News / / 25.04.14

Hit The Deck

Various Venues, Bristol | 19 April

The tougher, burlier cousin of next month’s Dot To Dot weekender, Hit The Deck brought an array of punk, indie, rock and metal to Bristol’s best-loved venues, before chipping off up North to bring the same line-up to Nottingham the following day. This year’s line-up straddled the generations, and Bristol rolled up in droves. 

No one could have expected the kind of crowd gathering upstairs at the Academy at the crack of 12:45 for the appearance of local upstarts St. Pierre Snake Invasion. Despite reservations that this first-on billing might represent something of a graveyard shift for one of Bristol’s most thrilling live bands, arriving five minutes late means a struggle to sidle through the side door towards the area where frontman Damien Sayell is stalking the front rows, with the wide-eyed young crowd forming a somewhat reticent semi-circle around his wingspan. That doesn’t last though – as the numbers continue to seep in, the assembled are soon beaming along to the band’s meeting of bratty sloganeering and searing social commentary, all set to smartly-delivered, off-beat riffs and the kind of water-tight musicianship you couldn’t slip a fag paper between. A kick in the bollocks from behind to kick off the day, then.

The afternoon is lit-up by a delicious pairing at the Fleece, where Sheffield duo Nai Harvest’s glittering melodies are followed by Cali indie-rock types Seahaven. Both are impressive; the boys from the Steel City just about nick it though, with the likes of Hold Open My Head swimming around the mind long after its chords have rung out. The crowd threatens to turn from enthusiastically busy to claustrophobia-inducingly packed as UK punk white hopes Gnarwolves’ set approaches, so it’s back to the Academy for the day’s three-pronged culmination.

Not a band you’d particularly associate with subtlety, Pulled Apart By Horses’ evolution has been just that. While they’ve never sacrificed an ounce of their feral, hyperactive energy, these four grizzled lads from Leeds have matured from the youthful, spazzy sentiments which brought them to the attention of the UK underground into the rounded, almost-grown-up rock band behind 2012’s Tough Love. And if today’s muscular showing is anything to go by, they’re not about to stick; the new tracks which dot this vulgar display of power have an almost metallic feel, like four-minute-long Mastodon choruses (not that Mastodon choruses aren’t four minutes long, but you know what we mean). Let’s call it ‘indie-doom’ for now; a distinctly British distillation of sludgy riffage with an unplaceable spark, riddled with ideas and determined to make an indelible mark. They’re one of the few bands on the circuit who you could honestly say that if they’re playing in a 30 mile radius, you’d cancel plans with your Mam to go and check them out. As they tumble ruthlessly through the closing bars of Den Horn, it’s difficult to imagine this lot haven’t just stolen the show.

BTD 2 - Bethan Miller

New Jersey’s Saves The Day hold a real sway amongst some pretty credible indie/emo circles, but it’s difficult to see why. They’re the polar opposite to the band who will follow them – Brand New. They never escaped their niche, they never escaped the shadow of the bouncy, flimsy At Your Funeral which became an MTV2 staple in the early noughties. They just got worse. The crowd visibly disperses as their set progresses. Numbers do begin to regather towards its climax, but that’s largely due to the word spreading that the venue is quickly reaching capacity in anticipation of Brand New’s appearance, before a merry bounce-along to that aforementioned hit – which they promptly pull out of to play a song no one seems to know. They seem like nice enough bros, and really happy to be here. But boy do they suck.

As mentioned, people have begun to be turned away outside as the headliners’ set approaches; understandable given that the Long Island icons sold out the venue single-handedly last time they were in town (although hopefully any disappointed parties were able to console themselves in the company of the excellent Norwegian party metal troupe Kvelertak over at The Fleece). From their opening hum, it’s clear these are the perfect headliners for Hit The Deck.

Brand New may have fallen a little foul of an initial association with the likes of Thursday and Glassjaw, names which thrived in a time and place but never cut loose from the shackles of their scene. Brand New grew into a wonderful band, with 2001’s Your Favourite Weapon a distant memory thanks to three successive utterly essential records. They’re now a final bastion of a certain type of emotionally generous American catharsis, poured out true; the last band playing with their hoods up, falling worlds away from red beer cup arms-around-you-broisms and Japandroids’ (admittedly amazing) Americana fetishism. Stepping up like returning heroes, they are on lifetime best form. While they err slightly closer to the debut that they’ve stylistically disowned, they’re headlining a festival so fair fucks – we all want a little fun. But it’s in cuts from The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me (including an utterly stunning Millstone) and Daisy (including a breathtaking early 1-2-3 of Vices, Gasoline and At The Bottom) which truly stand up to be counted. And, of course, Sic Transit Gloria… unites the room in howling camaraderie as only an alternative classic could.

A resolutely all-ages affair with a refreshing cross-section of faces and a laudable sense of unity, Hit The Deck succeeded in being both a relic of a musical movement which is at once derided and revered for its unabashed earnestness, while allowing a platform for exciting, progressive young bands all connected by the faintest thread. In a cynical postmodern landscape where sincerity is seen as weakness, bands like Brand New and days like this remind you that it’s just fine to be yourself. We got to pretend were 16 again, too.

 

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hitthedeckfestival.com

Words: Rich Bitt

Photography: Bethan Miller

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