“Where the heck am I?” I asked myself this question several times during the three-day return of the Hop Farm Music Festival. “Is this a rock ‘n’ roll event?” the answer´s no. Unlike other summer festivals full of tempting perversion, fascinating perdition and auto destruction, this one is more like a family picnic and a paradise for children and 60+ year olds. Here you will not find the pissed troublemakers, the potheads (and beyond) laying in the grass and the narcissistic renegades. Just a cute and small country side festival that despite it can praise itself of still maintaining the no sponsorship/no branding flag. This years edition, suffered from last minute cancellations (Dr. John and The Deacon Blue.) and a somewhat poor turn out, however despite that there was still some memorable performances to enhanced the long session in Kent.
Hop Farm is truly eclectic and inclusive. From vintage Gangsta Rap (Arrested Development) to traditional English folk (The Full English and Bellowhead.) From pretty weak indie-rock bands (The Jezabels, The Feeling and Maximo Park) to better ones (The Family Rain – a mixture between Jack White and The Artic Monkeys.) From the inclusion of femme fatale´s (Moya, Sophie Ellis Bextor, Caro Emerald and Nerina Pallot) to legendary ska/reggae acts (The Beat.) And from Britpop textures (The Lightning Seeds) to cabaretesque and new wave pop icons (Marc Almond.) It’s fair to say there is something for everyone at Hop Farm.
“If you don´t know this song then you shouldn´t be here”, says Ray Davies before playing ‘Lola’ while trying to lift the spirit of the crowd on Friday. After being notified that his sister passed away a few hours before his hit-filled headlining set, The Kinks front man didn’t have an easy night. How badly does the septuagenarian tried to cheer up and engage with the crowd without obtaining the desired response? So it came the sing-along anthems like ‘Tired of waiting for you’, ‘Sunny afternoon’, ‘Days’, ‘You really got me’ and ‘All day and all of the night’. It was brilliant, but the mans certainly not what he used to be. He is a proper legend, a true Rock ‘n’ Roll icon and one of the last vestiges of classic pop music, but to see him becoming a cheerleader just made me feel embarrassed. Time to move on maybe Ray? The proposed Kinks reunion should certainly be interesting.
An opposite and more welcoming response from the crowd embraced Saturday´s headliner Brian Wilson. The man responsible for building up the Californian sound seemed not to give a single fuck if we liked his set or not. But how could we not like it? After all those years full of Phil Spectoresque obsessions, auto destructive surplus and the imminent passing of time, Wilson´s walking is slow and cautious; his voice is weak and his gaze has a lost look that make me think of those LSD-fuelled nights when he was conceiving one of the most perfect pop albums ever made. But he is in good company now: an orchestra of ten brilliant and talented weirdoes – including Beach Boys´ founder member, Al Jardine – with the mission of lifting up the essential catalogue of his mentor. If there is somebody that can praise himself of creating the perfect 3 minute pop song, then it needs to be this genius of harmonies and sonic complexity. Songs like ‘California Girls’, ‘Sloop John B’, ‘God Only Knows’, ‘Good Vibrations’ or ‘Wouldn´t It Be Nice’ are a proof of that. If perfection in pop exists, then Wilson is the way to go. And live is just an experience only comparable to the incomparable.
Sunday’s headliner Grace Jones’ set transited between the awkwardness and the well-known extravaganza of this Jamaican 60 year oldentertainer. “Sing it motherfuckers”, begged Jones´ in several songs while trying to maintain an exhausted audience engaged. I didn´t have any expectations, but certainly, she´s more than just a ghost from the 80s and a terrible actress of cheesy movies. She´s a wonderful performer and an artist that throughout her set respects musical diversity: reggae, funk, cabaret, new wave, synth-pop and guitar-oriented rocking songs. All packed in a Bowie-like voice, extravagant custom changes, The Jones´ emblematic moment with the hulla hoop during ‘Slave to the rhythm’ and a wonderful rendition of Roxy Music´s ‘Love is the drug’. Still, my sake remains with Brian Wilson.
Elsewhere in the always desolated Jazz and Blues Lounge tent, Laurence Jones provided one of the best performances of the festival. Take a note of this young lad if you like the rocking blues. The man has talent and his passion for the blues is truly touching. A strong solo material, an enviable talent on the six strings, a good voice and a spectacular cover of ‘All along the watchtower’ were enough to buy me out.
