for Massive Attack, but realistically the weather was now torrential rain and Catrina-esque (no offence intended) winds. I managed to hear Angel and Inertia Creeps before deciding enough is enough. Call me a lightweight, but Led Zeppelin couldn’t have made me stay in that field. Okay maybe they could, but no one else. I reluctantly put my tail between my legs and high tailed it back to the campsite, where I spent the remainder the night fixing leaks and preventing my shelter from flying away. I am utterly disappointed in myself, but as I am sure many have told you, the conditions were not for the timid. I guess I am one of the timid. Maybe I’m just gettin’ too old for this Sh**.
