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Clockenflap 2013 - final cut by Nick the Bookman It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. (What the Dickens, Charles! Nick, I prefer Nick. Charles is my second name, seldom used until now. Anyway...)
It's the best of times because after five previous iterations, Clockenflap 2013 is becoming a big, burly, brooding behemoth of a blast of a festival. Three days - 29/11/2013, 30/11/2013 and 1/12/2013. This is a good thing. Much more rock to clap at Clockenflap. It's the best of times because previous reviews have tried to top the ones before. I think of them as one evolving continual mega-story. But, I'm running out of superlatives. So, Revise The Formula. From now on every show is "Betterer Than The Bestest"". Easy, flattering synopsis. Job Done. Hope you enjoyed this terse precis. You want more? I can tell. Take Two.
It's the worst of times because I completely failed to achieve one of my most "deep space thinking" pet projects. Yep, no cloning has occurred to enable me to see multiple gigs at once. (see 'Flap 2012 review). I blame BushReich. The fuckers have screwed up almost all of everything since the start of The Third Millennium. The Binary Day - 01/01/01. Even better is the Binary Second 0:1 0:1 0:1/01/01/01. Did you enjoy it. 61 minutes, 1 second into New Millennium Day. Chances are you were most likely singing, sleeping, snogging or swigging. Or maybe plotting a grimly fiendish future military occupation of Planet Earth from some cave like Pentagon. Yeah, like that ever only happens in the fiction of the late Tom Clancey. I do digress a bit. I'm sorry. It's all part of the Evolving Now of the SpaceTimeContinuum. Which basically precedes, subsumes and supercedes our linear wa-(Unless you've been unfortunate enough to take the brown acid)-y of thinking which is Past to Future. More fun when All is Simultaneous. All is One.
And that's me. Pontus, my hunky Finnish heartthrob nephew isn't here this year. But I'm wearing his Tuska Crew 2011 t-shirt in solidarity.(An
EN for Tatu (Mr. Finland), the drummer from Efterklang. SUVILAHDEN HURMAAJA. You're the first Finn to read this within the story and can hopefully explain the back-history). There'll probably be more
EN's occurring. Briefly, I've got the MTR to Kowloon Station. Got off to find the ticket doesn't work. Relatively common experience. Get to the Media entrance where the gorgeously swoonsome and helpful Kinny gets me my media pass. Chat to Justin the Musical Director. "Hi. Enjoyed your interview with Mike on The Word. Who's replacing Two Door Cinema Club? "The Strypes". "O.K. They're a great band". I've got some minor reservations about Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. One fan described them as "surly" in a brief interview in Classic Rock. Give them the b. of the d. and figure it was just post-ironic. I read a Kasabian interview where they said the only gig they cancelled was due to a "Black Rebel Motorcycle Club thumb injury". What realms of rock behaviour are being covered up within that statement?. Anyway, I'm inside now.
The layout is much as before. Harbourflap and Robot stages to our collective left upon entry. Middling walk to the Your Mum Stage and double that again to the circular grassy knoll arena which hosts the Replay and Electric Owl Stages. Never made it to the Vans Stage and the Film Tent. Never made it to Memphis either which was the late Mick Farren's lament. He was responsible for all the
EN cosmic fairydust of the paragraph before last. RIP O Deviant Chief! Check out his band's debut album
"PTOOOFF" or variant spellings. Work a little here. Break some cyber-sweat.
First stop is Your Mum where ANWIYCTI are making some noise. The acroynm stands for A New World If You Can Take It. The quartet (as opposed to Fourtet who is a onetet) are three bassists and a drummer (mostly). There's Equus on lead bass bass. Joey is the plinky noodly melodic guitar bass. Kun is on trippy FX-play-with-a-violin-bow bass. Plus a smatter of keyboards. Pie handles the thunder drums. They are lovers of dissonance as well as melody and the space rocking starts here. Thanks to Tricia, their lovely #1 fan for the band details. For a first gig, Clockenflap isn't a bad way to start. For me, they recall Peter Hook's now defunct Freebass project and Apokalyptika, another quartet who play hideously expensive cellos and reconstruct/deconstruct Metallica. While also sounding like astral Ennio Morricone. Time for more space trucking.
