Better late than never, here’s a somewhat stream-of-consciousness splurge of thoughts after the delectable enjoyment of this year’s Truck Festival. In summation; a great time was had by all. Or, at least, by this reviewer. But to this reviewer’s eye, everybody else was having a great time too.
A Friday of work meant rolling up at Hill Farm quite late, and darting about at high speed soaking up bits and pieces of whatever was going on. So, some Oxford music treats (in the form of, for example, Candy Says, Dallas Don’t, Von Braun, The Original Rabbit Foot Spasm Band and Grudle Bay) were missed. Boo. Hiss. Ah well.
Car parking, lugging stuff to the campsite and tent-putting-up was done to the distant sound of Ash doing their thing on the Truck Stage; they sounded exactly as they always do, which is no bad thing. They’re an odd band, seemingly locked into garnering the huge appreciation of songs like ‘Girl From Mars’ and ‘Oh Yeah’ for ever, perhaps at the expense of ever doing anything else. But what they do, they do brilliantly, and it sounds as fresh and vibrant as it always has.
Wandering past the Market Stage affords a glimpse of Dry The River, who seem dedicated to lulling enjoyment-hunters to an evening nap with dour, mid-tempo indie fodder, the likes of which is all too prevalent these days. (Nothing like writing off a band based on a few minutes of music during a walk-by, is there?) In the distance, exciting things appear to be taking place on the Veterans & Virgins Stage, as Beta Blocker And The Body Clock generate a rambunctious noise, accompanied by a bonkers lightshow that turns the tent into a flashing beacon; but burger in hand, it’s off back towards the Truck Stage for Spiritualized. Not unlike Ash, they’re somewhat frozen in a past time; but unfortunately – as with their set at 2012’s Wilderness Festival – what should be a brain-gouging attack of psychedelic confusion is massively lessened by a (seated) J.Spaceman’s insistence on generating neo-gospel-tinged sing-songs that are simplistic and repetitive. (And not in a good, Spacemen 3 kind of way).
Saturday! Sunshine! Following a brief trip ‘off-site’, it’s back to the Truck Stage for a relaxed viewing of Arrows Of Love, who are a furious, excellent take on L7-style grunge, stomping out rough’n’arsey punk noise with impressive abandon for an early-afternoon slot. Next, Salvation Bill, in the Barn Stage – converted into an indoor beach for the weekend (a good idea in drunken theory, but in reality, a sandy annoyance that places volleyball players and chattering deckchair users in front of us moody, motionless muso types who can do without the distractions). They’re always a delight to watch, combining increasingly impressive songwriting chops with a sense of theatrical absurdity, and have bulked out their sound with the keyboard sounds of We Aeronauts’ James Cunning, resulting in melodically abstruse indie-pop that’s as challenging as it is immediately rewarding.
On the Market Stage, Toy initially sound like boring ‘we once listened to a Can song’ chancers, but a couple of songs in unveil the fact that they are, in fact, hypnotic Krautrock-tinged masters of what they’re doing. This, J.Spaceman, is how to captivate with rhythm and repetition; it’s a stunning set. Later on the same stage, The Bots, an impossibly young duo from Los Angeles, are ramshackle and charming, like a Death From Above 1979 with training wheels.
Back to the Barn for Crash Of Rhinos, who are fine in that way that a lot of young melodo-alterno-post-post-rock noisemongers are right now: competent, confident and impassioned, but lacking a sense of fiery mayhem to drag them above the masses. Gunning For Tamar – whilst operating with what seems like a similar set of influences and styles – pull it off better; it’s not just a sense of local pride that makes them sound bigger and bolder, but an ability to inject surprises and strangeness into their music.
Bustling into the Saloon, a perfectly-decked-out country-music’n’whisky-drinking shed which seems absolutely full up at all times, a good spot is found from which to observe Huck, performing songs from his Alexander The Great: A Folk Operetta work that are far more entertaining, aggressive and captivating than that serious-sounding title might suggest. Angry folk music for artistic dreamers. Or something.
As the evening draws in, more darting about. The Subways on the Truck Stage sound – at least from a distant listening point – like an unbearably ‘up’ group of drama students playing the part of a pop band; but wandering past ShaoDow on the Kingdom Of Jamalot stage makes up for this, as it’s an unexpectedly fierce, tight and rabble-rousing performance (albeit to a somewhat disappointingly small crowd). To the Barn, for Rolo Tomassi, who are great – a chaotic, noisy barrage of songs, delivered with throat-bleedingly fierce vocals and a perfectly-pitched combination of humour and insanity.
The Horrors top the Truck Stage bill, but they seem too self-consciously serious, doing their best to ensure that we don’t remember that everybody mocked them before they somehow became known as psychedelically-altered cosmic travellers, and sounding too slick and rehearsed to really bring the wonder. Somewhat surprisingly, Fonda 500 – who’ve been regularly playing Truck Festival for many, many years – completely nail the party on the Veterans & Virgins Stage. What in distant memory was once a fey indie-pop band now seems subsumed in an attack of playful energy, the entire band contributing to an infectiously bouncy set that has the bustling tent crowd rapt. They’re aggressively melodic, and melodically aggressive, and a fantastic way to end the day. (No chance of properly catching The Epstein, unfortunately, as the Saloon is just too busy – if it helps, they sounded nice from outside…)
And that’s it. Another year, another Truck; and a good year that combined the old-style DIY Truck atmosphere with the efficient running of a large festival. A huge line-up is inevitably musically diverse and will never cater for all tastes throughout; but that’s not the point. There’s a lot more going on. Making the most of the sights and sounds on offer, avoiding the chuggers and ‘SUSHI! SUSHI’-yelling food sellers, mulling on how Truck and its crowd have become more mainstream over the last couple of years, whilst maintaining a sense of localness and quirkiness, it’s a festival at which it’s a pleasure to just be.