Stag & Dagger 2012: Glasgow

The annual Stag & Dagger Festival is a delightfully chimeric beast: half music festival-cum-gig marathon and half pub crawl, it has firmly established itself in the musical calendar of first London, and for the last four years, Glasgow. This year’s lineup features a veritable cornucopia of local talent, alongside an impressive number of international bands.

Even the last-minute cancellation of the headlining set from the much-touted Death Grips couldn’t make much of a dent in the lineup; the main challenge facing audience members was simply choosing who to go and see at what time. Pumped up on energy drinks and enthusiasm, The Skinny’s three brave reporters delve fearlessly into six of the best-loved fleshpits and sweatboxes in Glasgow: The Captain’s Rest, The O2 ABC, The Art School, Nice 'N' Sleazy, Chambre 69, and The Skinny’s very own stage at Stereo, finally emerging battered, euphoric, and wild-eyed some time after the witching hour.

The action kicks off in the afternoon at The Captain’s Rest. Intent on promoting a good time and making the most of the remainder of their UK stay (following rapturous Great Escape festival reviews in Brighton a week before), Hot Panda kick things off early and unpack their Canadian bacon onto a stuffed Captains audience, literally overflowing onto the stairs. In amongst the collage of reverb gnarls, in the vein of Pixies' Doolittle, spiralling, siren-like guitars and angular basslines duel, a whooping tube-amp drone providing a backdrop for their filthy, twisted grunge.

Some pre-set tech issues force two-piece girl band Honeyblood to trim their performance down to a meagre 5-song set, which leads to a slightly awkward stage presence. It's the delivery that counts, though; their bittersweet, fuzz-drenched guitar melodies (courtesy of ex-Boycotts singer Stina Claire) make for a swoon-inducing remedy. The duo's raw, hazy sound echoes many-a-90s grunge band, though drummer Shona McVic's raucous yet simplistic playing style gives them garage-rock crossover appeal, which really comes to fruition in their delivery of the irresistibly hooky Super Rat.

Much-touted local trio Die Hard let loose the stored-up energy harnessed over the nine months they spent recording their self-titled LP: their debut live performance is a glorious whirl of schizophrenic chaos, with all three members swapping instruments and sharing vocal duties. Fundamentally, the group strike an odd balance between hyperactive, new age afro-beat and spacey, cold-wave ambience. The sonic tapestry they weave begs comparisons with the similarly psychedelic Animal Collective, but there are parallels to the druggy folk of Mellow Gold-era Beck too. Despite the hectic execution, it's clear from the results that they've put a ton of effort into planning this highly enthralling first show.

Pulsing guitar, synth bass, and steady martial percussion inform the true post-punk aesthetic of Holy Esque's welcome appearance at Captain's. The singer spouts desperate, howling vocals over lush chord progressions and towering, Peter Hook-like basslines. Holy Esque stand tall and sound big; like Glasgow natives Mogwai, but with a more populist, classical sensibility, they demonstrate a unique, restless, questing grit, and a submission to sounding as colossal as possible.

Dapper gents The Hidden Masters are reinventing prog rock with a slick, nattily-dressed burlesque edge. If you wanted to make a sprawling, psychedelic rock opera like Tommy for the twenty-first century, The Hidden Masters would be the band to write it. Their drummer covers so many time changes he might as well be in the TARDIS, while the bassist and guitarist battle on, their only weapons the fretboard and the intense vocal harmony. It’s bizarre, but strangely charming, and incredibly musically accomplished.

Discopolis close out the night at Captain’s with a dreamy set of synthpop and filtered guitar melodies, like a younger and better-looking New Order. Discopolis are boyband-handsome, but their music is substantial and intelligent. A few of the songs tend towards Coldplay-style, over-earnest balladry, but the steady pulse of synths offsets the more saccharine elements, keeping the young band’s sound refreshingly complex and engaging. A particularly cathedral-esque Zenithobia – the band’s next single – culminates in a minute of high-BPM techno and tripped-out guitar, and hints at the band’s capacity to grow and encompass new sounds and styles.

Meanwhile, over at the O2 ABC, Austin natives White Denim really get their jam-band vibe on, opening up for a packed hall with a tireless prog-assault of crunchy Led-Zep-a-like riffs, funky bass-lines, rapid-fire vocals and dizzyingly complex drum-patterns. The songs are blended together masterfully, and the Texan quartet show stellar musicianship. The orgasmic glee radiating from the onstage members as they grin knowingly at each other might suggest that they think in perfect synchronous fusion, the musical equivalent of a Vulcan mind-meld. It must be a feat, then, that their aggressively self-indulgent, startlingly eclectic medley, combining elements of dub, blues rock and soul has the assembled crowd jiving like this is Woodstock all over again.

Vocalist Rick Anthony is a staple part of The Phantom Band's onstage appeal. He simply demands attention as he switches from standard guitar-stance to a manic, mic-in-hand stage-wander. The tearfully feel-good chorus of Folk Song Oblivion was always going to be a highlight, but it's the instrumental kraut-march of closer Crocodile that has punters gawking and grinning, as members of the Glasgow sextet pull out various woodblock instruments, contributing to the overall din as the song climaxes with a thunderous crash of guitar feedback. The band take their final bows, faces now clearly familiar – a warming thought, considering their shadowy beginnings.