Back at Harbourflap for the end of Movember. Rene's hosting a mustache-off between Jason and Johnny. Jason wins for best response to the question: If you could shave your mustache into a statement it would be...? "Fuck Cancer!". Johnny agrees and just wins the sash for Best Facial Foliage. The scene is set for The Strypes to make a blistering debut and erase all memories of the unfortunate Two Door who? I'm with Chunny who's hoping for some Ramones and Simon who says he's been hammering their debut LP for months. And Eva's Dave who's here to more than make up the numbers.
The four teens, only Josh is legally allowed to drink, bonded over a shared love of early Sixties R n' B and swaggering blues. Topped off by some fiery harmonica. The thrills within the trills. In the first few songs, they evoke The Who. The way the singer swings the mike is pure Roger. The leap in the air with feet kicked back is perfect Pete T. Who is a fan of the band. The harmonica playing and interplay is Yardbirds (without the feedback) and Them (without piano). Shit, a hint of electric jug could make them into Roky Erickson and the 13th Floor Elevators. (Without all the brown acid from above, obviously). They are punctilious about thanking Clockenflap for bringing them here. They name all their songs. Most of which I forgot to write down. They big up BRMC who are following them on the bill. They announce who they are. In alphabetical instrumental order they are: Pete on bass. Ewan on drums. Josh on guitar. Ross on vocals and main harmonica. One one track Josh plays bass while Pete plays harmonica or harp and Ross plays guitar. There's a splendid cover of
"You Can't Judge A Book By Its Cover" by the late Sky Saxon and the Seeds. Chunny also gets his Ramone's moment. I've started an Androgynous Drummers debate. Andrew looks like his face has jumped straight off the cover of the New York Dolls debut LP. He and Pete are the Mitch and Noel of the band, due to their burgeoning curly hair starting to morph into white boy proto afros. By Mitch and Noel I am referring to the Jimi Hendrix Experience. Meanwhile, Josh and Ross are the only two people on the planet right now who can make
That HAIRCUT!!! by Justin Bieber look remotely cool. The first Breakout Performance of this Festival.
One glowing tribute to The Strypes now comes from the ethereal Nicole. She wrote that it's
"The closest we're getting to The Beatles in this day and age". She's right if you consider the early Beatles, honed from the hard yards in Hamburg, rocking out before their triumphant return to Liverpool's Cellar. Welcome to the story, love. Enjoy your very own paragraph.
Who knows where the time goes. Sandy Denny didn't and I'm lost too. I'm on the fringes of Your Mum grooving along to the decidedly dubtripbleepbeats of Willow Beats. They seem like amiable Aussies from Queensland, rapt at being here. I didn't get their names, but he looks like he's escaped from the front cover of
"Freak Out" by the Mothers Of Invention', She's swathed in lace and shawls like Stevie Nicks. Barefoot and doing slow arabesques around the stage while crooning like some delicious blend of Nina Hagen and Ofra Haze. Theatrical and operatic in places, they're one of the more offbeat and pleasant surprises on offer. Too much to see. Too little time to hear it in.
Karina's arrived by now. In a hurry to see FourTet weave his laptop digital sorcery. He's on the Replay Stage where I'm blown away to find ex-Lammaniacs Sean and Big Mark doing a more than professional job of making everything run slow and easy. Maintain The Even Strain. Sean says almost everyone appears to have happy dances in their eyes as they get down to this remote corner of West Kowloon Hub. Karina's been really busy. We exchange a few greetings and I don't see her for the rest of the weekend. The Boys I do keep up with. They're my main conduit to getting backstage to interview selected performers. Big Mark is really looking forward to BRMC. I feel I should check them out as well, but don't want to miss FourTet. It's about a five minute knee-trembly walk from Harbourflap to Replay. Practical logic suggests I see the first part of FourTet and then roar off to BRMC's debut. Because, it's quicker to leave the Hub and get on the MTR to get the 2230 HKFF and then walk home. I don't care if I Miss the 2230 ferry. The 2330 will/does/has sufficed. Practical logic is wrong in this case. I should have watched all of FourTet, using the latest in applied successful Festival Logic.
