Standon Calling, Friday: Review

A charming weekend in the hills, Standon Calling provided the perfect small party; it’s fine display of progressive music sitting with ease alongside an immersive murder mystery theme. Sound Screen arrived on Friday lunchtime: We noted the enticing outdoor swimming pool adjacent to the Crooked House stage (with mocked-up vintage library, study, bedroom..), the secret cinema, the wonderful ‘Gabberdashery’, and the faux-high street set along one of the festival’s walkways- complete with art gallery, police station, town hall- all these locations would gain in import as the weekend’s murder narrative unfurled around us. After a tour of the small but perfectly formed site, we were ready for an excellent opening day’s line up.

We first caught a mid-afternoon set from Bo Ningen, whose almighty racket from inside the Twisted Licks tent was drawing quite a crowd. Hailing from Japan, although now based in London and signed to Stolen Recordings- their four members elicit a triumphant cacophony from their guitars and drums, a masterclass in math-rock.
Bo Ningen

As vocalist Taigen shrieked, guitarists Yuki and Kohhei traded power-riffing with sky-scraping wails- they made for an engrossing sound. The band unassumingly demanded your attention throughout their short set, their awkward movements giving way to a rapturous implosion at their eventual end: a 15 minute long jam imploding under oceans of feedback, and thunderous crashes as the guitars were thrown around and the drummer exhausted himself. But this wasn’t some rock-parody, it was an exorcism that worked on every level and made for a fantastic opening concert.

After catching a Thai dinner from one of the festival’s hand-picked foot outlets (discreet, reasonable and delicious)- we journeyed over to the main stage, where Spanish DJ El Guincho was performing with band. Fans will understand that theirs is the kind of music which would benefit from sunlight, an aural smattering of carnival beats and tropicalia- but some could have told the Hertfordshire weather. As skies greyed and the first raindrops fell, a small crowd fought the immediate conditions to enjoy an alternate reality where sun was plentiful and the mojito’s kept coming. It was an interesting set of jangly-looped numbers, eventually coming around to the songs they’re most known for- and the crowd were largely appreciative of the effort and sympathetic for the weather.

At the gig’s end, the rain was pouring but fortunately our next appointment was to back inside the Twisted Licks tent. One of the subtle beauties of Standon Calling is the scheduling; when one band finishes, another starts, and so you can move between stages without missing a great deal. Unsuspecting festival goers strolled in to escape the rain. An excited throng packed the immediate front of stage, whilst Fucked Up sound-checked their own instruments. And then it happened, the band tearing through the opening numbers as the crowd immediately went ballistic.

Classics from recent LP The Chemistry of Common Life were belted out with an utter passion, and vocalist Damian Abraham (Pink Eyes) soon found himself shirtless, amongst the crowd, jumping with us. As the band performed immaculately on stage, the audience began to resemble a riot-scene, security guards hoisting the microphone cable over people’s heads. There was a feeling of sheer euphoria amongst the crowd, and it made for a joyous occasion- an outpouring of jumping and headbanging married to a collective spirit of good-will. When someone fell down, they were picked up with immediacy. Fucked Up were electric, spurred on by the crowd’s enthusiasm- it truly seems that wherever this band go, whichever corner of the Earth they play in- the results are the same; a staggeringly good performance and blissfully riotous crowd reaction.

By this point, the sun had set and the crowds were making their way to the Main Stage for the Friday headliner. Sound Screen was particularly curious as to how Liars would go down in a headline slot- for all their critical acclaim, they (sadly) remain a fairly niche outfit. These fears were to be proved groundless though, as the New York by Berlin alt-rock band tore through a set which took in their entire back catalogue. Opener ‘I can still see an outside world’ was a slow burning prophecy of what was about to happen, soon after this quiet paranoia had been replaced with the outright schizophrenic shredding of ‘Scarecrows on a killer slant’ and it was becoming clear that Liars had come here to be uncompromising. After five albums honing their unique craft, the band have accumulated an enviably strong repertoire and they performed with a passion, reinventing ‘The garden was crowded and outside’ as a fiery confessional, devoid of all pretense. Vocalist Angus Andrew was in fine mood, heckling the crowd and stalking the stage doing his best bird-dance.

Cuts from seminal LP ‘Drums not Dead’ were a percussive interlude from the manic rock indulgences of their eponymous record, but where ‘Freak Out’ and ‘Sailing to Byzantium’ offered stadium-rock sized behemoths (in an alternate reality, where stadium rock is good), it was the austere ‘The other side of Mt Heart Attack’ that really captured the moment, arriving at the set’s midpoint. It’s gentle refrain of ‘I can always be found’ resonating around Standon’s hills and trees, drenching the audience in a warm reassurance. Their encore was less comforting, a triad of percussive jams that took in two numbers from their ‘difficult’ 2nd album. Liars fans in the audience were unabashed- as the set finale ‘Broken Witch’ enticed an eerie chant amongst the front few rows of ‘We are the army you see through the red haze of blood, blood, blood, blood…”- it was fantastically chilling, and made for a fitting end to a set which was as uncompromising as it was inspired. Any doubts about Liars suitability for a headline slot cast aside, they had come to Standon Calling, had been unequivocally themselves- had utterly triumphed for it.

The night was seen in with a 1am DJ set from German electronic music producer Pantha Du Prince (real name, Hendrik Weber). Granted it was late and on the first night, but a small crowd had massed to witness his otherworldly beat work; a blend of gliding strings and textures over precise drum patterns, clicks and pops.

Weber seemed on fine form, mixing cuts from his last two records with ease, providing a lulled dreamscape of perpetual motion. For whatever reason though, the Twisted Licks PA didn’t seem loud enough, and a low warble of people’s conversation was audible over what could have been an engrossing gig. Perhaps the crowd didn’t take to it- but they hung around and were dancing.

At the set’s end, Weber nodded to a few in the crowd who had paid him their complete attention- it was clear that he’d enjoyed the set but felt it could have gone better- quite why he was so quiet was inexplicable especially considering the sheer volume of the drum and bass that was emanating from the Alcatraz dance stage not 40 feet away. All this considered though, Pantha Du Prince put in an enjoyable shift that highlighted his many strengths as a DJ and producer. Musically faultless but sullied by an at times indifferent crowd.