Galtres Festival may have rebranded and relocated, but still promised the same mix of regional acts alongside some more heavyweight headliners, complimented by a proper beer festival with over 100 local brews in the ale and cider department.
I very soon discovered that the site at Duncombe Park, near Helmsley, is rather further from York than the previous location, but the setting was little short of spectacular, not to mention much, much larger. This meant hotfooting it between stages wasn’t quite as easy as in previous years, but the schedule seemed to take that into account, and moreover, the sound at each stage was afforded appropriate volume with only minimal bleed.
On Friday night, the Black Howl stage was the place to be, with the BBC unsigned sessions, with HONEYTONE CODY providing an early festival highlight. I got settled down with a pint of Wensleydale Coverdale Poacher IPA as the trio launched a salvo of new (to me, at least) material at the front end of an uncompromising set. True to form, they delivered a percussion-heavy sonic assault was dark and magnificently intense. BULL followed up with an excellent set: the performance was chirpy, chatty and upbeat, and their brand of 90s US indie / college rock, that’s melodic and harmony-rich is the kind of stuff 6 Music loves, and proves that being unsigned is by no means an indication of a lack of talent.
RED CHEVRONS sounded great across the field as I made my way via the beer tent (wherein I discovered the staggeringly tasty Black Jesus, brewed by the Great Heck brewery and boasting a seriously meaty 6.5%) to the main stage to observe REEF’s performance. I never really did get the appeal of their third rate Zeppelin rip-offs and mediocre rock posturing, and Gary Stinger’s straining to take a shit vocals, and I still don’t, but they kicked off an energetic set with ‘Come Back Brighter’ and a good 2,000 were loving it.
As the rain set in for the night, I took cover in the Little Top where BATTLE LINES turned in an admirably tight set boasting an embarrassment of musical riches.
Saturday got off to a good start with local legends BOSS CAINE gracing the Black Howl stage. Layering up the sound with some nice strings, Dan Lucas led his cohorts through a collection of characteristically world-weary songs that were well received by the respectful – and respectably-sized – audience.
Keeping things acoustic on the same stage, rock monsters WE COULD BE ASTRONAUTS played a stripped-back set, augmented by a two-piece string section. That isn’t to say they mellowed it out by any stretch, with a ukelele winding up stringless on the floor in front of the stage only a couple of songs in.
From there I legged it over to the Oxman Stage to catch the second half of LA BÊTE BLOOMS’ set. There’s a real charm to their indie grunge-pop tunes, and they’ve come a long way in a short time, not least of all in terms of confidence. AFFAIRS who followed them proved to be an extremely interesting proposition, blending post-punk with math-rock to good effect. Intricate rhythms picked their way through complex interlooping guitar motifs, and while the brooding baritone vocals may be an acquired taste – a bit Wild Beasts without all the falsetto stuff – there’s no question they’ve got great prospects and proved to be a decent find.
Over on the main state, LAUREL CANYONS rocked out with some energetic Americana, while in the crowd, some rather butch-looking girls played football with a coconut, and I decided I’d be better off back at the Oxman stage. It was the right call to make: THE HOLY ORDERS – with a dash of Manic Street Preachers and a bucketload of big guitars and enough raw energy to power the entire festival for the weekend – were nothing short of awesome.
The rain descended as THE LITTLEMORES took to the main stage, but it seemed fitting for their gritty northern social commentaries. On one hand reminiscent of Arctic Monkeys, on the other introducing some lively ska to the sound, it was going to take more than some precipitation to dampen their spirits as they played through a solid set that saw material from their new EP featured prominently.
Stopping in to recharge my glass with some Geeves Brewery’s Navvy’s Nightcap (dark and very strong at 7.2%), I took shelter in the Little Top while JONNY GILL entertained us with a selection of heartfelt and sincere acoustic compositions and shamefully bad jokes. He succeeded in building a rapport with the audience, and doubtless won himself some new fans.
Over in the Black Howl marquee, the Pink Floyd themed Wish You Were Here sessions were graced by Nick Harper. Demonstrating a remarkable vocal range and a truly unique style of guitar-playing, his songwriting and between-song banter proved every bit as quirky as his musicianship. Although far from being immediately accessible, his performance was definitely memorable. The same can be said of JOHNNY BORRELL over on the Duke Stage, as he demonstrated why his debut solo album only sold 524 copies in the first week if its release. The less said about his laughably lame self-indulgent wankery the better.
By now, it was teaming with rain, and as the crowds headed away from the outdoor stages in favour of the covered areas, LLOYD COLE could have packed out the Black Howl tent twice over. By the time I arrived, it was six or more rows deep outside as people with umbrellas and cagoules strained to hear his laid-back acoustic set. Cole seemed at ease and affable, and, fittingly, went down a storm.
