Electric Fields 2014
For a maiden festival, Electric Fields gets quite a few things right, location being not least of all. Set on the grounds of the stately Drumlanrig Castle, proceedings on the endearingly diminutive site centre around an ingenious twin main stage setup whose bills perfectly alternate allowing for a continuous stream of quality Scottish bands, and all you need to do is hop a metre to the side between acts.
A nearby acoustic tent wryly named To Lose La Trek provides a chilled alternative to the more raucous goings on, and an appropriately distanced Red Bull Studios tent offers up electronic acts from evening ‘til late. There could, of course, be more: more food vans (all three ran out of cheese by 9pm), more things for kiddies, and more areas under cover (luckily it didn’t rain a drop all day), but the busy hordes don’t seem to mind; they’re here for the music.
“This is for all the Yes supporters in the crowd.” That’s Barstow Bats frontman Andrew Rendall making a statement on the Carse Valley stage, politically at least. Musically, the statement is a bit less controversial: this very local (like, Dumfries local) indie foursome press the right buttons for an opening act, with catchy melodies, jumping chord progressions, and drum fills exactly where you want them. Short of being a by-the-numbers rock outfit, however, Rendall – with his songwriting partner in crime Steven McKie – yelp and croon with just enough pathos and verve to keep things interesting. As their set progresses, things take a darker turn (EP closing track Marcitrio in particular), showing there’s more to the Bats than just traditional indie-rock.
For a drastic change of pace The Skinny tries out unhinged ska unit More From Jim, because who can’t resist six pale topless Scottish lads on stage with nothing but brass and gigantic Yes campaign frisbees? There’s little to be said that the previous sentence hasn’t already painted in graphic detail, but these madcap gentlemen deliver exactly what is promised, and the already busying Electric Fields crowd is clearly skanking in the encroaching sunshine. It’s nothing but classic covers today, as they belt out Sally Brown, Come On Eileen, and the requisite Goldfinger reprise of Nena’s 1984 stormer 99 Red Balloons, complete with double-time drums and tooting trumpets. Belter.
Nuclear new wave rockers Vukovi waste no time in kicking up proceedings a notch on the energy scale, frontwoman Janine Shilstone’s vocal an admirable combatant with the razor-sharp guitar licks and frantic percussion blasting from the team behind her. Punkish and potent, this is a no-nonsense band who tear through their tracks with vigour. Closing firecracker Schwagger a particular highlight, especially with a cheeky live segue into Rudimental’s chart-topping single I’ve Been Waiting All Night. With a rumoured album in the works beyond 2013’s EP Sweet Swears, Vukovi have been on the circuit for a good few years and it’s high time they gave us something more; this is quality.
Anyone whose ears pricked up during More From Jim’s insanity earlier in the afternoon due to the lead singer’s impressive vocal range, could do well to pop over to To Lose La Trek’s mellow surrounds for a stint with Bobby Holly, a much soberer affair without his brassy entourage. The man’s got real oomph in that voice, showcased both by original tracks and a pining rendition of Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy, and in the now blazing sun – sat on the grass ‘cos the benches are full – this corner of Electric Fields is a little pocket of bliss.
Julian Corrie mans what is technically the festival’s primary stage The Arc with his red-shirted bandmates. The Miaoux Miaoux sound is all present and correct, and the squelchy, glittery electropop purveyed by Mr. Corrie’s synthpads (and backed in no small measure by live percussion) is the perfect accompaniment to the taps-aff climes. For beloved offerings like Hey Sound, Autopolit or the progressive Stop The Clocks, the reception is shiny and gleeful – just as it should be. “Who’s ready for a dance in the sun?” Everyone, it seems.
Late on due to swapping Kylie Minogue stories with the festival’s compere (XFM personality Jim Gellalty), Prides are still welcomed on the Carse Valley stage like a stadium band, as befits their big, synthpop sound. Closing the Commonwealth Games has certainly helped this Glasgow trio (well, five-piece this afternoon), as has that one tune on that Spotify advert (that’ll be Out Of The Blue to save you Googling), and their set is a danceable, sunny (have we mentioned the sun enough?) affair. When lead singer Stewart Brock is so friendly and engaging on stage, it feels too cynical to fault his Ray Bans and anthemic power pop today.
Glasgow’s fertile electronic scene spoils us these days, not least of all Atom Tree and their gorgeously textured electro-vistas. Up against Stanley Odd, the recently opened Red Bull Studios tent is still generously attended, and Shaun Canning’s pop-electronica project seems to draw in the dusk itself as night falls, Julie Knox’s soulful live vocal adding new charm to bewitching numbers like Die For Your Love. Less glacial than label-mates Machines in Heaven, less confrontational than Jon Hopkins, there’s rich, neon colour above the subterranean bass and Michael Robertson’s deft drumming; if recent EP Tide of Thorns has whet our appetite, this festival set has made us ravenous.
Official headliners for the first year of Electric Fields, Fatherson are as humble as they come; recently touring the UK and playing respectable festival slots (T in the Park in particular), this Kilmarnock quartet are even more polished than they were on the BBC Introducing Stage in 2012. The now-standard opening (Ross Leighton on a misty lone guitar for An Island, soon joined by bandmates for the track’s crescendo) sets the tone for an emotive, anthemic set, with sing-alongs aplenty. Still-warm debut record I Am an Island informs the majority of what follows, Mine for Me and Half the Things notably solid performances, but a highlight comes in early single First Born and its earnest, transportive lyricism (“We know / we all try out best to / get along with the cool kids”). The inevitable closing track might seem like easy wave-along lighter-bait, with its defiant, crashing chorus, but the festival-ready James is made for moments like this. Especially when the irresitible refrain (“So go home / sober up / take the weight off your feet and just chill”) is joined on stage by pretty much every act of the weekend, arm in arm with the Fatherson foursome. Well played, boys. Well played.