June

2014

Vol.1

AT ODDZVOL. 1 JUNE 2014ISSUE 1

June

2014

Vol.1

AT ODDZVOL. 1 JUNE 2014ISSUE 1

June

2014

Vol.1

AT ODDZVOL. 1 JUNE 2014ISSUE 1

June

2014

Vol.1

AT ODDZVOL. 1 JUNE 2014ISSUE 1

June

2014

Vol.1

AT ODDZVOL. 1 JUNE 2014ISSUE 1

June 2014

Vol.1

AT O

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ZVO

L. 1

JUN

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2014

ISSUE

1

June 2014

Vol. 1

AT O

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JUN

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2014

ISSUE

1

June 2014

Vol. 1

AT O

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L. 1

JUN

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2014

ISSUE

1

June 2014

Vol. 1

AT O

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L. 1

JUN

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2014

ISSUE

1

June 2014

Vol. 1

AT O

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LIVE

ATLEEDS:EUROPE’SL A R G E S TINDIE MUSIC CONCERT

WHAT’SI N S I D E

FEATURES

HOW INDIE MUSIC HAS CHANGEDp.

p. R ISE OF THE D IG ITAL AGE

p. L IVE AT LEEDSMUSIC FEST

LIVE AT LEEDSEUROPE’S LARGEST INDIE MUSIC FESTIVAL

MAYHEM&LIVE AT

LEEDS

“

ALWAYSGO TOGETHER

LIKE PEASIN A POD “

For AlunaGeorge it’s a snapshot of a band on the verge of domination. Dressed in glittery hotpants, Aluna adds some glamour to the day as she works effortlessly through ‘Attracting Flies’ and ‘You Know You Like It’. Twisting perfectly under the spotlight each rich vocal shines over the laid back beats. However, as the crowd waits for the bait, the band makes their short set an uphill struggle. Unheard songs are the priority and although each track comes with its distinct AlunaGeorge sound the crowd don’t have a chance to erupt until ‘White Noise’ emerges.

As night falls music fans intermingle with hen parties and lads’ nights out to create a rather sinister tone in the city centre. A trip to The Cockpit is short lived as most of the audience are unaware Unknown Mortal Orchestra are creating their ‘60s washouts on stage. Among the booze and the tiredness, the performances are lost in the background. We arrived on the Friday and pitched our tent. Now I’ve been to Leeds festival for the past eight years, so I should know my way around. But as we got into the campsite we thought to ourselves: “The guest camping area has been moved around this year. And how come there is so much litter and discarded dirty underwear everywhere?” It was only after we’d pitched our tents that we realised we’d camped in

completely the wrong bit. Which leads me to wonder – how do you normal campers deal with that level of mess? Bearing in mind this was only Friday afternoon. Honestly, it was like camping in a skip! Scruffy gets. Yes I’m in my early thirties now and a bit more precious about things like not camping on a mound of disused beer cans, bean tins and other peoples vomit. But minor rant over. I still love Leeds Festival. For the line-ups it’s always one of the best going!

So the first band we saw were Fall Out Boy. They’re not my kind of thing to be honest. It’s all a little bit wet (and for once I’m not talking about the weather). But they seemed to be enjoying themselves and the crowd were too. We left their set about ten minutes in to go and see a bit of Pure Love, led by former Gallows frontman Frank Carter.

“ L I V E A T L E E D S

H A S T A K E N O N A

L I F E O F I T S O W N .”

THE MUSIC

THE ENERGY

A F E S T I V A L W I T H O U T W A L L S A L L O W I N G T H E P U B L I C T O R E L A X I N T H E C I T Y ’ S

M A I N E A T E R I E S A N D T H E N H E A D B A C K I N T O T H E M U S I C A T

W I L L . A U N I Q U E E V E N T T H A T B E L O N G S O N

T H E C A L E N D A R O F EVERY TRUE INDIE

MUSIC FAN.

Plan all you want, create your spreadsheets and pace yourself, but as soon as you hit the city something makes you dash from venue to venue like a headless chicken catching snapshots of music.

Only in Leeds would you see The Pigeon Detectives play at two in the afternoon sandwiched between AlunaGeorge and The Walkmen. Even trying to decipher the schedule is a headache. Among the queues and beer gardens we hop into Jacob Banks at the cosy Wardrobe, who, aside from promising us a ‘Rainy Day’, manages to restore our Zen, at least temporarily.

Little Comets, a band overshadowed by the likes of Bombay Bicycle Club, play to an opportunistic crowd at the Academy who remain transfixed as long as they’re piping through their happy-go-lucky chiming pop. As the band tries to reclaim the crowd during a low-key ballad chaos ensues, and it’s only 4pm.

