FIELD DAY
Victoria Park | May 25th
Field Day feels like it’s come of age. 2013 heralds much-relaxed vibes, a more generously spaced out site and more capacious tents, as well as the expectedly stunning line-up; so much so that it was genuinely impossible to see the majority of the stand-out listings, resulting in a predictable case of timetabling chaos. A disappointment shrouded in praise.
Toronto power-trio METZ blast our day into life in the Shacklewell Arms tent. Conscious of the fact they’ve just over half an hour to make an impact, they tear through their set, leaving seconds between songs. “This is one to shake your ass to for real” barks frontman Alex Edkins before surging into an aggressive rendition of Get Off. Damn right. It’s then straight over to the Bleed and Lanzarote stage for How to Dress Well. However, when the delicate tones of Tom Krell begin to leak from the speakers, you sense our proximity to Seth Troxler pummelling out the remainder of his set may prove a problem. It takes a few tunes, but thankfully Krell’s vocal gets a volume boost in time for a stirring cover of Janet Jackson’s Again that pretty much has us crying into our lager.
Having narrowly missed PAN’s jungle-haze/buried techno maven Lee Gamble, Chvrches deliver a solid set of ebbing synth pop. The trio, despite their clear Silent Shout-era Knife, arpeggiated tropicalia and industro-lite derivations, deliver a fairly strong take on an often- exhausted style, a notion fully emphasised by the closing rendition of the lovely Recover. Savages are playing with typical urgency as we arrive – quite literally, as they’ve already started and we should be five minutes early – but their waves of clanging post-punk are enough to back up the hype surrounding their recent Silence Yourself full-length.
A quick tester of Mother Clucker’s fried chicken sandwich par excellence and we’re quick to the Eat Your Own Ears stage for Solange’s mid- afternoon turn. Last year’s True EP is less a game changer than a very, very good example of emotive modern pop music, sitting somewhere closer to an updated hybrid of classic Whitney and Tears For Fears than the histrionic emoting of other, not too far removed scene leaders like Autre Ne Veut. While many of the sonic nuances of that record are lost in the breeze, and despite an unnecessary cover and a swift foray in and out of jaunty mediocrity, it’s an excellent set. Knowles is a sweetly commanding and effortlessly charismatic presence. Dev Hynes’ production as Blood Orange is really the main draw here, though, with Solange’s strong vocals basically playing equal fiddle to his sighing, affecting compositions. Clearly the best example of this, Losing You is perhaps the finest pop song of the last 12 months, a punch-in-the-gut heartbreaker that fully deserves the batshit enthusiastic reception it receives here.
Meanwhile, over in the Laneway are Kurt Vile and The Violators. With the sun glimmering through the gaps in the tent, it feels perfect as they break in their latest album’s dreamy, not-quite-title-track Wakin On A Pretty Day, which seems to meander along endlessly. Wild Nothing are a little lost in the Shacklewell Arms tent, the subtle intricacies of their shimmering keys and trebly guitar lines forlornly disappearing into its cavernous peaks. Gemini and Nocturne, wonderful albums both, work best as woozy headphone music, ripe for faux-nostalgic introspection. Still, Jack Tatum’s laconic enthusiasm is sweet and the man’s strength in dreamy, melancholy-swelled songwriting is clear even with such testing sonics.
No such problems for Fucked Up, who expectedly RIP. You’d be forgiven for worrying the band would ostensibly be playing for the front row only – especially given frontman Pink Eyes’ immediate departure from the stage into it – but even in a tent this size they’re a thrilling proposition. Lofty ambitions that seemed ostentatious and a little optimistic in their early straight hardcore days now solidly realised, the band are as close to a genuinely effective ‘progressive’ punk band the world’s got and the relentless brilliance of their set is testament to this; kinetic runs through David Comes To Life and Queen of Hearts are faultless, but it’s a breathless rendition of Turn The Season which acts as the affirming highlight of the entire day.
We enjoy a little downtime in the company of Bat For Lashes on the EYOE stage, Natasha Khan exuding loveliness in a multi-hued, glittery creation. But our attention soon turns back to the Bugged Out! Tent for a tasty hour or so with one Julio Bashmore. We’re reminded of how far the young man from Bristol has come as we arrive to find a tent rammed with thousands and a huge backdrop banner displaying his name that towers over the audience. He delivers his signature blend of funk-fuelled house and, of course, Au Seve, which has the most sizeable audience of the event pumping fists in unison.
After all this, Animal Collective are something of a lost proposition, despite the inclusion of relative ‘hits’ My Girls, What Would I Want? Sky and the vintage Feels cut The Purple Bottle. Though they do have TNGHT to compete against, admittedly a more alluring prospect at this time in the evening (and after this many beers). Determined to give the festival the send off it deserves, we head back to Bugged Out! to watch the last 15 of HudMo and Lunice’s hypercolour trap assault. Immediately rewarded, we get to go in one more time to a slamming rendition of Acrylics.
As we file towards the exits, it’s reassuring to know the various illustrious promoters and venues involved in Field Day have hit on a fully-realised vision of their shared ideals; an impressive balance of populist heft and thoughtful semi-esoteric inclusion, and something to be genuinely looked forward to next year.
– – – – – – – – – –
Words: Tom Howells + Jack Bolter
Photos: Caroline Faruolo
CONNECT TO CRACK
