Indietracks: rounding off with some quick ones

A couple of other bands deserve quick mentions:

Tendertrap sounded pretty good, but we were wandering around the nearby farm looking at rabbits and llamas while they were playing. Their sound seems to have beefed up a bit, or maybe Amelia Fletcher (the singing economist) has always had a certain fondness for the hard-edges of music.
Cats on Fire were some Finnish fellows who seemed like a version of British Sea Power with better tunes and a more appealing frontman, surely a good thing.

Lucky Soul seem like the sort of band I should like, with their 60s influenced sound, suits and smartly dressed lady singer, but it did not come together for me.

Help Stamp Out Loneliness also had a smartly dressed lady singer, sporting a fetching hat of rather militaristic cast, but it was Mad For It Dave on guitars that I was more struck by.

And that's it, really. Would I go again? Yes I would, but I think if I did I would either bite early and book one of the handful of B&Bs in nearby Ripley, or (shudder) camp in the campsite attached to the park in which the railway centre lives. Staying in Nottingham and spending two hours a day on buses is very much the path of madness, particularly as the buses finish so early that you end up missing the last bands on Sunday.

One great thing about getting the bus back from Ripley was seeing this sleepy country town transformed. By day, Ripley seemed like somewhere where little happened, but on Saturday night the place became a centre for full-on mad for it action of a sort that would make Dublin's Temple Bar look like a place for the slippers and cocoa brigade.

And that's it for this year's indietracks, as I'm sure you will be pleased to hear.

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Indietracks: Are you ready Art Brut?

Emmy the Great was less enjoyable than in Dublin, partly because the Indietracks crowd seemed less into her and far more inclined to chatter away to their stupid friends over her not that loud music. But one band who did go down well, at least with me, were Art Brut. These fellows could not be described as twee indie-poppers, as they are a band comprising blokes (and one lady) who eminently live to rock, fronted by a guy whose thing seems to be drink-fuelled stream of consciousness vocals. He had a slightly combative relationship with the audience, berating them for their tweeness but accepting that, broadly speaking, the twee-fuckers and Art Brut are on the same side – for are we not all enemies of The Kings of Leon?

Art Brut also touched a lot of my buttons by singing songs about comics (OK so they were songs about rubbish DC comics, you can't have everything) and public transport (buses, admittedly), and they also sang a tune about male erectile dysfunction which dovetailed nicely with one about having an exciting new girlfriend. Fundamentally, though, one must emphasise Art Brut's total rock animal character, and the singer's endearing habit of beginning songs by shouting to the band "Are you ready Art Brut?" He also introduced the band – "Bass guitar – Art Brut. Lead guitar – Art Brut. Rhythm guitar – Art Brut". You get the picture.

Astonishingly, after Art Brut finished it was revealed that the festival had run out of beer. Yes, the pasty-faced legion of bedroom saddos had drunk the Midlands Railway Centre dry. So we left.

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Indietracks – the killing continues

One great act I saw playing in the locomotive shed was called Disasteradio. This is basically one person, a New Zealander called Luke Rowell. The least Indietracks act imaginable, he played up-for-it electronic dance music – the kind of thing where you combine live generation of the music with weird treated vocals. The reaction was easy to imagine – armies of outraged indiekids fleeing from the venues, while others of their fellows were so incensed that a riot was a real prospect. But there were some of us who found it all rather entertaining.

What makes Disasteradio a lot more fun than the usual nerdy bloke making electronic music was Rowell's showman persona. He is the kind of guy who is great at working the crowd, and I reckon he would have gone down really well at a festival more open to mad-for-it electronic music. Even as it was, there were a good few forward thinking people who derived great enjoyment from his set. I must try and locate some of his recorded music.

The band who most lived the dream at the festival were probably Sucrette, Japanese indie-popper from somewhere in Japan. They are a band of unbelievable feyness, with their lead vocalist singing like a little girl and the music being generally like something for people who found Sarah bands a bit too hard-edged. They also really dressed the part. I am not sure if they were necessarily up to that much musically, but I must salute them for being the feyest of the fey, proving yet again that the Japanese do all sorts of music better than everyone else. Sucrette also seemed to remain in character while wandering around the festival site later in the day. Spirit of adventure.

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Yet More Indietracks

This is turning into one of those boring series where I drone on about bands you've never heard of at some stupid festival I went to. Anyway, outside on the main stage (at Indietracks) I saw Nick Garrie, some folkie fellow from the 1960s. He released one album back then (but only in France), before sinking back into obscurity. Then Rev-Ola re-issued his record (and not just in France), apparently to some acclaim in retro-folk circles, and then he released an entirely new album on Elefant (the Spanish indie label sponsoring the festival).