I'm not quite sure how BRMC blew it. One quote I heard was "Relentlessly adequate. Your basic stoner rock." BRMC have been compared to JAMC, MBV and Ride. There wasn't any Mary Chain feedback and reverb. There wasn't any Valentine outerspace-meets-galactic-whales type solos. There wasn't a frenzy of FX pedal mashing like Ride. That I could see. In fairness, I'm stone cold ignorant of the BRMC musical body of work. I'd just heard the above mentioned bands used as reference points The drummer is also a bit androgynous. Looks a bit like Rickie Lee Jones. Turns out be She. Good at what She does. I couldn't hear any song titles. No introductions, No bigging up Clockenflap. Most of the songs probably came from the latest LP which is
"Specter At The Feast". Sort of showcases a new mellower stonerdelic direction. There was one bit of fan interaction during the last song. Bassman jumped off the stage. Approached the crowd barrier and was politely mobbed by half a dozen fans who helped him play a solo. I'm reminded of the Mel Smith/Griff Rhys-Jones talking faces about grooving to Status Quo. "Der-dun-der-dun-der-dun-der-dun..."
(ad nauseum) where they wake up and everything but the lava lamp has been nicked from their grotty student squat. Incidentally, Big Mark lasted the first song. "Right, I've seen them. Time to go". And like Zebedee, he did, (but not to bed).
OK, here's Noble and her moment of infinite glory (by infinite I obviously mean the next 100 trillion years until the eventual and total Heat Death Eradication Of The Universe. After that, me and Sandy Denny
still won't know where the Space
Time goes). Anyway, her little chunk of enlightenment goes as follows. "I think Clockenflap is one of the biggest music Festivals in HK. Enjoy these three days with your heart and soul". There's also a comment "Zenegeist" in 7B. Search It. Seek and you shall find. Let's get inter-active here, folks.
While leaving BRMC's fateful final musical flourishes to float away into freespace, Toby, Amit and Mark are enhancing my enjoyment of this Friday. Toby is spot on. "This is my second Clockenflap. Just as good as the first, but with more toilets". Amit is more cryptic. "Ïf you don't ask, you don't get. Clockenflap gives a lot". Without our asking, they nourish our starving musical spirit. And Mass takes this Friday experience to a whole new level. He doesn't write anything profound. Or silly. He doesn't write anything. Instead, I get my very own original piece of art. It looks more of a pissed Mass-O than a missed Picasso. But, Lamma-Gung has a photo and it's now legendary. I think it would scare the shit out of Lon Chaney who once warned that there is "nothing more scary than a clown after midnight". Welcome to the story Mass. Glad to have your interactive input. Avid fans who want more delightfully deranged art should go to
info@markgoss.com and enjoy thrills, chills and beer-spills in remembrance of this moment that's already been downshifted from my short term memory to medium term recall and an eventual long term forgettery. That's It. Day one is pretty much done.
Believe It Or Not. I get a
second bum ticket on the MTR back to Central. Two in one day. On consecutive rides for me. The security counter guy lets me out a side gate without explaining what's wrong with this ticket. I mean: Two In One Day! What are the odds on that. All I've got going through my brain is Neil (the Hippie from The Young Ones) groaning "Technofear".
There's an unexpected
EN backjump to yesterday when I realise my chat with Justin doesn't start until this morning 3/11/2013. Day Two Of Clockenflap. Oh, well. I'm sure I'm not the only manglee making his way to the Hub for more of the same, but different please. No trouble with electronic tickets today. I think by writing these notes, I have banished, vexed, hassled and harried these electro-gremlins into up-fucking someome else's day one. Dark Himaya are playing on the Vans Stage. Don't get to see them. Have seen them before and they are great. Ditto for The Bollands. Joyce and Christian did a delightful set at Lamma Fun Day the weekend before. Then, they were a duo. Now they're a quartet, augmented by Gabe (from tDBK) on drums and drummer Ali from DP on bass. What little I heard in passing was excellent. But I'm on a mission to see Juana Molina on the Replay Stage. Here's why.