A nip over to the Met and Leeds’ own Witch Hunt muster up their best Kills impression with mixed vocals and electro drum loops. Louisa’s soaring vocals become the epicentre of each song with little stringing it together. Each moody hair toss comes with an unimaginative guitar throng and little else. Instead we’re tempted away for a split second to enjoy King Krule in the beautiful Holy Trinity Church.

But it’s not long before Splashh’s fresh retro sounds encompass The Refectory. Bound in baggy t-shirts and matching long locks, each lyric is incomprehensible as the washed out

guitars rumble around the half-full arena. The songs chug along slowly word. The songs chug along slowly working their way into your skin and suddenly Splashh become the unassuming highlight of the day.

I spend most of Ghostpoet’s set in the Dance Stage concentrating on not knocking into anyone so I don’t end up with a massive black splurge on my left arm. But he’s dead good. Lines is one of those songs that goes around my head all the time and his rendition is top notch. I note the absence of his usual headwear - the pork pie hat is gone. Maybe this is the look for the second album?

We head over to see Drenge in the Festival Republic stage upon the advice of my friend and they turn out to be the new band discovery of the weekend for me. Two brothers playing it hard and fast - what’s not to like? I’m told they’re famous for being namechecked in an MPs resignation letter, but we like them because they’re ace and they took talented Notts teenagers Kagoule on tour with them recently. Will look out for them again. Then it’s over to see Saint Raymond on the BBC Introducing stage. It’s a set of pure joy. Next we

WA S T

E

D

TI

ME

,

WELL

S

PE

NT

.

take a quick trip back to the tent to dry off and then we hear

the rumble of the Deftones starting. Thankfully at this point my

friend starts screaming at me to hurry up as I’m packing a bag

of contraband cider and Jager. Oh no, we do not want to miss

the Deftones. So their bass player Chi Cheng is no more (and if

you didn’t know this already you would do during the set as the

crowd constantly chant his name) but the show still goes on just as

he would have wanted. Their set is blistering.

They barely stop for breath. They’re in their forties now, but they rock

out like eighteen year olds without a care in the world. They’re utterly

brilliant.We head off after briefly to buy some food and we pass Kate Nash

in the Festival Republic stage. I’m not exactly a fan, but her sugar-sweet

vocals do make a nice contrast. We fill our stomachs and then head straight

back to the main stage.

I think I’d forgotten how good System of a Down are! And how many classic songs

they have released. Serj Tankain turned 47 a few days before the festival began and I only

hope I’m in that good shape when I reach his age. Their renditions of Toxicity and Chop Suey

are highlights, not only of the festival, but probably of the last few years of my life.

Plan all you want, create your spreadsheets and pace yourself, but as soon as you hit the city something makes you dash from venue to venue like a headless chicken catching snapshots of music.

Only in Leeds would you see The Pigeon Detectives play at two in the afternoon sandwiched between AlunaGeorge and The Walkmen. Even trying to decipher the schedule is a headache. Among the queues and beer gardens we hop into Jacob Banks at the cosy Wardrobe, who, aside from promising us a ‘Rainy Day’, manages to restore our Zen, at least temporarily.

Little Comets, a band overshadowed by the likes of Bombay Bicycle Club, play to an opportunistic crowd at the Academy who remain transfixed as long as they’re piping through their happy-go-lucky chiming pop. As the band tries to reclaim the crowd during a low-key ballad chaos ensues, and it’s only 4pm.

A nip over to the Met and Leeds’ own Witch Hunt muster up

their best Kills impression with mixed vocals and electro drum loops. Louisa’s soaring vocals become the epicentre of each song with little stringing it together. Each moody hair toss comes with an unimaginative guitar throng and little else. Instead we’re tempted away for a split second to enjoy King Krule in the beautiful Holy Trinity Church.

But it’s not long before Splashh’s fresh retro sounds encompass The Refectory. Bound in baggy t-shirts and

A F E S T I V A L W I T H O U T W A L L S A L L O W I N G T H E P U B L I C T O R E L A X I N T H E C I T Y ’ S

M A I N E A T E R I E S A N D T H E N H E A D B A C K I N T O T H E M U S I C A T

W I L L . A U N I Q U E E V E N T T H A T B E L O N G S O N

T H E C A L E N D A R O F EVERY TRUE INDIE

MUSIC FAN.

WA S T E

D

T

IM

E,

W

ELL

SP

EN

T.

