One of my personal least favourite eventualities in life is the campfire sing-a-long. I’ve ended up enduring many of these moments by proxy and by misguided friends, and each time I adopt a faraway look and just try and pretend I’m not there. I understand that they warm the hearts of many as sentimental ‘special moments’, but for some reason they just leave me cold. I don’t deny the pleasure others glean from these Dawsons Creek affairs, but they’re just not for me. I think they’re cheesy, but I also think I’m a cynical fuck.
Tonight, the ‘Hey Manchester!’ night put on a bit of a campfire sing-a-long for me; a real ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ type of gig. It was a night rich with talent and innovation, sound-bending and convention trashing, but for whatever reason my heart wasn’t in it.
I imagine in ten years time, kids will be asking their Dads to tell them about what music was like when people played instruments and not laptops. Gadgets are de rigueur, and LUCKY DRAGONS do it very well. Sat down amongst the proles, bathed in a solitary red lamp, they engineer sparse and occasionally tribal sounds, encouraging the crowd to join in with whatever they do to make the most minimal electro of all. For those sat in the inner circle, it was clearly a mesmerizing experience, with audience members crawling forward to have a go intermittently.
It’s more an art installation than a music show, and for novelty value alone it’s enough to steal your attention for quarter of an hour, as you try and work out what they’re up to with those thick wires and movement controlled noise-making. Some time after that, though, I’m keen to move on. This would be a perfect sideshow in one of the more far-out fields at Glastonbury. It felt spontaneous, and it was exciting for many, who will be raving about this part of the night to everyone they see right now.
POLAR BEAR, I think, were the most engaging proposition of the night for me. Sporting two saxophonists and no vocals, this was 21st century jazz performed with style. The ‘sax-off’ element to the performance would have stolen the show for them, were it not for the song built around the enhanced sounds that can be made from inflating and deflating a pink balloon. The set is experimental in the extreme, highlighting how these guys have mastered their instruments and then let their imaginations go wild.
However, the slower songs were a turn off, and even with post-jazz music, it’s a style that would be most appreciated sat down in a smoky bar. Polar Bear are clearly an amazing band that at times I was able to get lost in, there were still the parts where I couldn’t help but gaze around at those enjoying it more than me with more than a twinge of jealousy.
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Headliners DIRTY PROJECTORS definitely weren’t for me. Expert musicians in the extreme, playing a varied set that at one point sounded like Destiny’s Child singing Tricky songs, and at others very much like Vampire Weekend being invaded by Battles. Within the performance there is a lot going on, with three vocalists providing the pop melodies that are weaved into layers of weirdness and samples. The vocals didn’t charm me, at times sounding shrill (from the female singers) and too earnest (their male counterpart).
Kicking off with some dreamy, awkward well-disguised pop numbers, you’re introduced to something quite unusual, but also very hard to get into. If you loved this band already, you would probably have been thrilled at what you saw tonight. For a first introduction, it was stand-offish.
It’s a similar thing I have with the Animal Collective; I totally get the adulation, but I don’t share it. It’s possible that I was the only one in the room feeling this at the time, as the response was rapturous. Again, you know you’re in the presence of some stunning musicians who deserve all the respect they get, but this melodramatic jazz-pop just didn’t maintain my interest for very long.
At the end of a night that could leave any hardened muso dumbfounded, I left trying to work out quite what was wrong with me. Many were moved, but I just had a nice time. It didn’t make me die inside like a campfire sing-a-long, but my cynicism clearly makes me a heathen. For all of these bands, go and see for yourself. Each a spectacle in their own right, this is one you need to decide on your own.
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