Sunday was a new dawn and a new day and brilliant sun shone down on Galtres, bringing with it a substantial influx of daytrippers. I elected to set up camp by the Black Howl after charging my glass – if only because it meant GLASS CAVES were out of range. Still, HOLLY TAYMAR wasn’t bad at all and was rapturously received. In contrast, TOM SKELLY’s darkly introverted ponderings required an intimate setting and didn’t translate so well to a tent on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
I strolled up to the Oxman stage to give HORSE GUARD’S PARADE my ear for a while. If Their country / folk stylings were largely unremarkable, they were at least pleasant and suited the setting. Returning to camp having switched to cider – a half of Gwatkin’s supremely appley Kingston Black at 6.5% - I took in some of HAYLEY GAFTERNICK’s set. Reminiscent of Tracey Chapman, it was ok but not really my bag.
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THE HOT SOLES’ description in the programme didn’t really give much cause for excitement (‘Two piece (guitar/drums) from Rotherham with great stage presence. Soul/blues based guitar songs’), and I popped over to check them out largely out of curiosity as to how they would make the guitar/drums permutation work. I arrived at the mid-point of their time slot to find only one man on stage, drumming his arms off. So where was the guitar noise coming from? Then I spotted a big fella standing in the field, wringing raucous blues rock from his Les Paul and was immediately sold on the Soles.
While listening to TROUBADOUR’s accomplished but generic folk rock set, I found myself wondering if festival-friendly middle ground was the aspiration of all bands nowadays and decided it probably is, because it’s so difficult to survive as an artist I the current climate that there are few other options open in terms of connecting with an audience of any size. I blame Radio 1, Mumford and Sons and, well, there are many who are guilty in the state of things. I should point out that the obviously-named but suitably soulful Troubadour weren’t bad, just bland, aural chewing gum that’s three years old, but in context, worked just fine. I’m simply a grouchy fucker. The invasion of the tent by a bunch of trolls wasn’t entirely warranted (unlike their descent on Johnny Borrell’s performance the night before).
Maybe it was because I’d had a gutful of melodic folk rock that THE TRAVELLING BAND didn’t impress me nearly as much as they had in 2012, and HANDMADEHANDS’ brand of ‘melody driven anti-folk’ failed to stir my enthusiasm.
Neither country nor folk, nor melodic ...AND THE HANGNAILS are a duo who definitely don’t subscribe the the festival-friendly middle ground, or have any need for a bassist. Cranking everything up to 15 helps, as does having a truly phenomenal drummer. Martyn Fillingham might resemble Ian McCulloch more each time he plays, and he certainly looks at home on a larger stage, but there’s no confusing the two as the former serves up fearsome riffmongery to forge a blistering garage racket that’s anything but safe. Raw, edgy and tight with immense firepower, their searing guitar-driven set was a real festival highlight.
By contrast, THE UNDERTONES seemed rather stodgy. Not that they lacked energy as they kicked off a hit-laden set with ‘Jimmy Jimmy’ and soon dispatched ‘Here Comes Summer’, too. In fairness, they engaged with the audience and yes, they sounded great. Sidestepping the question of whether or not the band without Feargal Sharkey is little more than a tribute, the fact that his replacement, Paul McLoone, has an obvious beer-gut tucked into his tight-fitting leather jacket just ain’t cool. No matter, ‘Teenage Kicks’ predictably got the whole field jumping, and rightly so.
Back on the Oxman Stage, HOPE AND SOCIAL turned in a crowd-pleasing set of a different sort, with bouncy tunes, banter and audience participation in abundance. They’re a reliable and lively live act, very much a good-time band and as such, the ideal festival band.
Every other area must have emptied for THE STRANGLERS, and judging by the number of their T-Shirts and those for a host of other punk acts, there were a lot of people present who had really only come for them. But they were also an excellent choice of headliner, kicking out hit after hit after hit, with ‘Duchess’ and ‘No More Heroes’ sounding particularly strong. After a clutch of more recent songs, they’re down to business with a rousing ‘(Get a) Grip (On Yourself)’, and it’s soon followed with a stonking ‘Peaches’, a gritty ‘Nice ‘n’ Sleazy’ and of course, ‘Golden Brown’. Having maintained the same core lineup through the years, and having not gone down the split up / reform nostalgia route, there’s an authenticity about them so many of their peers lack. Add to that the fact they’re still looking and sounding lean and mean, and you’ve got a first-rate performance to close off the weekend’s proceedings on the main stage.
Rather than head straight for the exit, I was revved up for more rock action, and WE COULD BE ASTRONAUTS full electric set in the Little Top fit the bill nicely. The place was jammed and the volume was up and they powered through some choice cuts from their album in radically different set from the day before. The band was on roaring form, but the set was abridged after singer Rob’s antics with the mic stand didn’t jibe well with the events staff, eventually leading him take his coat and exit the stage. Did I feel short changed? Hell no, who wants their rock bands to be predictable?
And so concluded a superb weekend of bands and beer. Really, who does need the bigger festivals when the smaller ones pack in so much?
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