CARDBOARD COWBOY (13) cheer me up right away because there's a a saxophone and a double bass on stage. What a good start to a lovely Saturday morning. Here is skiffly punky rock and plenty of roll done with authentic spirit and much love. The absolute top moment – and still one of the moments of the Festival for li'l ole me – is that archetypal guitar line coming in after the harmonica on "If It Don't Feel Like Rock And Roll". It's even better than on the first album. A good chunk of this set is given over to new songs from the glittering new album.
ALI WHITTON (14, 15) smiles like a cherub with a bag of sherbet dib dabs in his pocket. After all the "HOW YA DOIN'LEEEEEEDS' shouts we've had so far, his "Hello, are you having quite a nice time? Has anyone been to the toilet?" is great [this was actually said by someone else, but it fits, so we'll let it pass - ed.]. It breaks the sun behind the clouds and everyone leans forward for a better listen. The band play gracefully, simply and with confident strength. Viola with two voices and two acoustic guitars ravish with a warm glow. This is the genuine article. Quiet as he is, Ali draws more people into the crowd with every song.
THE KIKS (16) are a raggedy looking 5 piece band. Their hesitant start, with backs turned to the audience eventually bursts into a raw classic punk chord rush with shouty vocals and maximum distortion pedal deployment. Fans are lapping this up with enthusiasm. One song has a poppier KASABIAN feel to it. There are some cute keyboard parts too. But the crowd thins a bit and it's not too clear to me what the band are really driving at. There is at least one other band around called The Kiks, but this lot have a distinctive frontman with a flair for self projection.
CENSORED (17) are a three piece band with suits and Blues Brothers hats. The ghost of Paul Weller stalks the backstage area as much-filtered soul music showers us with effortless aplomb. There's a great gang of shouting, pointing fans. A big highlight is the ripping cover of Otis Redding's "Shake". These boys have the guts to take it on, and enough talent to make it sound like they mean it. As well as the first cover on the Unsigned stage they also present the first drum solo. Cheeky monkeys.
WESTERN SUBURBS (18) bring us the guilty pleasure of shifting chords on beautiful vintage Fender guitars. The weather is kind and there are loads of friends in a big crowd. The pedal steel moment arrives and the heart races – Marc Ransley can really play the damn thing, but he teasingly limits us to one gorgeous song before going back to that regular guitar. There's a charming lack of stage presence and swagger. These are ordinary shy guys who could probably take a break from the Oxfam Shop closing-down sale look without compromising the lovely music they make. The final song has glorious double guitar playing and firm harmony singing.
ILiKETRAiNS (19) are moving into a much wider terrain these days– in terms of audience recognition and musical confidence. Their British Rail uniforms are neatly pressed and buttoned for the occasion and the Station Master seems to have persuaded Ashley the cornet player to have a hair cut. Dave the singer is louche, deep voiced and serenely calm as he dissects our imagination with his psychological scalpel. The lyrics chill while the slow building cresendos eventually batter us onto the rocks of euphoria. The recent single "Before The Curtains Close" is especially majestic. The set ends with a roar of feedback and bowed guitar frenzy. Rather spiffing.
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YOUR VEGAS (20) have arrived from a different sector of the universe for this gig. Technically an unsigned band, they have a strong whiff of industry grooming and ambition. Singer Coyle Girelli is a self absorbed poser who belts out their incredibly hooky songs like an old-time pro, Mal Taylor's drumming is breathtaking and the stage looks small for the first time this weekend. Songs like "Aurora" and "Your Vegas" sound like we've always known them, and even if we haven’t they're going to stick with us for the rest of the festival. A diffident guitarist plays muscular guitar lines that the kids will want to learn.
FITY NINE VIOLETS (21) are a more prosaic four bloke guitar band doing trashy punk with flagons of energy and sharp attitude. It’s simple, it’s tight, it stabs and jerks and the guy can carry a song from one end of the street to the other. The audience is small at first, but the energy gets more people stopping all the time. They don’t just do songs – they build a whole set with strong attacking guitar playing and the main man is cheery and communicative. There's a more than a shard of heavy metal in the Rutts-style punk. Neat.
CHICKEN LEGS WEAVER (22,23) arrive with new recruit Jane Howden on bass and a string-tie wearing Mik Glaisher on drums. Slide-playing Andy Weaver is on the top of his considerable game. The sun is going down behind the trees and it must be whiskey time. Weaver's pale blue eyes sear out from a money launderer's face and his gravel voice draws in victims one at a time to gawp at the thrill of real desperation blues. After the angry blast of "In The Brown" he goes on to something funkier with Howden's bass as lascivious as hell. "The Ballad of Jarvis Lumm" is a perfect set closer, and I'm in raptures.
65 DAYS OF STATIC (24) have the biggest crowd of the day, soaking up the last of the day's solar radiation. The set is based on a glitchy techno sound from the machinery with almost but not quite random forays of guitar bass drums addiction. There's no obvious shape to this exploratory stuff and the devoted crowd of fans gives only the slightest physical clues about how the rest of us should react. I kind of want to hurl myself about in a suitably spasmodic and random way, but there's a seriousness about the proceedings that holds me back. My inner jury is confused. But what a day. Blinding.
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