Electric Fields 2018: Review
Electric Fields remains a diverse, enjoyable weekend of music, but when End of the Road offers much the same, plus incredible headliners, it’s hard not to want more from a flagship Scottish event
Electric Fields finds itself at a pivotal point of growth five years in. The small festival in Dumfries and Galloway has appealed to three core groups so far: families looking for a good day out; dedicated music fans; local school leavers wanting to get smashed in a field. Sometimes a combination of the three – such is the tradition for a great Scottish festival. Thanks to its friendly atmosphere and sturdy bill of local talent, Electric Fields has happily skewed closer to the first two demographics.
Now that it's grown to a three-day event, it's working hard to appeal to all. For the indieheads, you’ve got cult heroes like Young Fathers, Idles and Ezra Furman on the line-up – bands which while just short of household names, are certainly three of the best live acts currently touring. And for the families – you know James, right? They’ve got that one song everybody knows. And that other one. They’ll do as a headliner...
The disjointed nature of this year’s line-up is evident on the opening night when the smaller tents are yet to open. Ezra Furman kicks off the evening brilliantly, with intense and passionate subversions on rockabilly and glam. Most of the set is new material from the personal excavation of album Transangelic Exodus. Furman yelps and howls through the set as electric cello and bleating saxophone swirl around them. “This song’s about a little red dress from a charity shop,” Furman teases before tearing into the aptly titled highlight Maraschino Red Dress $8.99 at Goodwill. Furman's lyrics are raw in their approach to mental health and gender dysphoria, which makes the instantaneous nature of Furman's songwriting even more impressive.
Cult favourites Ride take the main stage later, for a set of hazy, blissed-out shoegaze. Their very best material hasn’t aged a day since their glory days, and it’s wonderful to see how humbled and grateful the band are to be performing it now.
Before long, James are on for their headline set. It’s by far the biggest crowd of the night, but that might be because there’s no other act on. Lead singer Tim Booth swaggers around the stage from the off. He’s well used to this slot by now. The band have been a small festival mainstay since their return in 2007, making for a comfortable, unsurprising hour-and-a-half. The group’s bulked-up versions of their classic material are workmanlike in their search for a chorus. You could telegraph the crescendos from a mile away.
The new stuff, like the dance/spoken word/cock-rock Frankenstein Extraordinary Times, is painful in its flaccid search for edge. ‘I wanna fuck you until we break through into other dimensions’ Booth drawls, waddling through the lines with audacious corniness. Still, the set hits all the notes its meant to, especially on the stripped-back singalong closer Sit Down, which is somehow both comforting and monotonous at the same time. By our predictions, the band have played the song AT LEAST 283 times, not including encores. That's 11,603 individual 'Oh sit down's. It shows.
The early acts on Friday highlight the other side of Electric Fields – the local showcase. St.MARTiiNS are a clear standout in the BBC tent, playing tight, dexterous indie-bop that pivots smoothly between jangly and soulful. Katie Lynch’s jazzy melodies cut right through the band’s energetic, woozy approach to a well-worn style. Many of the songs switch gears multiple times, referencing a gorgeous collage of indie rock staples from the past few years. Fans of anyone from The Smiths, to Vampire Weekend or CHRVCHES, could find something to love.
Still, the festival’s larger sense of scale is reflected in some of the international acts they pull. Many of them are fantastic. London-based Nigeria-born Ibibio Sound Machine captivate with the most frenetic funk set you’re likely to see from a touring band. The grooves and textures aren’t lost among the literal bells and whistles that fill each song up with colour. Later, the much-hyped American indie rock group Soccer Mommy pack out the Arc stage with a nostalgic, moody collection of songs. The topics are familiar territory (love, self-image, growing up), but Sophie Allison’s lyrical poise make her stories feel tangible. The snark and heft on Your Dog capture lustful angst so well that you’d think she invented it. She’s not the only act breathing new life into indie rock; Dream Wife and Shame tackle pop-punk and post-punk with grit and passion, making the genre feel vital. You could remove the headliners from the occasion completely and still end up with a sturdy festival, well worth the weekend.
