REVIEW: Wireless Festival
- Posted on July 7, 2008 12:22 PM
- 0 comments
O2 Wireless Festival
London, Sunday 6 July
Review by Paul Beevers
The final day of the O2 Wireless Festival in London, and even without a large pool of household names the event has sold out. It takes more than the credit crunch and the prospect of showers to keep 30,000 hardy souls away from Hyde Park.
Magic Christian kick off proceedings on the main stage. They’re essentially a new wave supergroup, and their line up includes Cyril Jordan (formerly with The Flamin’ Groovies) and most famously Blondie’s Clem Burke on drums. It’s an unenviable task, opening a huge festival at 2.00pm with storm clouds gathering, and their garage racket gets a little lost in the wind. That doesn’t concern several hundred hardcore fans though, and the closing ‘Shake Some Action’ provides a breezy blast of 70’s power pop.
Cutting across to the second stage we find Superimposter making only their third live appearance. One of the joys of festivals is discovering a new band that really illuminates your day. The handsome Superimposter are a case in point, and within three songs they appear to have a brand new, adoring audience. Whilst they’re hardly breaking new ground (spirited radio-friendly tunes with hints of Coldplay, Embrace and REM) they are already a stellar live act. Pianist and lead singer Humphrey Miles provides exquisite restrained vocals, and the whole band perform with exceptional clarify and beauty. The songs meanwhile are the stuff dreams (or at least big hits and lighters-aloft arena shows) are made of. ‘Tall Stories’ and debut single ‘Save Me’ are sweetly affecting and immensely uplifting in equal measure.
The sun re-appears mid-afternoon, timed to perfection for Eddie Grant. He’s sixty years old now, and yet seems to have been perfectly preserved circa1982. On the surface his inclusion seems at odds with an otherwise rock-dominated main stage. However, as previous festivals have shown dropping an old bloke with a sense of fun and some big hits into the bill can be a smart move. I don’t care too much for his line in cheesy reggae pop, but the hit singles are all present and correct and he proves to be an instant smash, even among festival-goers clearly too young to remember his 80’s heyday.
Back on the second stage piano-playing lead singers prevail again with Mêlée, who look young enough to be Eddie Grant’s grandchildren. They peddle a neat line in guilt-free soft rock, big on melody and major chords with a nod to 70’s AOR. It’s all very slick and uplifting (especially on ‘Imitation’) but a bit of darkness, or at least some shade to balance the light wouldn’t go amiss.
Goo Goo Dolls are next up on the main stage, and nearly twenty years into their career they look a little rough around the edges. Their 90’s American rock now sounds dated and one dimensional too, although they’re not helped by a freshening wind blowing their sound all over the place. Their biggest U.K hit and Virgin Radio staple ‘Iris’ goes down an absolute storm, but when they take a stab at new wave on ‘January Friend’ they sound and look absurd.
After which it’s a relief to return to the second stage for Delays. Five years and three albums into their career, and it’s hard to see what more this Southampton quartet have to do to crack the big league. They’re a breathtaking live act, to the point where they now sound as good (if not better) on stage than they do on record. Their all-too-brief set still allows them to showcase a stack of killer tunes under-pinned by their glorious indie-electro rush. ‘Panic Attacks’ is possibly their finest moment this afternoon. The fact that it didn’t even make the cut for latest album ‘Everything’s The Rush’ speaks volumes for quality control in the Delays camp.
Australia has given the world some fantastic, timeless bands over the last thirty years. I’m sorry to say Powderfinger aren’t one of them. Huge in their native country they not surprisingly draw a big Australian contingent to the main stage. ‘My Happiness’ gets a rapturous response, and ‘Nobody Sees’ is a tender four minutes about life and stuff, but that doesn’t distract from the overall sense of a very earnest band playing overblown, uninspiring meat-and-potatoes rock.
After which it’s nice to catch a quick burst of Donavon Frankenreiter who has the benefit of opening the undercover second stage just as the heavens open, securing himself a packed crowd. Here is a man evidently in thrall to The Eagles, The Allman Brothers et al, as evidenced by his easy-on-the-ear blues-tinged soft rock and a whole lot of facial hair. Nothing remarkable about that, but he quickly endears himself to the early evening crowd, not least during the closing sing-along ‘It Don’t Matter’ when he literally joins the audience for a walkabout.
Next up are Bowling For Soup. There’s nothing big or clever about their American pop-punk blast, and it’s all very redolent of Blink 182, New Found Glory and their ilk but that would be missing the point. With their cheeky charm, puerile self-deprecating humour and punchy three-minute tunes they’re a top drawer festival act. ‘Punk Rock 101’ and ‘High School Never Ends’ are particularly winsome with an audience old enough to know better. Whether these tunes will sound as appealing after repeat I-Pod plays is debatable, but that doesn’t stop Bowling For Soup from being great entertainers, comedians and all-round buffoons.
The Hold Steady headline the second stage to a relatively sparse audience, not that this deters them one bit. They may look like a collective of middle-aged teachers and I.T consultants but they certainly pack a punch with some meaty guitar riffs and half-sung, half-spoken songs. Their sound ends up midway between Bruce Springsteen circa ‘Born To Run’ and AC/DC circa ‘Back In Black’ which is in no way a bad thing, and when they really hit their stride (as on the rousing ‘Stuck Between Stations’) they’re an awesome live prospect.
Back to the main stage where Counting Crows conclude the day. They start slowly with ‘Washington Square’, one of the more reflective moments from new album ‘Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings’. They liven things up with ‘Mrs Jones’ but it’s evident that leader singer Adam Duritz has ‘issues’. He’s always been an emotionally fragile character, articulating hope and despair (often with beautiful results) across five albums and fifteen years. However, a festival show is not the time for self-pitying, incoherent ramblings that stretch songs far beyond their recorded duration. Lots of potential crowd-pleasers from the Counting Crows canon were omitted tonight, and a little less self-indulgence could have made way for at least four extra songs.
The band are as ever exemplary, striking up a crystal clear sound. Their attention to detail is at times breathtaking, and instruments that could have been consigned to the studio (including mandolins and pedal steel guitars) are dutifully wheeled out and played with precision. Meanwhile the stage looks serene for the first time today, bathed in alternating blue, red and green light.
All of which may not have been enough to save the day, but Counting Crows redeem themselves with a life-affirming encore which includes the ‘Hard Candy’ and the closing ‘Holiday In Spain’. They got away with it by saving the best ‘til last, bringing the day and the weekend to a sublime conclusion.
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