Efterklang who are on the Replay Stage at 1715 - 1800 tomorrow, have praised Juana and her band as One To Watch. "We're particularly looking forward to Omar Souleyman and Juana Molina". In the
EN they've missed each other's gigs by a day, even though they're taking place simultaneously. So, how can I help. First. Good call by Efterklang. Your repertoires are similar with ethno-centric local charms. Juana is on guitar and vocals. Odin is on keyboards and occ. acc. gtr. Diego is the master drummer. The music is guttural, chanted, quite peculiarly Argentinian world and folk based and utterly charming. One track, Diego is playing some small finger click sort of beat. That's all, Odin has a sleek, sexy, salsa-like synth bass line coiling and whooping it up while he plays the above occ.acc. gtr. There seems to be some Shamanism at work here. I'm lost in music and lost for words. No way to reveal the magic in the music. After the gig, I meet them for a chat.
I tell Juana (who reminds me at times of the late Janis Joplin - looks and voice a bit) that Efterklang recommended you in their programme interview. Would she like to respond. She does.
"Thanks, Efterklang for everything. All the best. Juana Molina". Lamma-Gung has the photo. Martin, her sound engineer is the embodiment of graciousness. He gives me a copy of Wed 21, Juana's latest CD, which the current band play extremely well. Although, they're not on the original recordings. So, I'm spreading the word. Want to learn more? Go to
http://www.crammed.be. Or
http://www.juanamolina.com. I envy you your first listening experience. Martin says the band is en route to Tokyo. "Juana goes there every year for the past ten years". The band is chuffed by Efterklang's kind words. I say I'll pass on/am passing on/have passed on her message. See if they'll respond in kind. Big thanks to Mike "Wolfpac" Ip from Mugazine music magazine for taking the photos of me and Gerry in front of the stage as JM perform. A special pleasure to chat with Odin and Diego after the gig. I promise them one of my mixes which will be/is/was delivered by Efterklang. Martin, hope you didn't hurt yourself too badly when you fell over.
The chronological route is taking too long.We're now in Day Three. Sunday. Just past tea time. Basically Efterklang turned up on the Replayer Stage on time and delivered their own stunning mix of new sounds and sonic explorations. Normally, a core trio of Caspar on vox. Rasmus on bass. Mads on electronics. And a good beard growing in there, Mads. I'm a big fan of bushy beards. Had mine 18 years. I spent an hour a week shaving. That's 52 hours each year I could be in bed with my lovely wife Mari. Or doing pretty much of anything not requiring a razor. And if it's good enough for most of ZZ Top... Sorry, where was I? On from male grooming tips. Right, core essence. Done. The other members of this sextet incarnation of Efterklang are Martyn on guitars and keyboards. Katinka on breathy Sigur Ros dream-swoon vocals and keyboards. I think her voice evokes a sweet symbiosis of Bjork and Sandy Denny, the late, great Queen of English folk-rock in the '60's/70's. Also dueted with Led Zeppelin on
"The Battle Of Evermore". And the aforementioned Tatu, Mr. Finland, on drums, pots and pans. The music is Danish blissful. Lonely, haunted soundscapes. The tempo moves from summer drifty crash out to blazing drum and bass high speed percussive frenzy. Perfectly complementing what JM did the day before.
So I meet them. Caspar is a joy to chat with. He reads Juana's words, Takes a photo at my behest. Now they've got the proof that I completed/joined up the triangle. They've got Odin's email. They've also got a copy of Nixmix #14 which they promise to forward to JM. They like what I say is mixed into it. They might even have played some of it at the Efterklang DJ closing Festival party for VIP ticket holders. Be nice if they did, but I'm not expecting them to waste their DJ gig on my vintage wares. Further into the
EN, the answers to all these posers are known. Just not by me. This whole little lovefest music triangle is exactly what I love about Clockenflap. Even in my little old 2-D 'scape of paper and pen, things are getting done. I believe this is called "Networking". That's what someone told me. Nice to try it. Was it that Greatest Living Englishman Lord Melchett of Fry who said to try anything once.
"Except incest and Morris Dancing". So, that doesn't rule out bestiality?