We take a quick trip back to the tent to dry off and then we

hear the rumble of the Deftones starting. Thankfully at this

point my friend starts screaming at me to hurry up as I’m

packing a bag of contraband cider and Jager. Oh no, we do

not want to miss the Deftones. So their bass player Chi Cheng is

no more (and if you didn’t know this already you would do during

the set as the crowd constantly chant his name) but the show still

goes on just as he would have wanted. Their set is blistering. They

barely stop for breath. They’re in their forties now, but they rock out like

eighteen year olds without a care in the world. They’re utterly brilliant.

We head off after briefly to buy some food and we pass Kate Nash in the

Festival Republic stage. I’m not exactly a fan, but her sugar-sweet vocals do make

a nice contrast. We fill our stomachs and then head straight back to the main stage.

I think I’d forgotten how good System of a Down are! And how many classic songs they have

released. Serj Tankain turned 47 a few days before the festival began and I only hope I’m in that

good shape when I reach his age. Their renditions of Toxicity and Chop Suey are highlights, not only of

From one Notts talent to another, Jake Bugg draws a capacity crowd on the NME/ Radio 1 stage. Now I’ve seen Jake play

a lot over the last twelve months or so. But he does seem to get better every time. Apparently he made friends

with Johnny Marr at this festival, adding him to Noel Gallagher and The Stone Roses as gig buddies and

potential future collaborators. If you thought Jake has got big already then just wait.

As you might expect, Eminem draws one of the biggest crowds of the weekend (his only

rival really is Green Day). He’s a great performer too and actually looks happy during

this set. At one point tells the crowd that usually his gigs feel like work, but this

one doesn’t. The only disappointment is that that he mimes a lot of the songs.

But when he brings Dido out for Stan, he steps up and happily does it all

live. Good stuff.

To cap the night off we head over to see the godlike Mike Patton in

his Tomahawk guise. It’s a bit less cheeky than the Faith No More

set I saw him headline on this same stage a few years back. But

it’s blistering and awesome. Rock chicks swoon and I’m inclined

to agree with them. I’m not gay, but I might be for Mike Patton.

If he asked nicely. They’re all good performers.

Plan all you

want, create your spreadsheets

and pace yourself, but as soon as you hit the

city something makes you dash from venue to venue like a headess

chicken catching snapshots of music.

Only in Leeds would you see The Pigeon Detectives play at two in the afternoon sandwiched between Alu-naGeorge and The Walkmen. Even trying to decipher the schedule is a headache. Among the queues and beer gardens we hop into Jacob Banks at the cosy Wardrobe, who, aside from promising us a ‘Rainy Day’, manages to restore our Zen, at least temporarily.

Little Comets, a band overshadowed by the likes of Bombay Bicycle Club, play to an opportunistic crowd at the Academy who remain trans-fixed as long as they’re p ip ing

through their hap-

py-go- lucky chiming pop. As the

band tries to reclaim the crowd during a low-key ballad

chaos ensues, and it’s only 4pm.

A nip over to the Met and Leeds’ own Witch Hunt muster up their best Kills impres-

sion with mixed vocals and electro drum loops. Louisa’s soaring vocals become the epicentre of each

song with little stringing it together. Each moody hair toss comes with an unimaginative guitar throng and lit-tle else. Instead we’re tempted away for a split second to enjoy King Krule in the beautiful Holy Trinity Church.

But it’s not long before Splashh’s fresh retro sounds encompass The Refectory. Bound in baggy t-shirts and matching long locks, each lyric is incomprehen-sible as the washed out gui-tars rumble around the half-full arena. The songs chug a l o n g

FOR THE LOVE

OF THE MUSIC

A FESTIVAL WITHOUT WALLS

ALLOWING THE PUBLIC TO

RELAX IN THE CITY’S MAIN

EATERIES AND THEN HEAD

BACK INTO THE MUSIC AT

WILL. A UNIQUE EVENT THAT

BELONGS ON THE CALENDAR

Plan all you

want, create your spreadsheets

and pace yourself, but as soon as you hit the

city something makes you dash from venue to venue like a headess

chicken catching snapshots of music.

Only in Leeds would you see The Pigeon Detectives play at two in the afternoon sandwiched between Alu-naGeorge and The Walkmen. Even trying to decipher the schedule is a headache. Among the queues and beer gardens we hop into Jacob Banks at the cosy Wardrobe, who, aside from promising us a ‘Rainy Day’, manages to restore our Zen, at least temporarily.

