Reprocessed, by Matt Patterson

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Truck Seven [Truck Festival, 2004]

The Truck Festival is a small (3,000 people) festival which happens in Steventon, Oxfordshire, and has done for the last seven years. I haven't for a long time (1999 or 2000), but it has a little truck-shaped space in my head -- I've always meant to go -- and it was good to make it back this year, even if it was only for one day.

Truck is run by the fine people at Truck Records. The festival predates the label, and is where the label takes its name from. Goldrush (nee Whispering Bob) founded both the festival, then the band (so they could play at it), and the label came along afterwards. Truck the label is a really great Indie, whose output has rarely been less than very good indeed. Truck the festival has provided an intimate showcase for an eclectic array of local, national, and international acts, drawn from Truck's label roster and far beyond.

Ben (my old housemate), and I arrived on site at about 4pm, and were pleased to note that (a) the site had been radically rejigged, including new (and improved) venues, and better site organisation and access; and that (b) the Rotarians were still doing all the food.

I had a very good day at the festival, the atmosphere was very laid back and friendly, the music was good, and it looked like a good time was had by all. Hell, it looks like they managed to get the tracklisting and contents of the festival CD to agree this time (a first, I think).

I hope I'll be able to make it next year.

Main stage, 4pm: Trademark

I hadn't seen or heard much from [Trademark][] before this show, apart from a snippet at Ben's. They're pretty hard to describe accurately. Two guys standing behind keyboards, with another guy singing (and occasionally standing behind a keyboard too), wearing lab coats may sound a bit like a strange Kraftwerk / Early Depeche Mode hybrid. That's not too far off, actually. You'd to throw a bit of Pet Shop Boys in there, and (most importantly) a big dose of wit and humour. The obviously carefully-considered qualities of their sounds make them sound more early-80s electro-pop than real early-80s electro-pop ever did. This is no bad thing. They've taken all the ingredients and cooked up something new. They've got catchiness in spades, and they've even got an actual stage show.

During Squarewave Anger one of the stands-behind-keyboards emerges to deliver the short spoken bit of the song as a lecture, with the aid of a large square-wave diagram held up by the singer.

During a cover (my sleep-deprived brain has forgotten what it was), which the band left to run on autopilot while they stood in a synchronised line. They waited for the designated time and, in perfect time, stretched out their arms and waited. A coterie of glamourous lab-coated assistants marched on the stage, took a man each, measured and considered, and then replaced the band's white coats with a technicolour array, arranged to contrast with their coloured ties. They then returned to their stations to continue the set. The crowd approved, as did I. The set also featured a duet with Piney Gir, which, vocally, worked better in the studio (it's on the Truck Seven CD, which will be listed on the [Truck Records] site someday) than on stage, but the interplay between the two of them more than made up for this.

They have an album, which I have purchased and listened to and reccommend highly.

Trailer Park stage, 5.00pm: The $hit

Ah, such hijinks. The $hit hail from the deepest, darkest, West Midlands, my own childhood turf. They didn't say exactly where they were from, but the accent was familiar, and I'd be willing to bet money they're familiar with the insides of JB's (or its equivalent, should the unthinkable but inevitable have happened).

Lets make no bones about this, The $hit aren't very good. They play fairly dull crude-drum-machine backed Atari Teenage Riot-esque stuff, with guitars.

What they do have, and in spades, is a stage show so absurd that you'll be transfixed. Apart from the whole we're-all-called-Ken thing, there's the singer/minidisc operator's multiple-US/UK-flag-sarong, red-and-green 3D specs, and really bad bling jewellry (giant silver dollar sign, anyone?). And, if that wasn't enough, theres the fact that one of the other Kens (there are three in all) wears a donkey mask, while the other wears a Scream mask. Then, oh my, there's the pi\xC3\xA9ce de resistance. The $hit have cheerleaders, naturally enough called the $hitettes.

Say no more.

Main stage, 6.45pm: MC Lars

Take one west-coast liberal-arts educated English Lit. major with a penchant for Shakespeare and rapping, send him to Oxford for a few months, introduce him to Truck Records, and hey presto: MC Lars. It may sound absurd, but it's great! From the evils of the cynical major label create/destroy policy (Signing Emo), to Edgar Allen Poe (Mr. Raven) and even a meditation on the corrupting effects of power seen through the lens of Shakespeare's Macbeth, MC Lars has it covered.

