Diary - The Great Escape, Brighton 2010 - Part 1

Originally published on mINtSOUTH.com in May 2010
Words: Suzy Sims
(c) mINtSOUTH.com

DIARY - THE GREAT ESCAPE, BRIGHTON 2010 - PART 1

THURS 12th MAY

BRIGHTON. Beautiful, seasidey, hip and trendy Brighton. Once again the Great Escape is upon us. Three days of much music and not enough sleep lie straight ahead.

We arrive in the city just in time to sit down in the sun for a chat with a very buoyant Pulled Apart By Horses. Then follows some time spent doing Media Things, such as checking out the available space in the press area, working out who’s covering what on the extensive schedule, and wondering if there is any free lager hidden in one of the side rooms (There was. And even better, there was cake too).

“We are Funeral Party. And you are the audience,” announce the band performing in front of the Doughnut, one of the Relentless Street Gig venues for the weekend. The sun is shining and as it’s early, many wristbanders opt to stay on the beach to listen to the perfectly fiddly synths. One girl nips over to take a photograph. She has a £3.49 bottle of cider poking out of her satchel. The band finishes by hurling their tambourine into the waves behind. The music is pretty good though, and promised more top times for the rest of the weekend.

It’s then time to locate Jam in time for Hungry Kids Of Hungary, whose melodies are sundrenched and juicy, with a definite Sixties vibe. They provide a bright and refreshing start to the night. Someone in the crowd is trying to impersonate an Irish accent – which was a little bit out, seeing as the band are actually from Australia. (Insert Family Fortunes incorrect buzzer here).

HKoH is followed by the carefree and optimistic sounds of Pearl & The Puppets, whose music seems poised to soundtrack something indie hip like The Inbetweeners. Unfortunately mINtSOUTH’s reviewer is unable to see either band due to the anti-paparazzi fug emanating from the smoke machine, and the fact that we are a good two foot shorter than everyone else. However both bands sound very enjoyable and easy to warm to.

Skipping along the seafront, we eventually come to Concorde 2. The bar staff are gawping at a screen showing something unusual taking place in the main hall. In neon headdresses and flowing robes, female choir Gaggle are doing their best to hypnotise the crowd by singing in rounds... singing in rounds... singing in rounds, about nasty men and the like. The rockers in the crowd look confused and slightly disorientated, apart from one man in leather trousers who is doing some bizarre dance with his gloved hands, like he’s trying to roll a pea deftly along his arm and fingers without dropping it. Gaggle are entertaining if you like fancy dress and musical theatre. I don’t.

Thankfully a few minutes later, Pulled Apart By Horses stride onto the stage to let launch some shouting and heavy rock. There’s sweat, swearing and a distinct lack of shirts. The crowd are bobbing their heads and enjoying the banter. We have a stand in drummer tonight as the usual tattooed one is at home for family reasons, however he does a fine job of keeping up with their mighty pace.

Then it’s onto The Walkmen... oh no, it’s not. Stranded somewhere that’s not Brighton due to the volcanic ash, the band are instead replaced by Little Comets, who turn out to be one of the highlights of my festival weekend. I heard Adultery on MySpace a couple of years ago and found it slightly annoying. I was pleasantly surprised to hear Little Comets are oozing summer elements and plenty of singalong opportunities. Their instruments / stage gear also includes a saucepan, and a very strange shaped thing that some guy keeps hilariously yelling “ARMADILLO!” while pointing at it. “From up here, it sounds like you’re saying ‘I’m a dildo’,” the band counter drily. They sound like indie pop with a bit of ska and it’s all very splendid and danceable.

The evening takes a downward turn as I head to Fionn Regan’s show at the Terraces. He’s really good, so people keep saying. I hadn’t really paid much attention to the programme and thought I was listening out for a Fiona, so my bad. His set was wholesome folk fun, spoilt somewhat by the noise in the venue, as people couldn’t see anything more than six rows back so weren’t bothering to listen either. Regan tried saying “Shhh,” but that was never really going to work. It was too crowded to hear any banter or nuances in the music. The final track really picked up speed, but by this point it was too little too late to get my attention.

The evening finished as all good evenings do – by befriending a tramp. Shaun likes to stand outside music bars and listen to bands play songs by The Libertines. He especially likes it if they wave at him. If you see Shaun, say hi.