End Of The Road, is about as boutique a festival as you can get is this fine country I’m so proud to be reacquainted with of late. It is one of the last festivals of the British summer so following the likes of Glastonbury, Great Escape, Reading/Leeds and the ever-appearing deep house festivals which get announced by the week is no easy feat which is why EOTR does what so many don’t and concentrates not just on the curation of awesome music but all those little niceties which help make your weekend just that little bit more special.
Peacocks running around the Great British countryside screaming their hearts out in time with the music, excursions into the woods stumbling upon miniature pianos to play at your will, after hour camp fire parties, a comedy stage with which we were lucky enough to stumble upon Mark Watson causing a rapture of hysterics, the finest locally brewed ale yet no restriction on bringing your own booze in, some of the best food stalls I’ve seen anywhere let alone at a festival, from North African tajine to paella to raclette to salt beef bagels to pancakes to South Indian dosa to Cornish ploughmans to NY style pizza, the list goes on. I think we made it our aim to eat a different cuisine for each meal three times a day. There was a games area with table tennis, Jenga, ten pin bowling and some other weird games I’m pretty sure people had made up there and then, haystacks carved into the shapes of animals, people napping uninterrupted wherever they see fit, a double decker bus serving fine tea and hot chocolate, a postal service who would track down and deliver a note to whomever you desire, a silent disco Brit-pop style and heaps more which I can’t even fathom to recall at this stage.
Musical highlights were no short commodity either with Thursday’s launch introducing us to the enigmatic Ezra Furman who we’ve been hearing so much of lately. If a quirky, cross-dressing, punk, folk, Dylan type singer songwriter is of interest then look no further than this Chicago based kook. Friday was blessed with the mighty Black Lips who pack a live punch like no other with their happy go lucky garage rock, the utmost soul and stunning grand piano mastery of Benjamin Clementine, two man strong Drenge’s incomprehensibly huge sound, the idiosyncratic St Vincent and her supreme vocal and plucking abilities, finally drawn to a close by a very special performance from the No Other Band which is simply-put; Beach House’s Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally, Fleet Foxes’ Robin Pecknold, Grizzly Bear’s Daniel Rossen and ex-Fairport Convention man Iain Matthews come together with members of Wye Oak and Celebration to reconstruct the lost 1974 masterpiece, No Other by Gene Clark formally of The Byrds.
Saturday had been a day to both dread and cherish since the release of the schedule saw that The Flaming Lips and John Grant would overlap and an awful decision had to be made. For me the first forty-five minutes of Flaming Lips seemed adequate as John Grant’s live show is something I just cannot miss. Despite it being about the 15th time he just get’s better every time. Please do yourself a favour and check out his recent hit record Pale Green Ghosts and if your town is ever lucky enough to be graced with his presence, then go! His closing show on the Garden Stage, which by the way is the most amazing festival stage EVER, was a joy to behold and left the whole audience choking back tears of joy at this young man’s utter genius.
Sunday was the last day of music and it was yet another day jam packed with brilliance accompanied by the best weather of the whole weekend. This aberration meant that practically the whole festival was perched at the Garden Stage ciders in hand to bathe and watch the likes of Grizzly Bear’s Daniel Rossen weave his acoustic magic. The forthcoming set of one of my favourite artists of the year, tUnE-yArDs, dragged me away from the cosy garden and boy was that worth it. If you think the record’s good then you have to see them live. Merrill Garbus’ soaring vocals are the sort of thing you expect to hear from a twenty person strong choir in a chapel not from a petite young thing in a huge, open field. The three sets of drum make for an emphatic atmosphere and the whole crowd rose to tap their feet and swing their hips for the New England natives. Most of the audience stayed at the Woods Stage for the forthcoming Yo La Tengo and Wild Beasts performances but I was more interested in Kiwi group Tiny Ruins, fronted by the quite wonderful Holly Fullbrook. They’re acoustic folk songs are written with such guile and mystique which seemed to really en-capture the whole weekend in a forty-five minute set.
It was all drawing to a nice, serene close as a band called Horse Thief from Oklahoma stepped out on stage, beards in abundance, and quickly became my find of the weekend. High tempo, resounding guitar riffs, solos and some hugely hooky melodies. One to keep an eye on for sure!
I’ll leave you with a playlist I put together of the best of the bunch from this year’s festivities, and although it’s the next best thing to being there, I highly recommend making the trip for the 2015 edition no matter where you are in the world.
-Stan R