Little Comets, a band overshadowed by the likes of Bombay Bicycle Club, play to an opportunistic crowd at the Academy who remain trans-fixed as long as they’re p ip ing

through their hap-

py-go- lucky chiming pop. As the

band

tries to reclaim the crowd during a low-key ballad chaos ensues, and it’s only 4pm.

A nip over to the Met and Leeds’ own Witch Hunt muster up their best Kills impression with mixed vo-cals and electro drum loops. Louisa’s soaring vocals become the epicentre of each song with little stringing it together. Each moody hair toss comes with an un-imaginative guitar throng and little else. Instead we’re tempted away for a split second to enjoy King Krule in the beautiful Holy Trinity Church.

But it’s not long before Splashh’s fresh retro sounds encom-pass The Refectory. Bound in baggy t-shirts and matching l o n g

FOR THE LOVE

OF THE MUSIC

A FESTIVAL WITHOUT WALLS

ALLOWING THE PUBLIC TO

RELAX IN THE CITY’S MAIN

EATERIES AND THEN HEAD

BACK INTO THE MUSIC AT

WILL. A UNIQUE EVENT THAT

BELONGS ON THE CALENDAR

Plan all you

want, create your spreadsheets

and pace yourself, but as soon as you hit the

city something makes you dash from venue to venue like a headess

chicken catching snapshots of music.

Only in Leeds would you see The Pigeon Detectives play at two in the afternoon sandwiched between Alu-naGeorge and The Walkmen. Even trying to decipher the schedule is a headache. Among the queues and beer gardens we hop into Jacob Banks at the cosy Wardrobe, who, aside from promising us a ‘Rainy Day’, manages to restore our Zen, at least temporarily.

Little Comets, a band overshadowed by the likes of Bombay Bicycle Club, play to an opportunistic crowd at the Academy who remain trans-fixed as long as they’re p ip ing

through their hap-

py-go- lucky chiming pop. As the

band

tries to reclaim the crowd during a low-key ballad chaos ensues, and it’s only 4pm.

A nip over to the Met and Leeds’ own Witch Hunt muster up their best Kills impression with mixed vo-cals and electro drum loops. Louisa’s soaring vocals become the epicentre of each song with little stringing it together. Each moody hair toss comes with an un-imaginative guitar throng and little else. Instead we’re tempted away for a split second to enjoy King Krule in the beautiful Holy Trinity Church.

But it’s not long before Splashh’s fresh retro sounds encom-pass The Refectory. Bound in baggy t-shirts and matching l o n g

FOR THE LOVE

OF THE MUSIC

A FESTIVAL WITHOUT WALLS

ALLOWING THE PUBLIC TO

RELAX IN THE CITY’S MAIN

EATERIES AND THEN HEAD

BACK INTO THE MUSIC AT

WILL. A UNIQUE EVENT THAT

BELONGS ON THE CALENDAR

Plan all you

want, create your spreadsheets

and pace yourself, but as soon as you hit the

city something makes you dash from venue to venue like a headess

chicken catching snapshots of music.

Only in Leeds would you see The Pigeon Detectives play at two in the afternoon sandwiched between Alu-naGeorge and The Walkmen. Even trying to decipher the schedule is a headache. Among the queues and beer gardens we hop into Jacob Banks at the cosy Wardrobe, who, aside from promising us a ‘Rainy Day’, manages to restore our Zen, at least temporarily.

Little Comets, a band overshadowed by the likes of Bombay Bicycle Club, play to an opportunistic crowd at the Academy who remain trans-fixed as long as they’re p ip ing

through their hap-

py-go- lucky chiming pop. As the

band tries to reclaim the crowd during a low-key ballad

chaos ensues, and it’s only 4pm.

A nip over to the Met and Leeds’ own Witch Hunt muster up their best Kills impres-

sion with mixed vocals and electro drum loops. Louisa’s soaring vocals become the epicentre of each

song with little stringing it together. Each moody hair toss comes with an unimaginative guitar throng and lit-tle else. Instead we’re tempted away for a split second to enjoy King Krule in the beautiful Holy Trinity Church.

But it’s not long before Splashh’s fresh retro sounds encompass The Refectory. Bound in baggy t-shirts and matching long locks, each lyric is incomprehen-sible as the washed out gui-tars rumble around the half-full arena. The songs chug a l o n g

FOR THE LOVE

OF THE MUSIC

A FESTIVAL WITHOUT WALLS

ALLOWING THE PUBLIC TO

RELAX IN THE CITY’S MAIN

EATERIES AND THEN HEAD

BACK INTO THE MUSIC AT

WILL. A UNIQUE EVENT THAT

BELONGS ON THE CALENDAR