According to Pete Frame’s book Rock Family Trees, Fairport Convention had 15 different line-ups between 1968 and 1978, the period covered by the new box set Come All Ye – The First 10 Years. Fairport Convention #7, extant from November 1971 to February 1972, featured no one from the first three iterations of the band, which had taken them up to June 1969. Evidently, the actuality of Fairport Convention is fluid.
new music reviews
Javi Fedrick
Representing the best of the current psych revival’s many faces, the scuzziness of The Moonlandingz and overwhelming groove of Goat all seem initially out of place amongst the mock-Greek décor of the O2 Academy Brixton. With an audience that doesn’t stop bopping through both the bands and stellar DJ sets in between, however, the night feels far more transcendental than awkward.
There is a third act on the bill that also deserves mention. The futuristic pop of British alt-folk perennial Jane Weaver is nothing short of immense. The unearthly soundscapes of her most recent album, Modern Kosmology, are replaced by a more driving, insistent sound live, and never is this more evident than on the single “Slow Motion”, which is arresting in its snaking synths and steady drums. “The Architect” is another musical thunderstorm, with Weaver balanced on top of the locked-in, grooving rhythm section perfectly. Reminiscent of the poppier sides of the hauntological Ghost Box Records catalogue, her formidable vocals hang between siren and banshee throughout the set, and are particularly melancholic on “I Wish”. Weaver saves what may be her least tumultuous song, “I Need a Connection”, until last. It blossoms slowly but, eventually, the whole audience stands enthralled by her emotionally charged crying out of the title phrase.
It's loud, it's infectious, it's everything Goat do best
The Moonlandingz are like a pair of festival wellies – filthy, battered and given to trampling all in their wake. They’re instantly enjoyable; teetering between rockabilly, synth-pop and glam rock, they’ve got the stomp of Chumbawumba, the grit of early Pixies, and a charm that is unmistakeably their own. Set opener “Vessels” is a beast of a track, echoing round the room as singer Lias Saoudi writhes across the stage. “Sweet Saturn Mine” is the song equivalent of an earthquake, or possibly a military march played by a circus, while “The Rabies are Back” is almost “Proud-Mary”-ish in its lilting groove, sending the front half of the audience into frenzied flailing. In perhaps the most unexpected and touching moment of their set, “Lufthansa Man” culminates in a synth solo which comes on like Magazine covering the Sherlock theme tune. There’s not a dry armpit in the room by the end of their riotous time on stage.
Up to this point, it’s been a near flawless gig, and Goat don’t break the run in quality. Dipping in and out of funk, ambient, classic rock, and endless strains of global roots influence, their hypnotic set keeps the audience swaying then headbanging, by turn, all night. Songs like the cute, flute-led “Union of Mind and Soul” are endearing in their own plodding, simple way, but their set really takes off with hip-shakers such as “Goatfuzz” and “Gathering of Ancient Tribes”. Above walls of distortion, Djembe drums and sitar-like guitar noodling, the ululating vocalists shine in their shamanic garb, shaking, twisting, shrieking, and leading the audience in crazed chants. The jewel in Goat’s crown is the rollicking “Run to Your Mama”, taken from their acclaimed debut album World Music. It’s loud, it’s infectious, it’s everything Goat do best; and live, it’s impossible not to be caught up in the ecstasy of the band and their fans.
Exhausted but content, there’s no way the audience can leave unhappy.
Overleaf: Watch Goat's brain-frazzling, almost hour-long set live at Glastonbury 2015
Thomas H. Green
Camp Bestival 2017 was defined by the weather and how everyone reacted to it. DJ-impresario Rob Da Bank’s family festival, which reached its tenth edition this year, took place, as ever, on the Lulworth Estate in Dorset. However, where the previous nine have cast the grassland surrounding the rebuilt 17th Century castle in balmy, blissful sunshine, the tenth most certainly did not.
Peter Culshaw
Arriving on Thursday for the opening act Orchestra Baobab’s instantly recognisable mellifluous tones spreading out from the main stage over the Wiltshire countryside, it was clear that a high standard had been set for the rest of WOMAD. Whether it's in a small bar in Dakar, the Jazz Café in London, or playing to many thousands here, they are one of the great bands – fabulously musical without being flashy.
graeme.thomson
Kendal Calling is a lovely festival. Charmingly misnamed – it’s set 30 miles from Kendal in Lowther Deer Park, a couple of miles from Penrith, in the northern Lakes – it takes place over four days in spectacularly beautiful Cumbrian countryside.
Liz Thomson
For an act that hasn't visited the UK since 2009, the Indigo Girls might have been surprised at the audience's familiarity with their work. It’s now a given that artists have to tour to sell records, but judging by the vigour with which the audience in Islington joined in with the songs, sometimes in an informal call-and-response, the UK must provide a good flow of royalties. And no doubt absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Tim Cumming
Now in its 35 year, Womad is embedded into British festival culture, flying the flags of a musical multiculturalism that is about breaking down barriers and building new relationships. It’s not something you want to lose.
Helen Wallace
"Everyone suddenly burst out singing"’ wrote Siegfried Sassoon in his paean to humanity amidst the horror of war, "Everyone Sang". And sing they did, all 180 of them, crammed onto Garsington’s modest stage for its new community opera Silver Birch by Roxanna Panufnik to a libretto by Jessica Duchen. Here were primary school children, teenagers, professional singers, members of a women’s refuge, ex-military personnel, and a waggy-tailed dog. Even Sassoon’s own great-nephew lent voice to a chorus of roof-raising passion and purpose.
Liz Thomson
On a dreary evening in what passes for summer, the news unutterably grim, an evening in the company of South Africa’s greatest export can’t help but lift the spirits. The nine singers that comprise Ladysmith Black Mambazo are mostly blood family, sons of Joseph Shabalala - who founded the group in 1960 following a series of dreams in which he heard traditional Zulu isicathamiya - their cousins and two friends, and what an amazing stage act they are.
Kieron Tyler
Between them, Marylebone Beat Girls and Milk of the Tree cover the years 1964 to 1973. Each collects tracks recorded by female singers: whether credited as solo acts, fronting a band or singer-songwriters performing self-penned material. That the two compilations dovetail is coincidental – they were released by different labels on the same day – but they embrace the period when the singer-songwriter was codified and when, as the liner notes of Milk of the Tree put it, “female voices began to be widely heard in the [music] industry.”