On Saturday, Tony Joe White – seated throughout the whole performance – dressed in black a la Johnny Cash and just carrying an old guitar, a collection of harmonicas, a drummer and his septuagenarian sombre baritone-like voice full of dark blues and boogie, were sufficient to put the crowd on his pocket. But Sunday´s spectacular performance of Stan Webb & The Chicken Shack just make me want to go back to Paddock Wood. If you were in Hop Farm and you missed this, then you mislaid your priorities. Stan´s voice is mesmerizing: strong, original, adequate to the blues and passionate. His band is tight, precise and they know how to keep the groove while Webb´s offering us an unforgettable lesson of how to treat a Les Paul with respect.
In a parallel universe, The Daptone Super Soul Revue is one of the most entertaining and terrific acts I saw in a very long time. Just pure soul, gospel and funk enriched by more than 15 musicians. Three hours of unstoppable passion for the groove led by Sharon Jones´ entertaining and talented vocal and histrionic skills while she respectfully carries the legacy of Etta James, Tina Turner, Sam Cooke, James Brown and Sly and the Family Stone. Just brilliant.
While pub-rocker icon, Paul Heaton hit the main stage with Jacqui Abbot, I opted instead for Nick Lowe´s full set on acoustic, and I couldn´t be happier with my decision – an ace and intimate performance in a tent with just a handful of lucky ones in the crowd. The former producer of the Damned and Costello, looking like a rock ‘n’ roller between Buddy Holly, Elvis Presley´s quiff and Roy Orbison, topped the festival. So he brought the greats like ‘Where´s my everything?’, ‘Cruel to be kind’, Sensitive man’, ‘(What´s so funny ‘bout) peace, love and understanding’ and ‘Allison’ that blended pretty well with the rocking numbers.
Tired of the digestible music on the main stage, I left to encounter myself with another satisfying surprise of guitar-driven textures. I wonder how many times has Ian McNabb has listened to Neil Young and studied his movements and sound. This man – who has toured relentlessly since the mid 80s, transpires love and fascination for the Canadian legend and he´s not ashamed to openly undress his influences on stage. From the histrionic agitation to the long sonic bridges of Crazy Horse-like distorted solos and catchy melodies. But Ian´s more than just a copy and his best moments come when he emulates the legacy of his mentor, but without leaving behind the pop-like and glam chants. Keep an eye out for his latest album, ‘Eclectic Warrior’.
There was a place also for some veteran underdogs too. The Strawbs´ set on Friday was a strange show reminiscent of the early Bowie-like catalogue when he didn’t know if going hippie, progressive or a pursuer of English traditional folk was best. With three acoustic guitars, a synth and a disastrous voice that reminds me of a mash-up between Dylan and Bowie, The Strawbs have been living on the underrated territory for way too long, but now´s too late for them. The next day, The Pink Dairies, underdogs from the early 70s, wrapped up a set that transited between punk–like riffs to the ostentous and unnecessary guitars of psychedellia. Nice to see, but not memorable.
Yes, throughout the three-day celebration we had the cheesy and popular moments that perfectly fitted the music preferences of the 60 year old-something crowd. So it came Patrick Carrack´s blue-eyed soul set, Billy Ocean´s vocal romanticism, 10cc´s outstanding set and even James Blunt – dressed as a British pilot – enchanting the lustful eyes of mature women.
But not everything was cheesy and adult-contemporary related in Hop Farm. Some pioneer post-punk´s found a way to squeeze into the line-up. Echo and The Bunnymen´s show on Friday will prevail as one of the best ones from Hop Farm. Ian McCulloch is just a proper rockstar. Liverpudlian arrogance, natural northern coolness, a cigarette-like raspy voice, kick ass attitude, a new album on his pocket and the pride of writing some of the best songs of the 80s like ‘The Killing Moon’, ‘The Cutter’ and ‘Lips Like Sugar’, that exploded successfully within the crowd thirsty of melancholy and post-punk. Sunday´s Peter Hook & The Light set brought us back to Joy Division´s gloomy noises and New Order´s synth driven essentials in a poorly attended tent. We all know that he´s not the best singer, but when you listen live to Peter Hook´s legacy on the bass, then you cannot do anything but to take your hat off.
Next year´s gonna be a rough one for Hop Farm. A lot of work to do and plenty of time to sign big names, to properly define the target (if is either children, elder or youth), to define if this is a rock music festival or a family picnic and to find better ways to improve the poor attendance of this year.
Alejandro De Luna
@TheSenseOfDoubt
Alejandro De Luna
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