I was not quite sure what to expect from him, I was thinking we could be looking at some lost folkie mentalist from the 60s, a kind of acid crazed lunatic who had only been coaxed back into the world of music by some sinister psychiatrist of dubious ethical provenance. But in reality perception, Nick Garrie is just some amiable older geezer who seems to have happily moved on when his 1960s musical career failed to take off. So while he seems happy to be playing music again, I did not get the impression that he has spent the last forty years moaning about how he could have been a contender.

Garrie's singing and guitar playing remain impressive, with his set blending old and new tunes seamlessly (mentioning occasionally that some of the old songs had full orchestral accompaniment on record). For most of the time he played largely on his own, with a couple of other musicians backing him unobtrusively.

Garrie was joined later on by some guests. One of these was a fellow I had seen wandering around the festival the day before. With his beardless moustache I briefly entertained the idea that he might be Lemmy from Motörhead, but with his hooded cardigan this seemed somewhat unlikely. When Nick Garrie introduced him, he was revealed to none other than indie legend Duglas (from the BMX Bandits). He helped Nick Garrie out on kazoo chores.

Garrie was also joined by his daughter, her friend, and a load of other children, who provided backing vocals on a song or two. It sounds dreadfully twee, I know, but it was actually quite sweet.

One day I will track down records by Nick Garrie.

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More Indietracks - now for some good music

Indietracks has three stages – an outdoor main stage, an indoor main stage (in a locomotive shed), and a second indoor stage in a small corrugated iron church. The Church was always full, and if you wanted to see anyone in particular playing in it you really needed to start queuing before the person on before them had finished (or even started), a lesson I consistently failed to learn over the weekend.

I did manage to see one band inside, the delightful Hong Kong In The 60s. This lot (two boys, one girl) play electronic tinged music that sounded largely like it would be more at home at another festival entirely, perhaps one aimed at people who like experimental music. They still worked here because they were not so forward thinking that they would frighten the horses. The music is still tunes-based, and perhaps a bit wistful and melancholic, and I suppose people might lump them in with Stereolab or Broadcast, but they are a good bit less in-your-face.

I did just about manage to get into the Church in time to see the last few songs of The Pete Green Corporate Juggernaut (after queuing outside for some time with these Scottish fellows who were extolling the virtues of the Wicker Man Festival. Pete Green is kind of like a cross between neo-folkie singer-writer music and fey indiepop. This means that he ought to be rubbish, but no – he is awesome. As are his Corporate Juggernaut, basically his backing band.

Pete Green's songs are all nicely observational, sung in a regional accent, and the playing creates a pleasing musical environment. The big hit would have to be 'Best British Band Supported By Shockwaves', a caustic commentary on the depths to which the NME has fallen. That it makes the false assumption that the NME was ever about the music does not detract from the enjoyment it offers. Pete Green also played an unlikely yet storming cover of Shocking Blue's 'Send Me A Postcard'.

The third great church act were The Specific Heats. We only heard them from outside, occasionally pressing our faces against the window to see them (and, we realised later, making ourselves look like total spas to the people inside). They served up a garagey surf rock sound. If from outside their singer lacked a certain testifyin' "YEOOOOWWW!"-ness, I would have to still accept that they totally went for it musically and I wish I had been inside to see them. Looking in through the window, I was particularly impressed by their lady bassplayer, who seemed to be really going for it.

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i n d i e t r a c k s - start with the bad

Indietracks is this annual music festival, based around indie pop music. It takes place at the Midlands Railway Centre, a railway museum in Derbyshire (near where the BNP hold their annual garden party). I found myself in attendance, lured along as much by the trains and the promise of all kinds of real ale as the music. I saw a lot of bands, many of whom self-identified as twee in a rather alarming fashion. In general, the music at the festival came from a narrow band, and I found myself primarily enjoying those who most deviated from the no-hoper indie schmindie model.

Let's get the bad bands out of the way first.

Do you remember 1990s band [REDACTED]? They went away, but now they are back! From a musical point of view, it might be best if they had stayed away, as their songs are not really up to much. However, their between song patter is of such an exceptionally high quality that perhaps a future as a successful live band awaits – if perhaps they could just not play any songs and instead treat us to an all patter show. Or maybe they could do the between song patter for other bands, ones whose talents primarily lie in the realm of music.

Another essentially rubbish band were [REDACTED]. Their big song starts off with the 'Be My Baby' drum-roll (as do many songs), then sounds like the start of the Eastenders music, and then it settles down as a knock-off of Tracy Ullman's 'They Don't Know' (itself probably a cover). Baby! Avoid. For some reason their song was being played on every stage between bands. SuXoR.

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