Sports Team on Day 2 of Leeds Festival 2021 (Gary Mather for Live4ever)
Having been running since 2005, the Dot To Dot Festival – with the majority of the bill performing in Bristol on Saturday before decamping up the M5 to Nottingham the following day – has become a staple of the cities’ respective music calendars and, judging by the warm response (and being sold out long in advance), the pandemic has not hindered its momentum.
Of course, the main issue with city festivals (like most festivals) is that the punters are spoilt for choice. Although it’s not the same size as one of the major cities, Bristol is still a city, and while several of the venues are in close proximity, several others occupy the outskirts.
In addition, the itinerary is so packed (with circa 12 venues participating) that the timetable simply doesn’t allow any margin for travel. For much of the day, the bands get a half-hour stage time with no let-up, ergo if you want to watch one band at 3pm then another at 3.30pm in another venue, one runs the risk of missing a chunk of one or either band.
Such is life, so the best tactic is often to stay in one location. The O2 Academy had the luxury of two ‘venues’, with a short walk upstairs to see the next band. Wych Elm had the honour of kicking off the day’s…festivities, and while their brand of slacker-grunge doesn’t exactly get the already-busy crowd dancing, they certainly blow away any cobwebs to start the day in bracing fashion.
Meanwhile, upstairs Nottingham hopefuls Reflekter affirm their position of fully-formed swaggering rockers, with a bluesy stomp that is carried well by singer James Gooch who sneers like Jagger and emotes like Corgan. Undoubtedly ones to watch, and the reaction they received the next day (in their hometown) would surely have been one of the highs of their short career.
Back in the main room, Chubby And The Gang await. Having released two albums of millennial frustration set to rock music in quick succession, they bludgeon the audience with relentless slabs set of punk-metal.
Singer Charlie ‘Chubby Charles’ Manning-Walker prowls the stage like a man possessed, never standing still unless he’s spitting a tirade into the microphone. At points his voice is so muffled and growling that it’s a tad too Slipknot for some tastes, and certainly not for the faint-hearted, but the passion and vitriol cannot be denied. Heads are banged accordingly.
After such an aural assault, The Clockworks are a refreshing tonic. The Galway four-piece certainly weren’t idle in 2020, releasing a string of indie anthems which makes their 2021 set watertight and all killer, no filler (sorry).
Feels So Real is a moody whirlwind, while Stranded In Stansted is a burst of calculated energy which deserves a larger audience than those in attendance. However, it’s only a matter of time until they are playing bigger venues and therefore it’s a privilege to be watching them at this stage in their career. In these times of endless bad news, set closer The Future Is Not What It Was becomes more relevant each passing day.
Over at The Lanes (one of venues playing host to local bands, those not travelling north the following day) Bristolians Nossiennes live up to their Instagram bio of experimental shoegaze.
However, their bio doesn’t do justice to their volume and intensity, culminating in a controlled but ethereal frenzy for the last song of their set, which rattles the windows of the venue. For those who like their soundscapes loud, Nossiennes are well worth further investigation.
With time running out, it becomes a race against the clock to cram in as much as possible. Over at The Exchange (one of the venues on the perimeter), Wu-Lu frustratingly eats up 15 minutes of his set with last minute sound-checks. When he does eventually start, the trip-hop elements of the set shimmer blissfully while the more percussion-led moments are defined by piercing snare drum. Perhaps aware of their self-indulgence, as compensation one of the guitarists hops off the stage to generate some energy, as requested by his singer. It works.
But unfortunately, your correspondent is only able to watch the first section of the set before hot-footing it over to The Fleece for Snapped Ankles. The mysterious mob’s former gonzo electro-rock is evolving to incorporate old-school rave electronica, akin to Orbital’s more hands-in-the-air moments.
Hiding beneath their trademark ghillie masks, the ridiculousness of the evidence of the eyes contrasts against the evidence of the ears, as always. The mobbed venue is clearly in agreement, with not one person leaving before the set concludes (yours truly wasn’t able to get much further beyond the front door).
Back at the O2 Academy, indie darlings Sports Team are the headline act. Quietly, gradually, but certainly, the sextet are taking over the country and the set. While not the tightest (singer Alex Rice’s words), it’s so full of energy that any flaws are forgiven. Louder than on record, they’ve beefed up their sound so it fills the 1600-capacity venue with ease. Their ascent continues.
As with all festivals, one is left with the ambivalence of joy at what has just been witnessed in conjunction with what has been missed. Palace, Heavy Lungs, Girl Band and Black Honey were among many, many other bands at a festival which goes from strength to strength.
