SURPRISE...FIRE (13) seem to be 5 schoolboys in gangly clothes and not at all surprising. The open with an up-tempo indie/rock blast and tear through the familiar rubble with a lot of style. Singer Josh has an expressive delivery, combining gestures, eye contact and enthusiastically self-hugging angst. Two guitarists, a bass player and drummer are well rehearsed and suitably together. The material itself is unmemorable and would be the area that "needs attention". A guitar break suggests promising beginners rather than accomplished creative musicians (at this early stage). Josh is very confident and connects well with the crowd. What I'm really conscious of, as they play, is how far a band like SURPRISE...FIRE is away from the more complex, savvy and gig-hardened authority of the bands I know in Leeds. There is a fresh naivety about what they are doing that needs more history - in their musical sources and in their presentation. Its all a bit light and airy and comfortable.
THE TEETH (14) are introduced as having come through from London to this stage via the BBC Introducing Uploader. I can almost understand why the fragile electro pop whimsy was heard, lo-fi disguised, by someone in the office as twee refreshment in a world of over-earnest guitar bands. But as a live show, with freshly purchased little silver/gold zipper jackets over uncoordinated bloke jeans and shirts, the package makes less sense. The word "trendy" is used, sarcastically, in the introduction. The big number "I Wanna Go Where The Sex Is" sounds like a sneer as its satire rebounds with a dull thud. Are THE TEETH playing this stuff because they love it or because they want to reap the low sarcasm vote? Somehow it manages to be neither fun nor funny. Musical clowns have to be better than the real thing to get the laughs, or else plough on with the dead pan consistency of JOHN SHUTTLEWORTH's preposterous self belief. If this isn't intended as humour, would that make things better or worse? I have no idea.
D'NILE (15) are a local proposition, drafted in from nearby Harrogate. The production on their Myspace tracks had set expectations about as low as they could get. But in the flesh and on the stage the sound quality is a lot better and they are pretty convincing. They remind me of a not-bad band I saw in the cellar bar of the Duncan Public House in Stockton-on-Tees about 1978. Their friends and family know how good they are and they love the chuggy rock guitar, the strong bass and drums and the long vowelled tough guy vocals. Lyrics are laced with strong cheese and my guess is that someone in the band loves Bruce Springsteen. It's a timeless form and D'Nile do a decent job of it. Singer Liam Gray tries a chant of "Yorkshire, Yorkshire … " but it doesn't catch on.
Doing the old stuff so the crowd can hug themselves with the familiar has its place. But this here is the BBC Introducing Stage where oddity and risk taking are VITAL (surely?) THE OLD ROMANTIC KILLER BAND (16) are exactly and precisely the kind of band that the world needs to be introduced to. They are odd and they take risks and their set is, correspondingly, spellbinding. Greg Holland plays the adventurously lonely drums and Harry Johns sings and plays a solitary guitar from a slightly different universe. It's a universe that must be a bit like West Texas, with terraced houses and Primark jeans, occasionally visited by JOSH PEARSON and haunted by shadows of performers like ALEX GOMEZ and other Texas blues guitarists who might not even exist. Harry's guitar playing is a blues thing, and it is wholly original, odd though he might be thought to be. I hadn't seen THE OLD ROMANTIC KILLER BAND before and all of a sudden their rather puzzling records make very good sense. As is often the case, being introduced makes all the difference. The sharp, direct minimalism, the physicality of the playing and the intensity of Harry Johns' involvement in his short, wonderful tunes is very engaging. This isn’t guitar showing off this is the enticing magic of finding new and surprising things to play in a very crowded territory.
Nottingham can always be relied on to know about quality bands. FRONTIERS (17), a young fresh Nottingham rock band, have the sound and the fluency, the quality and the looks that audiences appreciate. They were one of the bands I kept hearing people mention, away from the stage, as being a new band they had noticed or had liked on fist sight. For me they are a bit safe. The songs are built on the basic ingredients, deployed in predictable ways. Moments of drama, surprise, madness or anything else unexpected, do not arrive and I find my attention wandering off before the end. I look round to see what's going on elsewhere and feel duly admonished by the size of the audience that FRONTIERS have gathered, and kept, in the early evening before the pilgrims flock to get their places staked out for the Main Stage headliners.
GOLDHEART ASSEMBLY (18) are four beards and a drummer: a kind of Americana with a keyboard player doubling on ukulele. Their appearance was delayed a little and their set is correspondingly shortened. Their conventional sound is well played and four part harmony singing is a strength, with an added Everley Brothers/Proclaimers edge. They don’t make a firm impression and I wonder again why such competent but conventional sounds are being chosen for this stage when so much originality and excitement is overlooked?
