Trans Musicales De Rennes 2012: Day 3

Day three of the jewel in the crown of the French music festival circuit, Trans Musicales de Rennes, and the buzz around the circuit of bars, theatres and concert halls is that the act everyone wants to see is TNGHT. It's the name on everyone's lips, as anticipation builds for their late-night performance. But more of TNGHT later – there are a whole host of other exciting acts to get through before the Scots / Canadian duo take the stage.

First up is Warp signing and much in-demand producer Kwes. He's worked with everyone from Bobby Womack to Damon Albarn, from Ghostpoet to Eliza Doolittle, but tonight the focus is on his solo material, as he plays tracks drawn from No Need To Run, his debut EP on Young Turks, and Meantime, his 2012 EP on his current label. Opening with a lazily psychedelic instrumental jam with elements of post-rockers Don Caballero, Kwes plays bass backed by a keyboardist and drummer, both female. The band have a relaxed, easy camaraderie, and although the sound is stripped and minimal, their intricate playing weaves fascinating patterns. As Kwes steps to the mic for a rendition of Hearts Run Home, he reveals a tender, fragile voice not unlike Womack's – and although he sometimes hits a flat note, this only adds to his music's wonky charm.

Upcoming single Rollerblades is reimagined as a gentle ballad for voice and synth, as the band step back and Kwes plays solo. His music is almost impossible to categorise – every time you get a handle on it, as it flits from soul to folk to jazz and back to indie rock, he takes a sharp left turn, revealing still more depth and playfulness. Speaking to The Skinny earlier, Kwes revealed: “I've always had a thing for whimsy.” It's a telling statement, and best embodied by the charming, delightfully weird ballad Honey, where Kwes sings of the love of a cabbage for a pot of the eponymous nectar. Early highlight Bashful is pop music, pure and simple, descending into an extended noise jam, with Kwes kneeling on the floor playing his keyboard like a man posessed by the very spirit of rock. Challenging but never difficult, playful but never insubstatntial, Kwes is a gifted songwriter and performer – small wonder he's been the go-to producer for so many artists. His full-length debut album will be hotly anticipated when it drops in 2013. 

Melody's Echo Chamber are delightfully summery and ethereal, bringing a dose of sunshine to the rain-soaked festival grounds. Melody Prochet's debut album is a collaboration with Tame Impala's Kevin Parker. Live, Parker is absent, and Prochet is backed by two guitarists and a bassist, cueing the synths and drums herself. Parker's presence is still palpable in the bass-heavy, hip-hop-influenced beats, which anchor and elevate Prochet's wistful, sensual dream pop, sounding like a sexier, less twee Beach House with hints of Serge Gainsbourg. Serge is credited as an influence directly, as the band perform a cover of his collaboration with Jane Birkin, Jane B. Highlights from their exquisite, uplifting set include I Follow You, and a tough-edged version of Crystallized with crunchy, bitcrushed beats, both from her rather wonderful self-titled debut album.

From the sublime, to the bloody awful, as we have a regrettable encounter with French former electro champions-turned-rockers Black Strobe. The tired, unimaginative band plod through cod-disco and punk-funk rhythms, with the occasional stab of juddering, shimmering synth only serving to remind the crowd of the band's former greatness, before the departure of Ivan Smagghe in 2006. Black Strobe have had some noteworthy electronic tracks since then, but their attempts at rock have been mostly abortive. Arnaud Rebotini is not much of a singer, with a small range and a repertoire of cheesy, cliche-ridden lyrics which would make any rock and roll fan wince.

References in one song to a “girl from the bayou” who's got her “mojo workin'” and has “gone to Mississippi” are frankly bizarre coming from a French lounge lizard in a shiny suit, and would have been inexcusably derivative thirty or forty years ago. Another song built around a request for a “doctor, doctor” to fix him up is tedious in the extreme. No wonder the band splashed out on pyrotechnics – it's to distract from the plodding, four-note riffs, the plodding, linear drums and the absolutely godawful vocals of Rebotini. They have become a case study in blandness, and every second they continue to trade on the Black Strobe name is another knife in the back of their once deservedly-great reputation as bastions of French electro. 

By contrast, up-and-comers The 1969 Club have bugger all original about them either, but they carry off their rock pastiche with such flair and charisma that it doesn't matter one little bit. Pilfering liberally from the MC5, Led Zeppelin, The Cramps, Black Sabbath, The Ramones, and even The Gossip, they make a deliriously infectious classic rock-meets-punk racket, all call-and-response vocals and shouty, fist-pumping enthusiasm. It just goes to show that there is absolutely nothing wrong with wearing your influences on your sleeve, or indeed with wholesale appropriation of the style, riffs and attitudes of your favourite bands – you just have to do it with a bit of panache. Anyone looking for a traditional rock and roll fix that would still put the shits up Mum and Dad if played loud enough would be well advised to seek these Rennes-based pranksters out with all due haste. 

