Bands make a show of it (From Stroud News and Journal)

Bands make a show of it

Friday, September 9

CORNHILL

FAVOURITES at Stroud's youth music get-together Glos Rocks, Elysium showed musical maturity beyond their years with their own brand of moody, teen-angst rock. Though the early songs were dogged by technical problems the band seemed to relish the opportunity to open the new-look Fringe and pitched in with gusto, punchy opener Surrender getting a suitably enthusiastic response from the dozens of teenagers clustered around the stage. Star was vocalist Jess Murray, who at just 18 years of age seemed to fill the Cornhill with her voice.

Ah, Sweet Fresh Air, who sounded eerily like later era Fleetwood Mac. Only from Nailsworth. This was music you could drive a truck to, full of spangly melodies and laid-back drivin' rhythms. After the hormonal angst of Elysium it was almost as if mum turned the stereo over to listen to music with a proper tune.

Cruise Control, up next, seemed to come out of nowhere but immediately got the crowd moving with hard-edged rock antics and jangling guitar melodies that owed something to The Smiths and a great deal to mid-90s Indie bands.

SuperJuice have climbed to the Premier League of Stroud bands with their anthemic, groove-driven, keyboard-laced rock. They claim to have tightened their sound over the summer and this seemed to be the case, with a professional sound that warranted their headline slot. Highlight of the set was the funktastic What You See Is What You Get. With its sweeping chorus and spectacularly groovy guitar riff, this tune embodies everything that is great about this up-and-coming band.

Saturday, September 10

AMBLING around the Fringe with no particular agenda can lead to finding some interesting surprises.

At the end of new country act Winbush's mellow, flute-infused set at the King Street folk stage came a distinctly nervous but nonetheless intriguing poet by the name of Sandra.

The audience listened raptly to her salutary verse tales about prisons, suicides and the perils of writing folk songs. "You cannot write a folk song until your love is dead," she said - words of warning for the bands that followed?

At the Subscription Rooms, the Burning Bush delivered a haunting, magnetic set.

Frail melodies from Eastern Europe mingled with delicate jazz and a boisterous sense of Judaic musical heritage.

They built the set slowly to the point where large numbers of legs were beginning to jig along as the klezmer numbers kicked in.

At The Golden Fleece, in an appropriately sweaty atmosphere, a fine-voiced Elvis impersonator had a wildly enthusiastic audience occupying every spare inch of the pub and cheering each gyration.

Meanwhile, the Snorting Dogs on the Nelson Street stage growled their way thrillingly through a set of semi-psychobilly blues rock numbers. The Soul Destroyers closed the night at Cornhill in dayglo, poppy style, compelling the audience to dance and be cheerful. A nice way to end the night.

FOLK STAGE

NORMALLY, when you hear the words "this is an old Cajun sea shanty" it's time to head for the exit. But the drizzly Dublin-esque weather provided the perfect setting for some wistful Irish twiddling from ceilidh band Finnegan's Wok on the Folk Stage.

With no drummer, Finnegan's Wok's guitar and violin notes pattered softly down like the autumnal raindrops. Their mournful tales of Celtic woe promoted a great deal of staring into the middle distance from the score or so of slightly damp audience members - who were no doubt wondering when was the last time they rang their old mum. Very nice.

STREET PERFORMANCE

AN impromptu performance by a bunch of teenagers on the high street may sound like an unlikely choice for the highlight of the festival, but hip-hop outfit Buddha Full were nothing short of spectacular.

Sleek, jazz-inspired background riffs were flawlessly delivered and provided a stunning contrast to the stark, confident voices of 17-year-old Raphael Martyn-Shervington and 19-year-old Ry Gerbrands.

I was awe-struck by the passion, professionalism, and sheer talent of these young people, and how they have so far evaded the attention of a record company is a complete mystery to me.

Sunday, September 11

NELSON STREET

NAILSWORTH punk outfit The Form played one of their best gigs to date on the Nelson Street stage.

A passionate, polished performance had everyone from middle-aged moshers to Kappa-clad teenagers headbanging in harmony.

The upbeat Construct were a particular highlight, with strong vocals by lead singer Matt Pollard and some inspired drumming by Andy Lawrence. Nelson Street was a blur of jumping bodies as the crowd went wild for The Mad Cows, up next.

As usual, the audience were as much a part of the entertainment as the band, and were only too happy to join in with a boisterous chorus of Am I Bothered.

The performance was also accompanied by a series of hilarious if rather risque gesures.

CORNHILL

THEY may have seemed a surprising choice for third from top of the bill on the final night of the Festival at the Cornhill, but Bagel Fish Orchestra's infectious blend of klezmer, Macedonian melodies, old English folk songs and eclectic instrumentation was a fine way to see in the sunset.

The Bagels exuded a woozy cheeriness that often slid into brass-driven Eastern European menace. They should write soundtracks to surrealist films - they're the sort of band that haunt your best dreams and make you wake up dancing.

They were followed by SubJustice, whose live set continues to develop and impress. Less harsh than before, they recreated delicate moments on their new album, Cato St, with aplomb.

In the Making, a luxurious and sensuous ballad, was their finest moment, with Ruth Royall's voice swooping like a swallow through the tender acoustic arrangement, the fine lyrics and the crowd.

They can still do fast and furious though, as Puppet, Confused and the glorious, bass-slappingly funky Watch Me proved.

To close, Ska Daddy played one of their best gigs yet, breathing excitement and life into familiar tunes and turning the Cornhill market into one vast house of fun.

They have come of age as probably the best party band in the Stroud district, full of life and frivolity. Testament to this was the hundreds of dancers bouncing on the Cornhill cobbles.

"Freedom for Stroud," cried organiser Roger Sanders, closing his thank you speech at the end. After Ska Daddy's set, it certainly felt like it.