It’s a shame then that Soccer Mommy have Noel Gallagher to compete with on the main stage. Just like his brother’s set at TRNSMT earlier this summer, Noel offers a safe bet for the organisers. His performance guarantees a sea of parkas and bucket hats in the crowd, even if his appearance seems jarring around all the forward-thinking acts beneath him. Still, it would be nice for a Scottish festival to think outside of the canon when choosing a headliner, instead of wheeling out a Gallagher and calling it a day.
As Gallagher #1 wraps up on the main stage, Young Fathers begin at BBC Introducing stage. People are spilling out of the tent with minutes to go. There are whispers that they should have headlined. With their Cocoa Sugar tour, the punk/rap/gospel/electronic/everything trio refined their stage show to a rare experience. The three stand in stark silhouettes, trading verses with interplay that feels off-the-cuff in its drive. Their slickness couldn’t possibly be. What’s most impressive is how well their material fuses across their discography. From the nocturnal rumbling of Wire, to the lo-fi shuffle of Shame, to their religious awakening Only God Knows, every song combines into a whirlwind of joy, anger and catharsis. They should have headlined.
Saturday is a similarly disjointed day, with the line-up stretching to appeal to everyone. Once again it’s the newer local talent that stands out. The Vegan Leather offer a goofy, charismatic party that’s impossible not to smile at. Their indie dance songs throw taste (and staying on pitch) out the window in favour of a good time. Songs like I Take American are gems, totally deserving of their underdog main stage placement.
Scottish rap cult heroes Stanley Odd also impresses with their defiantly untrendy songs that skew towards technique and politics. Some of it boils down to sloganeering, like the adjective soup of THIS IS STANLEY ODD, a clear nod to Blackalicious' Alphabet Aerobics. Dave Hook is a talented MC, but the inconsequential way he ties some lines together is a massive contrast to the nuanced poetry we got from Kate Tempest’s similarly political set last year.
Scottish electronic acts Wuh Oh and Makeness both excel in their performances. Wuh Oh’s music is joyously scatterbrained, jumping from dreamy hip-hop to tumbling jazz loops to chaotic club tracks. A good deal of it is pre-programmed, requiring just a synth line or a few button presses to get going, but Pete Ferguson takes full advantage of that freedom, theatrically contorting his body to the tunes, popping out to the front of the stage to add a story to his beats. While he does so, his puppet co-star Baboon mans the decks, in a surreal, giddy and childlike approach to dance music.
Makeness instead opts for hypnotic grooves and a different kind of physicality. Backed by live drums, with a loop pedal at his feet and guitar around his shoulder, Kyle Molleson’s old-school approach to house and techno is raw and vivid. He never lets a beat settle, like on Rough Moss where his fingers constantly adjust the gain, the bass and distortion, morphing his wiry guitar lines into bleating elements. His father joins him on violin for Day Old Death and even then the melodies are warped into wide-eyed, alien textures. One album in, his craft is masterful.
It’s hard to complain about a festival that’s offering so many special, fresh talents. It’s especially difficult when the weekend finishes with one of the very best live bands in the world. IDLES' rapid, natural rise to fame has been singular for a British rock band. Their caustic, urgent approach to punk music has truly revitalised the genre, while Joe Talbot’s scathing lyrics on class, gender and inequality are delivered with a bite that makes them hit with importance and staying power. Their live performances are on another level. The group are an impossibly well-oiled machine made of screeching guitars and pummelling drums. Their set cuts all the fat and pomp of your typical stadium-sized set in favour of rough and purposeful aggression. Every song tackles a different form of bigotry, twisting immigration and toxic masculinity into ideas to banish with singalong choruses. That’s not to say that the band can’t put on a spectacle. They dance around each other with their guitars, tumbling through the set half dressed. Before long, most of the drum kit is in the crowd. Their new album reached the top five the very next week.
Electric Fields remains a diverse, enjoyable weekend of music, but when End of the Road offers much the same, plus incredible headliners, it’s hard not to want more from a flagship Scottish event.
Electric Fields 2018 took place at Drumlanrig Castle, Dumfries and Galloway, 30 Aug-1 Sep
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