Normally, Flying
Vinyl spend their time manufacturing exclusive 7” singles for their growing
audience of wax enthusiasts. But today, they turn their attention to the performance
side of music, bringing ten of the hottest bands on the indie scene to a smoky
warehouse in Hackney for twelve hours of beer, sweat and confetti.
Birmingham quartet
Juice kick things off. They’re loud
and brash, pumping out tropical riffs, similar to early Peace. Continuing the
dirty, fuzzy theme, Asylums follow, raising
the bar considerably in their 30-minute slot. They’re spunky and snotty, giving
no fucks that it’s not even 3pm yet.
The Orielles are the day’s first must-sees. The
fresh-faced power trio from Halifax/Liverpool make ambient surf-pop music, which
they perform with an innocent charm. Wide smiles onstage are reflected in the
audience, cuts from the group’s recent release Jobin EP achieving the most love.
Up next are Yonaka, who a brief brush with at The
Old Blue Last in January left us hungry for more. Theresa Jarvis fronts the
outfit, a force of nature in high-waisted trousers with vocals to die for. Run stands out with its scratchy introduction
and incendiary choruses, Jarvis’ enormous vocals the catalyst in the inferno. Hip-hop
elements are intertwined with gunshot drum smacks, no more than for rampageous
closer Innocence.
The middle ground
between Sundara Karma and Catfish and the Bottlemen come soon after, in the
form of Reading quartet The Amazons.
Their refined, indie-rock sound stands out as being notably ordinary in
comparison to the rest of today’s acts, but there’s no denying that their huge sound
has a definite appeal; their set sees the first mosh pits of the day, culminating
in an almost stage invasion when time is called.
A break in the
schedule permits a quick peruse around the rest of the venue. Seating it seems
is in short supply, and if the cold doesn’t put you off outside the volume inside
will. Nonetheless, alcohol is reasonably priced and the room provides an
eccentric energy, courtesy of some dazzling neon lights.
Eccentricity remains
the primary theme as The Jar Family grace
the stage. Looking like a bunch of school kids who’ve raided the drama
cupboard, their array of stage props spans from hats with feathers to enormous
drums, and everything in between. The collective’s bizarre folk-meets-cabaret music
bemuses for the most part, but the mostly young audience quickly clock on to
the novelty sensation and the set goes down well.
Brighton band The Magic Gang are blatantly the most
popular act of the day so far. They gather an enormous crowd before they even start,
the occasional wave from guitarist Kris or bassist Angus setting off screams in
abundance. When they finally launch into the charming melodies of Lady, Please the crowd is rowdy and anarchic.
The first of many mosh pits and chant alongs fire up as the band beam at their phenomenal
reception. But things quickly turn sour, as the fragile barrier at the front of
the audience is thrown forward, trapping photographers against the stage. Despite
frontman Jack Kaye alerting security after one song, it takes almost 15 minutes
for anything to be done, by which time the set is seemingly ruined for myself
and others. But despite blatant health and safety issues, the foursome play exceptionally,
and everyone escapes unharmed and satisfied.
Nottingham
three-piece Kagoule lead the charge
towards headliner time. With the barrier issue resolved, duo Lucy Hatter and
Kai Burns front a dark assault on Flying Vinyl, consisting of material from the
trio’s 2015 debut Urth. Lawrence
English’s drums back up the beefy performance, which appeals more to those left
out by The Magic Gang’s happy-go-lucky charm. Grungey anthems Glue and Adjust the Way are firm favourites, but cuts from the trio’s
upcoming sophomore album slip in comfortably. Kagoule stand out as one of the more
credible acts from today’s line up, with a comfortable stage presence
resonating from each member – a far cry from the nervous showmanship of some of
their predecessors.
Black Honey are a Vapour Trail favourite, so it’s
their set we’re most primed and ready for. Also from Brighton, the four piece have
made a name for themselves as being rampant and energetic with a vintage twang,
both on record and off. So it’s no surprise that tonight fits that trend. Spinning Wheel was crafted to be an
opener, its bewitching first verse an open invitation for some sassy
theatricals from frontwoman Izzy B Phillips, before an almighty scream gets us
down to business. Older material like Teenager
and Sleep Forever pack neatly in
next to latest single All My Pride, the
defining factor being a slick swagger that makes this band so outstanding. Corinne is the fan favourite, bringing
new levels of life to the cloudy room, a tour de force from a band with an
undoubtedly bright future ahead of them.
Closing
proceedings are Swim Deep, who take their rightful place at the top
of the bill. As a solo trumpeter heralds their arrival (no idea) it seems the
audience are totally spent post-Black Honey. But the spine-tingling intro to Forever Spaceman is the Mento in a musical
Coke bottle. An eruption of bangs and fizzes wash over Flying Vinyl, continuing
through into Grand Affection and Namaste. A touching tribute to Viola
Beach, who were billed to play at the festival before passing away tragically
in February, leads into hit single She
Changes the Weather. King City
follows, inspiring a new energy within the crowd, before the synthesizer
masterpiece that is To My Brother tells
us it’s almost home time. “We’ve got one more for you”, frontman Austin
Williams announces, “it’s a long one”. Fuieho
Boogie, the crowning jewel from the band’s second LP Mothers, closes the festival with eight minutes of madness, a
cherry on top of the irresistible cake that has been Flying Vinyl Festival.
Chaos, ecstasy, mosh
pits, beer, ten bands, one room and a shit load of up-for-it punters. Cheers
Flying Vinyl for a fantastic festival, we’ll be waiting for the next one!