Right, It's Yesterday Once More. Just think that if Karen Carpenter had eaten the last half of Mama Cass Elliott's sandwich, they might both be still alive. Actually Mama Cass died of an obesity heart attack and not from a bulimic bender of eat and purge, so that just remains a grim warning not to tell Dead Rock Star jokes. Coming Back From The Dead however is something The Regurgitators have pulled off splendidly. They're on the Harbourflap Stage, partying like it's 2003 all over again. That's when they made a ferociously well-received debut at Rock-It Festival #1 in Victoria Park. They were such crowd-pleasers they were promptly invited back in 2004. Then, they lived in a glass house to record an LP. Quan moved to HK around the start of the New Millennium. Got married here. Still lives here. Brought the reformed 'Gurge to HK to record their latest LP. Now, they're playing Clockenflap. First international band to cross over from Rock-It top Clockenflap. Locally, the Uptown Rockers have done the same.
Quan also helped to do the soundtrack for the legendary Lamma Zombie Movie, "Ïsle Be Damned". What do you mean, you haven't seen it. Stop reading this rave-a-logue and go on YouTube and find it. Now. It's only 15 minutes of your life. Anyway, the boys turn in a stunning crowd pleasing greatest hits. All the funk/metal/synthpop big choons just for you. Some fine rapping by Quan. Good jokes by Ben on bass and vocals. Held tightly in check by the powerhouse percussive skills of Pete. (You're still here? Go and watch the movie. Right The Fuck Now!). Have a brief chat backstage with Quan who remembers me as the...well, let's not spoil that pleasure for the I.B.D. virgins and neophytes. He signs a set list for Patrick who collects them. As do I, but he can have this one. Quan says he can't wait for Chic with Nile Rodgers. "David Bowie's
"China Girl" and
"Let's Dance".
There's another major
EN shift now as I jump ahead to the near end of Day Three. 2ManyDj's are resplendent in their suits on the Replay Stage. Their set is an electro-bubbly stew of mashed up dance hits, smash hits and humongous amounts of tweaking knobs and sliders. There's Doppler shifts in tone and tempo. Buzzing bouncy bass lines. Occasional hints of tunes I know. But the DJ Box of Magic Tricks is not inexhaustible. About 4o minutes into their high-energy technoid set, I'm getting a feeling of boredom. Heard it already. Time to shuffle off as the Festival closes. Other people are on the same track. To my surprise and delight. Cui Jian is still going strong. As befits the rehabilitated Godfather of Modern Rock in China. His band sounds awesome. The song they're playing is immense, Haunting keyboard melodies speaking to me of three thousand years of brutality, bloodshed, persecution, cannibalism and general bad behaviour by The Boys In Charge. It might not have been about any of that. I haven't got a clue. But to me, it sounds like it could have been the most important song/tune to be played at Clockenflap 2013. I hope so. After all, there was a reason he was chosen to Close The Festival on the Harbourflap Stage. I wish I'd seen more.
Wish Granted! Welcome Now to a peripatetic pirouette through the spaceblob/mashtime of the Festival. Floss is very terse, but effusive with his praise. "Bollands. Great!". Mike, from Bella Elektra thanks me for enjoying their show last year and says FourTet was worth the standing about. More or less. He's enjoying Juana (where we are now) and is going to get his boogie on with Chic.
But first, time to check out the stream of songs coming from Ellen Loo and the Ripple Band. There's Waiting Soul on bass. Mike Orange on guitar. Jason Choi on keyboard(s). Stephane on drums. Ellen on guitar and vocals. And, all important. Ming, the Roadie. Nice you mentioned him. Shows the care/respect in the band. Also shown in their Canto-sung, good sounding melodic, alternative(ish) rock. Aided by bags of riffs from the Cho Chuk Mo duo, appearing with Ellen. The band are tight, but have room to swing or jam or solo for a spell. A
Gestalt Result. Thanks for Ellen, who used to live a spell on Lamma, for The Phrase Of The Day, nay Festival. You ready? A big shout out to yourselves of
"liao bu chi". According to Ellen, that mean's
"I'm fucking AMAZING!". And we can be heroes, just for one day (or three).