Breakdance crew Wanted Posse put on a thrilling display, putting the energy back into the night before Sinkane takes the stage. Mock fights and battles, backflips, headspins, jaw-dropping upside down dancing, solo displays and co-ordinated routines – they really put the work in, and although they only stay for ten minutes, dazzling the crowd to a soundtrack of classic hip-hop and electro breaks, they absolutely dazzle.

The first really frustrating schedule clash of the festival then ensues, as the much-touted TNGHT take to the stage in the main hall at the same time as Brooklyn-based DFA signings Sinkane. Opening with a brooding, atmospheric Jeeper Creeper, garlanded with flourishes of Sudanese-flavoured guitar and breathy, whispered vocals from band leader (and formerly sole member) Ahmed Gallab, the band's flawless playing, tight harmonies and ceaselessly mercurial songs captivate the crowd from the get-go, their reactions intensifying with each track. A sensual, soulful stroll through Baby C'Mon melts every heart and set of knickers in the room, with Gallab's Curtis Mayfield-like falsetto ringing through the spacious hall.

Sinkane's music is by turns exuberant, exquisitely beautiful, tightly-coiled and funky, and his newly-formed band's playing is immaculate. Their are hints of cumbia, reggae, and the damaged disco sound familiar to DFA fans, as well as strong traces of Afrobeat rhythms, which at times recall the Kutis, both Fela and Femi. The band are so good they make Sinkane's complex, compact songs look easy – a tribute to their flawless musicianship. Gallab's time spent on tour with the likes of Yeasayer and Caribou has given him a strong command of the stage and his instruments, and he looks like a natural frontman. Finishing with a space-age, soul-clap assisted take on the powerful funk anthem Running, opening track of Sinkane's sublime recent album Mars, the band leave the crowd delirious. It's a performance of rare beauty and soul-soothing, spiritual depth.

Finally, the much-anticipated performance from TNGHT arrives, and the 3000 or so capacity main hall is rammed to the gunnels. Hudson Mohawke and Lunice don't disappoint, dropping all of their well-known tracks as well as a clutch of new ones, and some very clever reimaginings of familiar hip-hop breaks. Erroneously labelled as a 'trap' act, they prove tonight the truth of their statements in recent interviews – that the duo initiallly got together to create minimal, stripped-down modern hip-hop beats for emcees, taking in elements of crunk, dubstep, trap and myriad other genres without ever losing sight of the purity of their vision. Okay, so arguably TNGHT go dumb. Their music is based on big samples, simple rhythmic patterns and gigantic bass. But they also GO HUGE, in a way that only caps lock can adequately do justice to in text. When those bassbins boom, they do so with a focused intensity and remarkable lack of gimmicky bulllshit which no other live act or producer right now can match. The helium-powered, functionally-insane Higher Ground is the centrepiece of the whole set, and watching the assembled thousands throw themselves about like rioting , ecstasy-overdosed chimps to the relentless swooping synths, pounding bass hits, frantic horn stabs and picthed-up vocal samples is a highlight of the whole festival.

TNGHT are followed by Canadian duo Zeds Dead, who unleash a set of unapologetically over-the-top brostep, trap and glitch. Every tune is hilariously overblown, with punishing, fairground drops and enough sub bass to loosen the bowels of all of the assembled ravers. It really proves the point about the intelligence of TNGHT's take on bass music – by comparison, their beats are models of restraint and dynamics, with the space around the focused, simplistic drums and bass providing the kinetic forward motion. If TNGHT were a movie, they'd be a slick, intelligent gangster flick with lowriders, guns, naked hotties and gritty dialogue. The music of Zeds Dead, by comparison, is a series of brightly coloured explosions with no depth or contrast – if they were a movie it would star Vin Diesel, and would involve car chases and an excess of unlikely face-punching manouevres.

However, taken less than seriously, it's a fun-packed end to a festival which has managed to cram in a breathtakingly diverse lineup of bands, crossing every conceivable genre and a few that probably haven't even been named yet. If you want to be blown away by music you've never heard before, then Trans Musicales is the festival for you.

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To read more of The Skinny's coverage from Trans Musicales 2012, see our reports from day one and two.