Venue:
Latitude, Southwold, Suffolk.
Date: 16/07/2016
So, we turned up with no agenda and no programme, determined to capture the sights, the sounds, the smells of an English Festival – but hey – enough of my yakkin’…
First up, Sturgill Simpson in the Obelisk Arena – a doughty campaigner with a whiff of the Outlaw Country movement, whose sound was enlivened enormously both by the inclusion of a three man horn section and the fret-frottaging stylings of his lead guitarist, a man who was in no way or fashion going to let his facial expression betray the slightest hint of satisfaction in his performance. No guitar-gurner he! “It’s nice to see a man who so much enjoys his work, isn’t it?” we muttered.
Next on to the stage, the resplendently bearded and emphatically tattooed Nathaniel Ratcliffe and his band The Night Sweats. A man with the physical presence of latter-period Lowell George and the footwork of Terence Trent D’Arby (only without the splits), Nathaniel thanked us for our enthusiasm, the sky for not raining “…for the first time in a month” and put on a corking set of rootsy Americana which may well appeal to those who regret not making more of an effort to see The Band when they were all still alive.
Squeeze pulled off that potentially up-tripping “…and here’s a new song” festival trick by actually having some decent new material. Also, by cunningly disguising the hits with acoustic guitars, ukuleles and false intros* the whole set had the feel of a party rather than a retread. They even had time to throw in a cover version which, when you’re responsible for the album “Hits – 45’s and Under” may well be considered profligacy. One other thing – their auxiliary guitar and pedal steel player looked familiar, and so he turned out to be. The last time I’d seen him was a couple of years ago at Latitude playing with First Aid Kit, and the time before that with The Waterboys. I wonder if Melvin Duffy just hangs out in storage for the rest of the year before being unpacked and assembled with the rest of the main stage?
At around this point we were delivered of a splendid lecture by Ben McIntyre upon Burgess, Philby and Maclean, their friends and associates and their lasting impact and legacy on the operations, even today, of their acts upon MI6 and the CIA in the Literature Tent. Every day’s a learning day.
To the Woods! And Teleman, who seemed very young-looking, although I was no little distance away, buying nearly a fivers’ worth of lager off a bartender in a corset. That’s nearly as much lager as you’d think it’d be, by the way. Poppy, in a decidedly eighties way – shades of OMD, The Cure, that sort of thing they were.
We saw some more young people in passing on the Lake Stage, which with its situation being nearest the media centre – one of the few places on site you can get WiFi – you’d think would be more reported upon. I think I was looking at Meilyr Jones, who is a gawky sort of Ian Curtis/Jarvis Cocker intended outsider with an arch delivery which occasionally hits the mark. One song, about acting rehearsal as a metaphor (or simile), was sublime and the closing number was a magnificent slice of deep-fried Walker Brothers wall of pop.
Time for a bit of shade, and so we headed toward the erstwhile The Word Stage, now rebranded with some radio station or anther’s logo, for the punchy Half Moon Run – two dangle-haired young shavers in vests throwing Bryan Adams shapes in front of two drummers, one of whom was multi-tasking impressively by also simultaneously playing keyboards. They seemed very earnest, very anthemic and likely to appeal to the sort of swooner which may have previously thought Orlando Bloom could have done with a nice long bath and then been invited to front Maroon 5. As I say, I didn’t research any of these groups before I went in and I haven’t now, so that may well be the exact demographic they’re going for.
There was just time for a foray to the cabaret tent, where we witnessed a young gentleman so enraptured by the performance that he disrobed entirely in order to join the cast on stage for an ensemble finale involving a version of Minnie the Moocher performed upon the set of a San Franciscan bathhouse. There were also songs about drugs, lube-enabled penetration, a memorable performance of Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black by a gentleman whose wardrobe would not have looked out of place in Rob Halford’s wardrobe at the time of his mid-eighties prime, and a balloon-dance inspired bit of burlesque. Paul Merton and his Impro Chums it was not.
We had time to briefly gaze upon the glory that is Chvrches and then The National from afar, before hanging out by the 6 Music Stage for an extraordinary performance courtesy of Soulwax. Imagine Tubeway Army given a kick up the bottom by The Chemical Brothers and then used as the basis for a twenty minute drum-off between The Mountain from Game of Thrones and Chris Frantz.
At which point we bade our leave and slipped into the night, the better to beat the traffic. I’m fifty-two, you know!
*It’s a tactic also used by the Portuguese and their ‘false nine’ Euro-winning line-up.
The audience:
Festival entry-level teens, indulgent parents, Squeeze fans.
It made me think..
Maybe a bit less timetabling might make festivals more fun?
H.P. Saucecraft says
Made me larf.
Skirky says
My work here is done.
Junior Wells says
I dont get the headline
Skirky says
The Artist Formerly Known as Disappointment Bob – late of this parish – was at Latitude too, but I didn’t meet him.
bricameron says
(Tempted).
retropath2 says
Arf
Johnny Concheroo says
No it isn’t!
retropath2 says
Lovely review: I could imagine being there, which, having wondered about it in the past, now may be enough to clinch it for next year. Squeeze are really going through a purple ppatch of indian summer. Having seen them so many times in their earlier years, and having found the Morecambe and Wise double act tour and the new album broadly both duds, I was convinced they were relying on past glories until they lit up Bearded Theory, but there seems real spring in the step of at least Tillbrook, Difford now in more of a masterful inactivity token role.