This next dude has been a hero for longer than that. Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up big time for Chic (featuring Nile Rodgers). His musical foil, Bernard Edwards, can't be here. Alas, he is decomposing. Nile had a hard, by some standards, life. His mother was under 14 when she had him. Both parents were heroin addicts. That was normal in his neighbourhood/slum. Everyone was like that. Got into music. Wrote their biggest early single
"Le Freak" after being refused entry to Studio 54 by its megalomaniac cokehead top dog, Steve Rubell. Even though he knew who they were and their music was flying. They wandered in a very pissed off sort of way to their studio and started jamming around a chorus of "Fuck Off" or "Fuck You". Realised it was a hit. Changed the title. Changed the face of disco. Co-wrote
"We Are Family",
"Material Girl", and
"Let's Dance". More recently, he's collaborated with Swedish EDM maestro on the hit
"Wake Me Up". Number One in 68 countries. Plus stuff with sometime Queen vocalist Adam Lambert on his debut release
"True". And he's helped lift some nearly anonymous French electro duo into the charts with their new release. I think they're called Daft Punk. They are going to be
HUGE! Remember, you read it here not last. Oh, yeah, he's also fighting "extremely aggressive" pancreatic cancer.
Welsh Tom tells me later that he and some other fans met Nile outside the W Hotel. He posed for every photo and chatted to everyone who wanted to talk to him. Amiable Pro Behaviour. Chic played 90 minutes. I watched three hit songs. The band is honed to perfection after a summer of big Festivals. But in an odd way the daylight disco doesn't gel. Where are the Studio 54 dark dripping nooks full of copulating couples, crazed on cocaine, champagne and quaaludes? There's no dancefloor rutting/strutting. No mashed monologues of mindbending inanity. No horses.... But Chic produced a show to rival De La Soul last year.
Right. time to enjoy the splendid talents of some of the French Bands. Spread throughout the
EN. Right after Chic are Bonaparte who are "brusque plus a burlesque dancer. More urban/sexy tunes in a Jim Rose Sideshow Circus sort of way. Or Circus Archaos. The sentence after this has
precis details from the programme with full credit to Clockenflap.. OK, the sentence after this. Swiss musician Tobias Jundt and his small version of his touring big band of 20-ish members push "hedonistic revelry through a lo-fi punk aesthetic...electro and pop...rock and hip-hop...excessive live performances...often surreal". And plenty of hoots and hollers from the up front happy hominids.
French Cowboy and The One is Federico Pellegrini, late of the now-defunct Late Rabbits. He's a grizzled meld of Serge Gainsborough and Harry Dean Stanton, singing tales that evoke sun-seared desert terrains. Tumbleweeds bobbing and bouncing like the juicy beats I'm hearing. That's due to The One who is bare-chested and channelling the power precision of bonkers Butthole Surfers percussive action. Desert-delic.
And La Femme, the most telegenic and quirky of the three. There are
Une femme et Cinq hommes. They weave a sultry sugary sheen into their glassy hooks and melodies. Subverted by deliciously twisted and evil
Doppler shifts in tones and crazed cartoon psyche-beats and bleeps. At times they're heavier than the similar cut ups being performed by 2ManyDJs further in the now. And sweet sexy vocals intruding now and then in a Tao and Zen sort of rhyming way. Yeah, Shagadelic Baby! Oh, Fuck Off Austin. I don't watch your movies. Don't crash my review.
Finally, Modeselektor close Day Two with a minimal to maximus beautifully crafted set of Intelligent Dance Music. Plus a Kraftwerkian meets Liquid Len type of cyber light show and visuals. There's machine beat perfection and overlays and intermingles of bleeps, phasing, electro-tweaking. Plus more abstract noise in places. They got a standing "O". Mind you, they were up against the miracle performance. Franz Ferdinand on the Harbourflap stage. Completely recovered from his fatal shooting on 28/6/1914 which started WW1 and, well the bloodshed hasn't ceased to bubble and flow and gout and gush. What? Wrong Franz Ferdinand? They're just some cocky kids? And I missed them? Here's the programme notes. "...timeless songwriting flair, lyrical detail, hard-hitting hooks" covering artfunkpoppunk. Apparently, they were also good enough to get 90 minutes. Have the fans dancing Chic to geekcheek.