Django Django are probably the year's most hotly tipped buzz-band, and as such, their live performance will likely be a make-it or break-it deal for the uninitiated. As they emerge in similarly patterned T-shirts, they announce their presence with synth-pulses which near split the venue in half. Their visual quirkiness is matched in nearly every aspect of their sound, from vocalist Vinny Neff's playful singing style to the delightfully wonky electronics. Admittedly, they all too often settle into a repetitive mid-tempo blur, but the crowd are nevertheless captivated, lapping up the sugary lead single Default in particular, and it's easy to see why.

For today, Stereo is The Skinny's home from home, as we showcase some of our favourite artists. Proceedings kick off with a sunny, almost Balearic set of indie-meets-electronica from Miaoux Miaoux, using a collection of synths, drum pads and gadgets to underpin his wavering, almost-falsetto vocals. The highlight is a storming Hey Sound, coalescing into a wall of glitched-up electronic noise punctuated by MM’s soulful yelps. The songs are backed up with a heavy dosed of Chi-house rhythms, squelchy 303 bass and pulsing disco – the effect being somewhat akin to a funky, less pretentious James Blake.

After Miaoux Miaoux, the stage is quickly set alight by the arrival of rock-rap hopeful Random Impulse and his band, who charm the now slightly smaller crowd with their tight, chopped punk-funk riffs and clever, quickfire grime and hip-hop vocals. Although there isn’t much conscious lyricism on show – standout track Put It On The Card is about spending your overdraft on booze – Random’s verbal dexterity, welcoming banter and way with a tune win the day, managing to successfully combine swaggering indie rock with jump-up rap, a la Lethal Bizzle. Their cover of the White Stripes’ Fell In Love With a Girl is so enthusiastic, Random cuts his fingers on his guitar and keeps playing – a born rock star, without a doubt.

Bear In Heaven’s epic, anthemic take on synth-rock is an absolute delight. Chief bear, lead singer and keyboardist Jon Philpot is clearly enjoying playing the role of frontman, shimmying his hips, pouting and crooning, allowing his incredible voice to soar and quiver over the band’s tight, pulsing rhythms. Philpot channels Lou Reed, Jim Morrison and Jagger, as the band blend Italo-influenced synths, incredibly complex, insistent math-rock drums and guitar-based fireworks that evoke the ghost of Electrafixion-era Johnny Marr. The sublime Lovesick Teenagers is full of emotionally intense, new romantic menace; Sinful Nature and You Do You are transformed live, all leather-clad sex magick and throbbing desire. The excursions into techno and electro on The Reflection Of You, are utterly riveting, as Philpot seductively purrs at the crowd: “Dance with me.” A captivating performance.

Erika M. Anderson, or EMA (ex-Gowns) is a difficult character to pin down. She probably wouldn't have it any other way, having already traded the blonde-haired look she sported on the iconic cover of last year's solo offering Past Life Martyred Saints for something darker and more androgynous. Her band's music is similarly shape-shifting and unpredictable live; touring member Leif Shackelford's funereal violin-drones often give way to vibrant drum beats and violent, colourful guitar thrashes. Anderson's stage (and off-stage) presence is infatuating, particularly during a grand rendition of California, which has the assembled crowd hanging on to her every word.

Forest Swords' debut Dagger Paths conjured up images of barrenness and solitude, so it's a wonder how well the songs translate to a live setting. The Wirral-based producer's use of ghostly samples pound out of the speakers illustriously. His use of chopped up vocal samples has drawn comparisons to Burial, but Barns' echoed live vocals – as well as the pulsating grooves delivered by the live bassist – point the sonics in more of a post-punk direction. Nevertheless, the trippy visuals help to create a seedy nightclub vibe, which is mirrored as a staggeringly unexpected drum 'n' bass freakout throws the crowd into a frenzy of audible excitement.

Off the “piss-stained streets of Falkirk” (his words!), Scotland's sharpest-dressed man augmented with looper technology, Adam Stafford showers the crowd at Nice N' Sleazy with his melodically-crafted solo a cappella and guitar numbers. Shot-Down You Summer Wannabes hits all the right targets, his choral vocal drones and motor-like rhythms stirring the crowd up. A truly visceral performer, emotionally invested in his jarring little loops of distortion, he closes the set by entering the crowd and showcasing his eccentric microphone wails, to rapturous approval.

Long-haired, white trainer-wearing happy grunge kids from the US, Husker Du-worshippers Milk Music kick out the unrelentingly lick-a-licious goodtime jams. Their sweaty drummer smashes cymbals with abandon, surrounded by his bandmates’ surging, energetic lo-fi grunge-punk riffs. Considering the intensity of their performance, the music is incredibly poppy and hook-laden; the perfect soundtrack for late night beach parties.

Over at The Art School, shit just got pastoral. With jangling, inoffensive warm guitar chords, rustic trumpets and all manners of shakers and plinky-plonky synths, Jonquil do nothing to hide their folksy roots, and why should they? The frontman wields an impressively flexible falsetto vocal range, which lends a distinctive, cinematic, soul-searching feel to their brand of familiar indie rock. In the crowd, there are floral skirts and minimally striped cardigans everywhere one turns.

With Niki & the Dove regrettably pulling out, the marvellous Conquering Animal Sound step up to the headliner plate with gusto, showcasing a rough and unpractised but truly unique and exciting set of new tracks from their upcoming album. Anneke Kampman's beautiful voice is backed by curiously childish circuit-bent melodies; like mischievous pixies guiding the listener along a merry BT dialling tone. Through the whirring, abstract THX 1138-soundboard-inspired melodies, the ever-present but contained urgency of the vocals effectively floats through the Fad Gadget-gadgetry like a stream of clear, bright water.