Crack

It’s difficult to grasp when pulling in to the drizzly, quaint surroundings of Butlins Minehead the array of musical treasure to be found spread over the coming days. The ATP format dictates that the quality of each line-up relies on the musical leanings of the headline acts, yet the mark is rarely, if ever, missed. And thanks to the chaps of Les Savy Fav, Battles and Caribou, the roster for Nightmare Before Xmas 2011 is laughably, stupidly, embarrassingly strong.

Friday’s first treat is fresh-faced Floridans Surfer Blood. Theirs is a set which at times plods, due in part to one too many mid-paced college rock numbers, and in part to the at times notoriously, impenetrably po-faced ATP crowd, the wrath of which Crack braves to holler along to the fantastic Swim. As it transpires, we’re disappointed to have missed the majority of The Budos Band, who power through each note of their heavy, heavy, seriously heeeavy brass funk with an accuracy, precision and groove which gets us grinding audaciously without realizing it.

Wild Flag do a fine job of straddling the line between melody and dissonance, as well as narrowly dodging the bullet of being a 90s pastiche. But their sound is an unabashed throwback to that era: it’s celebratory to a point, but then that point gets a tad cheesy. No Age, meanwhile, are trashy, thrashy, brash and brilliant, the likes of a pounding Fever Dreaming seeing the room thoroughly losing its shit.

For a decent percentage of ATP punters the name Hot Snakes was a major factor in parting with a few quids and making the trip to Minehead. A band that burned brightly but far too briefly, Hot Snakes summed up a vitality and rawness of spirit and sound that captured countless imaginations and has been ruthlessly ripped off for years since. It’s evident from the moment the band begin soundchecking their own equipment that there’s a feral hardcore of fans at the front who’ve been waiting for this moment for years. And as the unmistakeable twanging opening of I Hate The Kids pours from the speakers, the place sets to erupt. What follows is a heart-stopping reminder of punk rock at its absolute emotional and physical best. Flawlessly tight, varied in pace but never in intensity, Hot Snakes have returned to the fray and retaken their seat on top of the top fucking table.

Les Savy Fav picked this line-up, they knew what they were going to have to follow. They knew full well that persuading Hot Snakes to reform was going to send people insane, and they knew they were going to be amazing. But when you’re Les Savy Fav, you don’t really have to worry about getting upstaged. The moment the curtains slide open across the wide, low stage is unforgettably surreal. At first a sliver of silver, growing until it’s clear that the entire stage is clad in foil, a glistening, throbbing mirrorball. At its heart is Tim Harrington, silver belly swelling and mouth roaring from an indistinct, blank silver face. From opener Rodeo on, the entire set is a cathartic triumph. Drawing heavily from their last Root For Ruin record, melodies of the likes of Sleepless in Silverlake and Let’s Get Out Of Here soar, while Patty Lee gets the room moving as one. Harrington sheds the silver to reveal yet another skintight opaque creation and hangs from a lighting rig at the back of the venue while a slightly terrified girl kneels at the front of the stage flinging glitter, countless foil balloons are flung around the throng and float to the ceiling and every mouth in the venue is stretched into a grin. You're left in no doubt whatsoever that you’re witnessing a true spectacle, an incredible sensory experience to rival anything. Job done.

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Words: Geraint Davies