SCREAMING LIGHTS (19) bring on Jay Treadel's strong, confident Brian Molko-style voice. Double time drum and bass with soaring synth parts produce grand-scale atmosphere and full-blooded portent. Flailing guitar works hard too. I'm not hearing personality or distinctive songs though. The shape is right for the mood, but it's not hitting any targets. No risks are being taken, no statements made. The day on the BBC Introducing Stage is flagging for me. I have popped across to other stages in the gaps between acts here and heard bits of BEAR HANDS, NOAH AND THE WHALE, THE XX, and GRAMMATICS and the gulf is very wide. In their different ways these more developed bands have carved out something unique to them, unmistakable and clear. Some bands today are reproducing paler versions of things that have already lost their cutting edge. And while everyone has to start somewhere, this stage has had plenty of artists who are way beyond the emulation of safe pop/rock, sounds-good-to-me stage of development.
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THE NEAT (20), having been very definitely in the "not ready" category when they played this stage last time have stopped pretending and come out in much more individual and interesting style for 2009. An audience of people who want to see them has gathered and the warm sun is cheering things up in an unhurried sort of not too excited way.
The songs are rough-cast, searing things with two angry voices that drop in welcome borrowings of Mark E. Smith phrasing at key moments. It isn't the next Huge Thing, but it sounds contemporary and it looks comfortable in its own cardigan and skinny jeans. The songs are played and sung as if the band meant them because, I'm sure, they do mean them. It's a simple honesty that could easily be missed. It's refreshing and they get me on their side, no trouble. There are some interesting things going on between the guitars. A bit of a friendly ruck breaks out in the crowd and the low-key, slightly sleepy Security snap to attention and look a little anxious. Just for a moment. No brutality, but enough menace to satisfy.
THE CROWD (21) were bubbly all weekend. All ages and profiles are there for the cultural ethnographers to record. But, let's be clear - Leeds Festival is mostly about that first leap into the independence of being away from the family for the first time, in the company of people who are a wee bit older and a lot more dissolute than you are. It's permission to be out of control and it's encouragement to be out of your mind. The music matters, but not as much as the rites of passage and the jolting shifts of perception that can only happen once in a lifetime, gloriously, essentially and endearingly. I inwardly thank the organisers for letting me keep out of he worst and best of it, in the relative calm of the Guest Campsite.
At six twenty, it's time for Preston's Solja Boy, broadcaster, voluntary worker and rapper BONEY BLACK (22). There's a brisk breeze blowing some of the chill wind of England. Such a wind might cut a bit deeper for a sharp witted young black man from a Northern town. "Who You Know" carries the personal story and the bottom line is "I need the money". It doesn’t have the political anger or the swaggering cultural disdain of classic US hip hop but it tells a real story and does it with authority and a strong sense of dignity. Producer and DJ create the sounds, BONEY BLACK strides up and down, completely in charge of the stage with a strong professiinal edge to his delivery. The set ends with an acoustic guitar song for BONEY BLACK to show his softer side. The act as a whole is a mainstream thing with a strong mission to cross boundaries and reach a wide audience. Too safe? Maybe. But there is no doubt that he's telling his own tale from an honest place where things are not always rosy.
Belfast has its woes too, A PLASTIC ROSE (23) have come a long way to be here and the small crowd can’t be much of a reward. Reading, at least put more people in front of them. But the band's crowd-chasing tenacity is remarkable. The name A PLASTIC ROSE is offered between every song - a name we are told we must not forget. "What are we called? … " The crowd streaming past on the way to the Main Stage are invited to applaud themselves for being, at least for those brief minutes, part of A PLASTIC ROSE's (remember our name!) audience. The big rock and roll anthems, with powerful crescendos, big choruses and towering self-belief are instantly impressive. A youngster from Doncaster approaches me and my notebook after they have gone, desperate to learn more about them. He has been smitten. When he has gone I wonder what I remember. I remember the name. A PLASTIC ROSE. But I can’t remember any of the songs. They include big "Whoa Oh" moments and vigorously thrashed guitars on top of fire and brimstone bass and drums. But they don’t stick in the psyche for long. When the songs come along, the band will be up with KINGS OF LEON. At this stage I'm not hearing them.
Is it the end of the day already? Leicester's THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS (24) do more audience incitement and more whoa ohs. They play a set of racing-about 100 mph guitar punk rock. The resulting roar is pure hedonism, a celebration of what everyone already knows, hammered into place with brain numbing repetition and rasping guitars. Every light is a highlight, no pause no twist no invention. Onslaught rock and roll and a perfect encouragement to crowd surf, mash into each other yell and get giddy. On balance, Saturday on the BBC Introducing Stage has been a curiously conservative experience. As someone remarks, whatever hopes I still cherish, Leeds festival is not a new music festival any more (if it ever was) - it's a welcome celebration of what is already known and loved and bands like THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS thrash out exactly that in a way that hometown crowds love to hear in venues that get them closer to the band than the bigger and cleverer versions can allow.
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