DOT TO DOT BRISTOL

Various Venues | Bristol | June 2nd

With the mother of all bank holidays beckoning, Dot to Dot picked a fine old time to throw their illustrious nationwide rock ‘n’ roll bash. While Nottingham and Manchester had to wait a while longer, we hit Bristol’s D2D safe in the knowledge that we don’t have to be in work again until Wednesday! That’s like, a month away or something. This could go all the way through being fun and get genuinely nasty, then come back and maybe be fun again.

First things first, we’re treated to Deaf Club’s sparkling, dreamy slowpop, performed to a healthily-populated Thekla top deck. Charmingly understated frontwoman Polly Mackey’s vocals are sharp and on-point, cutting calmly through though-out grooves, with occasional darker, more jagged moments based around minor chords and bass gallops. Over at The Cooler, 2 Wounded Birds’ jangly 12 bar indie and woozy garage rock is atmospheric if not overly inspired. Clad in leather and evoking at turns surfy shuffles, fun melodies and Ramones rip-offs, they help themselves liberally from all and sundry in a hearty tug-of-war between style and substance. A hugely enjoyable cover of timeless bluesy number The Fire Of Love, so memorably nailed by The Gun Club, is a real treat, and a perfect warm up for the hands-down, no bullshit treat of the evening, San Diegan wunderkind Nathan Williams and his bloody Wavves.

Within seconds of the familiar strum of statement-piece King Of The Beach exploding into glorious fuzz at least 70 percent of the floor-level of the Academy have turned into 14-year-old assholes, jumping atop each other and spitting beer all over the shop with a proud yelp of “you’re never gonna stop me”. This is a proudly one-paced performance, but what a pace, maintaining their joyous slacker urgency (oxymoron?) throughout a bratty Idiot, an anthemic I Wanna Meet Dave Grohl and the standout moment of the entire day – and to be fair, most days – a vast singalong to the one-off Post-Acid. The bodacious Stephen Pope is an irresistible focal point throughout, his wild-eyed, ever-expressive gurn, long-suffering Flying V bass and hyperactive manboobs a perfect offset for Williams’ self-assured, understated charm. While out in the big bad world the lad seems to have an opinion on everything and its cousin, onstage he smiles knowingly as people go suitably batshit to his series of flawlessly put-together surf-thrash bastards.

If there’s a band worth braving the biblical rain to nab a taxi to the slightly out-of-town Trinity for, it’s the UK’s most consistent tear-up Pulled Apart By Horses. And when brutal opener The Crapsons and follow-up Wolf Hand has fully half of the converted church slam dancing in seconds, we’re totally vindicated. It’s a perfect tonic for a crowd clearly still baying for blood after what was doubtless a standard incredible set from Turbowolf (who we were forced to miss by stupid, brilliant Wavves), and it’s nigh on impossible not be drawn in by this walking riff factory’s endless, eminent enthusiasm. The eye-catching James Brown stalks his side of the stage menacingly, looking a bit like the American one from Dirty Pretty Things if he was mental and really good on guitar. This is teamed with an heroic shift from drummer Lee Vincent and, courtesy of vocalist Tom Hudson, one of the best, most hair-raising shouts in the business. Epic Myth borrows shamelessly from QOTSA but sounds massive, while raucous classic I Punched A Lion In The Throat is phenomenal fun. We burst back out into the underwater city and make for the good ship Thekla – the only place to be when the inevitable happens and we’re all forced to take to the seas – safe in the knowledge that PABH are a fucking wicked band

Led sublimely by Odd Future’s already-iconic girl lead Syd Tha Kyd, The Internet’s gorgeous, trippy hip-hop drips with soul and has a rapt crowd who’ve spend their day getting largely pummeled utterly loved-up. Perhaps of all the acts we’ve seen today, this set, in this setting, feels particularly special, a rare treat. There’s frightening scope for this collective to grow and develop alongside Syd and Matt Martians’ celebrated day job, but captured in the moment right here, they exude classic sensibilities while remaining unquestionably fresh, and it’s nothing short of a revelation.

Meanwhile, Friends’ reputation for combining audaciously sexed-up, funked-out pop with a lovable oddness precedes them, and their early hours stage time could not suit any better. Surrounded by boozed up, sweaty Bristolians may not exactly be a home away from home for these Brooklyn hip types, but they muck in admirably, and a predictable deluge of crushes and lady-crushes pervade the air with every single fluid Samantha Urbani move. To close our evening’s entertainment, Metronomy bassist Olugbenga brings with him a slick, crowd-pleasing selection of mash-ups that even has the hordes – who’ve long since forgotten any semblance of cool – indulging in the first ‘woop woop’ style chorus we’ve ever heard dis-gracing Thekla. And we don’t even storm out in disgust. No, no. We’re all friends here and it’s Love Saves The Day in the morning. Dot to Dot 2012, what a blast.

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http://dottodotfestival.co.uk/

Words: Geraint Davies

Photo: Victor Frankowski