It's mid afternoon Day Three and Tegan and Sarah and their trusty backing band are wowing the crowd at Harbourflap Stage. They're Canadian and are apparently considering moving to HK. At least in the first moment of confession of this thought. Ripples of dreamy appreciation expand through the crowd at the joy of possibly hearing more. A few people have raved about them and I guess they're in the crowd. They weave a sonic tapestry meshing the country folk rock of say, Gordon Lightfoot with helpings of Kate and Anna Magarrigle (who once played a breathtaking show in HK City Hall as part of an early Annual Arts Festival. And they mix in elements of blissful synth and keyboards which could emanate from Kate Bush or Peter Gabriel's Real World recordings as produced by David Guetta (still, 2013's #1 DJ Of The Year) They mixed and matched their set beautifully and were guileless and warm in their interjectory interactions with the audience. Bravo!
Meanwhile, a hypnotic pulsing performance is coming at ya from the Replay Stage. We've had the Afro-Cuban dance grooves and percussive fun from Banda Orbita at the onset of this
EN time (Day One for everyone else) They're one of HK's best kept secrets who have been honing their craft sporadically since 2010 or so. Barney Bruce does his bit on percussion. Lamma talent cooking away. I missed them. But I caught some of Fatoumata Diawara and her mixed band French/Malian musicians. Muscular rhythms. Sinous, snaking guitar playing. Ferocious drums. Elements of jazz, funk and folk from her ancestral Wasserlou tradition. Blended with an Oyster Band sense of rock over folk power of performance. Not quite as imperial as Youssou N'Dor or as sweetly jolly as The Bhundu Boys, but all three shows are coeval. Thanks, and it's my pleasure to introduce the band. Fata on guitar and vocals. Jean-Baptiste Gbaaoe on drums and vocals. Jean Alain Hohy on bass and vocal. And Gregory
("My friend. Life Is Beautiful"). Emonet on guitars. The long-dormant Spirit Of Hong Kong Folk Festivals
(passim) is being re-woken. And there looked like there were some Happy Feet enjoying the grooves.
Time for Metric on the Harbourflap Stage. They're another strong Canadian band. In fact the programme lauds them as Indie-rock Royalty. A beguiling mix of great Blondie and vintage Ultravox. Rock chords are chiming out everywhichway. The glacial-sort-of-gloomy-but-not-really keyboards are elegiac in their goth beauty. The singer is Emily Haines and I'm indebted for that factoid to Francesco Ayala who's lying on the ground next to me. She asks what I'm writing. Then coos in excitement as she realises that I'm that guy from... you know and you do that thing you do... somewhere. I think she's trying to say that she's seen my bookshelf on Lamma when she was last there. Anyway, Francesca. It's your turn in this paragraph. "Metric. This is my favourite band in the world". She's clearly chuffed to be breathing the same air as Metric. But remember Ellen and
"liao bu chi". We are all as one on this issue. Thanks for your input, Francesca. See you on Lamma somewhen.
There were joys a plenty to be savoured which I missed. Saw nothing on The Vans Off The Wall Stage. Didn't get near it. Karl recommended the German bratwurst sausage from The Flying Brats(?). Divine, my photographer friend, turned up in the middle of Steve Bruce's excellent DJ slot and handed out some slices. Yum Yum. Would have liked to see/hear the Hitchcock film "Blackmail" with a live piano score by Stephen Horne. Missed, Benga, The XXX Bass Showcase, Ocean Lam, Devlar and Casey Anderson and pretty much everything in The Bearded Lady Sideshow. But I'm glad to have got in the tent briefly to catch up with Alok, who got me in the VIP drink tent to speak to some other stars. Thank you Alok. And I
really tried to make your gig. Hopefully next year. When I'm cloned... Well, that's all folks. I'm almost written out. I've got to wait for some more short term memories to collide/meld with the medium term recollections and fill in some more blanks. Right now, I'm knackered. It's time to go home. See my wife and enjoy a far far better rest (that) I go to... ntb