He's got wit, breaks, a fine band (including DJ, who's actually called DJ), energy, rhymes, and stage presence. So what if his trousers kept threatening to fall down. He put on a hell of a show, the crowd loved him, I loved him. He must be the antithesis of gun-waving name-calling, hip hop, and apparently he's got some heavyweight management and agent support behind him back home in the States. Let's hope all that converts into something. That would be an incontrevertibly good thing.

Trailer Park stage, 6.45pm: Piney Gir

Piney Gir -- one woman with drum machine and keyboard, usually -- has already won many fans and plaudits, not least airplay from Mark Radcliffe. As Truck are fond of both MC Lars and Piney, when they realised there was a clash they made the Trailer Park stage run late so they could see both of them, which meant I could too. Very thoughtful. She performed with A Scholar and a Physician, namely the singing third of Trademark and someone else (no idea who, sorry). It was good, too. Her material is musically varied, lyrically strong, and well delivered. She made her very-electronic approach work well, her band sporting keyboards, drum machines and what looked like some kind of bizarre sci-fi MIDI guitar.

Greetings, Salutations, Goodbye, which has been getting quite a bit of airplay (including the aforementioned Radcliffe on his Radio 2 show), went down very well, and a duet with Trademark's Oliver Horton worked much better than the earlier one in Trademark's show. Also, an honourable mention for her megaphone-wielding annihilation of The Who's My Generation (great).

Lounge tent, 7.45pm: Black Nielson

Black Nielson are a Truck act who've been around for a good while, and about who everyone's said good things, but also someone who I've kept managing to miss. Well, I actually managed to catch them this time round. They played the absolutely tiny Lounge Tent, which had a monumental stage which was at least 3 inches off the ground. While I couldn't actually see much of the band themselves, they made a good noise.

You could draw parallels with west-coast psychedelic rock, and even country, but those influences are layered with post-rock melodic noise, and thrown into relief by the vocalist's falsetto.

It's hard to know what to say beyond this, the band (almost by its nature) sailing along without any startling moments to record. On occasion during the set their meandering threw up something sublime. Again, not a startling change, more a delicate shift.

Main stage, 9.30pm: Goldrush

I hadn't seen Goldrush live since they were called Whispering Bob and I was last at Truck. Ben and I had slipped off site to get some dinner, and arrived back a little late. Unfortunately the main stage regained its lost time from somewhere (it had been running slow) and Goldrush were playing a very short set. We caught fragments of a couple of songs on the wind, on our way back. By the time we got back to the stage, they only had two songs left to play.

I was struck by how much more assured they were than the four or five years ago when I last saw them. They finished with Let You Down (on the album Don't Bring Me Down, and the EP Extended Play), and Counting Song, my favourite track on Extended Play. It was an excellent performance (at least, the bit I saw was), marred only by a lone, incoherent, stage invader. Their new EP, Ozona, was out yesterday (Monday 26 July), and it was on sale at the festival. The product of their experiences while touring the US, it promises much.

Main stage, 10.30pm: Eighties Matchbox B-line Disaster

I knew nothing of Saturday's headliners, the lengthily named Eighties Matchbox B-line Disaster, save that a friend's son liked them. Not as good a recommendation as I hoped, it would seem. Billed as 'stalwarts of the Brighton horror-rock scene', I was left rather bemused. I could see no connection with 'horror', excepting certain band members likeness to Hammer-horror mad scientists.

There was a lot of 80s poodle-rock posturing from the poodle-haired frontman, but the music suggested nothing more than Status Quo turned up to the proverbial eleven. To their credit, for most of their first few songs the stage lights simply weren't working, and they didn't miss a beat, even when the lights died in middle of their first song: Top marks for professionalism. I got bored after 20 minutes and left.

Trailer Park

After the Trailer Park stage stopped having bands on, it got converted into a dance tent, with visuals by [Memetix][] (one half of the Memetix duo is James, Ben's brother, the man largely responsible for Truck Records' album artwork over the years.). The VJing was good: a mix of trad 3D and video loops, plus more abstract patterns and type in motion.

Cristian Vogel

Half of Super_Collider (along with the utter genius Jamie Lidell), Vogel played the kind of abstract techno and house you'd expect. I'm generally left a little cold by that kind of stuff in large doses, and this wasn't really any different. Having said that, he did play the odd blinder.

Fruit & Veg

Much more fun, this lot. A much more eclectic selection, with a much less serious vibe. Included a mash up featuring 500 miles by the Proclaimers. A good way to end the night.

Not forgetting:

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