You may have read, somewhere, that the StrangeForms fest has reached its tenth year this year. You may even have read all about the nine previous years. All about the bands that have played, the venues that have hosted those bands, the people1 who have organised and run those events, and the weird drinks that got everybody drunk. If you have, or even if you have not, prepare yourself to read all about YEAR TEN, during which some unexpected things happen.
Being the tenth edition of the fest, one might expect something a bit special and, to some extent, that’s what we get. For a start, STEWART and KERRY have thoughtfully arranged for a glorious sunny weekend, which is a very good thing. There are fewer returning favourites this year – no ALPHA MALE TEA PARTY, no POLY-MATH, no FALL OF MESSIAH, no VASA, etc – and whilst it’s always nice to see those familiar faces, it’s perhaps even nicer to make some new friends. Which we do.
Eventually.
Because, when I arrive, headliners NORDIC GIANTS and their gear are still occupying the stage and it takes quite a while to get everything cleared for openers PATIENCE, probably the most appropriately named band on the bill under the circumstances. The delay will have a knock-on effect which will never be resolved, and things will continue to run late throughout the day. Still, things DO get under way, and PATIENCE2 – who are not unaware of the irony of their name – get things going in their bouncy poppy alt-rock/emo way. I’m not an expert in that field, but it strikes me that they’d appeal to those who enjoy the likes of PARAMORE. They’re as sunny as the weather.
The weekend is, as they say, ‘sold the fuck out’ and it shows. The place is full right from the kick-off, which is nice, as the early audiences have sometimes been a bit thin in previous years. Not this year, though. Because of the weather, though, the place empties after each band, everybody decamping to the tables outside to eat, drink, chat, bask in the sunshine and, possibly, to plot the downfall of civilisation. In which case, we would no longer need a. . .
CIVIL SERVICE! But for now, here they are, an ‘experimental instrumental’3 band from Manchester, although none of them are actually from Manchester. They do post-rock with lots of piano and long song titles like ‘She Would Never Retreat, Their Negativity Just Made Her Stronger’ and they are dead good. If you like that sort of thing. Which I do, and so does the rest of the crowd. They finish with a brand-new song – only two days old, just a baby really – set-listed as ‘TOTL’, which turns out to mean ‘Turn Out The Lights’ and which you should look out for when it gets released into the wild, because it is very fine indeed. They’re looking for a new bass-player, by the way, so if you fancy a job, give ‘em a call. Would help if you can play bass.
Things are still running horribly late – I reckon we should just take that as read for the rest of the day and stop mentioning it – and Glaswegian doom(gaze?) quartet CWFEN are up next. That the crowd is totally unfazed by the dramatic shift in mood says a lot about the accepting nature of the StrangeForms audience. Math-rock, post-metal, shoegaze, doom, ambient, metalcore, etc, etc, it’s all good. Everybody is welcome. Cwfen’s hefty occult-themed spooky doom certainly delights the audience, packing back in after a sunny break. Face-painted singer/occasional guitarist Siobhan (or Agnes, depending on which source you read) has a minor wobble during ‘Reliks’ but they stop, gather themselves and carry on, her sweet cleans and guttural roars hitting the spot as if nothing had happened. Their guitarist seems to favour ice-cream themed instruments, one a nice pink (clearly raspberry) and the other a minty blue/green. Not very METAL, but entirely suitable for the weather. I can’t honestly say that they’re the weekend’s most danceable band, but there’s a fellow at the front who’s clearly here to see them, shaking his booty with a vengeance throughout their set. He’ll be back tomorrow, wearing his brand new CWFEN shirt.
The weekend’s first math-rockers next, and the first appearance of that honking monstrosity, the saxophone in the hands of Halifaxers WOT GORILLA?, returnees from the 2019 fest. They do proper quirky, proggy math, and don’t sound like GENESIS at all4. Sadly, they don’t grip me – although they do go down well with most of the crowd – and I take the opportunity to nip next door for a pair of samosas. More about saxophones later.
Taking ‘quirky’ to another level are the oddly named SOCKS AND BALLERINAS from Bristol5 . Leonardo Calamati constructing/deconstructing songs bit by bit with guitar, synths and many pedals over a flexible backbone of Katalin Helfenbein’s drums, they make math fun and joyful and, indeed, dancey. I had wondered if they would manage to pull the crowd back in, but I needn’t have been concerned. The place was full and bouncing, and quite rightly so. They are, as the title of their recent album would suggest, A Bit Jumpy.
BUREAU DE CHANGE, up next, don’t do FaceBook, so I know nothing about them. Turns out they’re a spiky post-punk quartet from Bath, whose fierce young lady singer will take NO crap from men. And quite right, too. They’re angular and punky, and really quite rude – one chorus demands that the subject of the song should ‘SUCK MY DICK!’. Anatomically dubious, but we get the point. I suspect that if you like CLT DRP, you’ll like Bureau de Change. I like CLT DRP.
A couple of returnees next, representing entirely different points on the alternative music compass. First, its Dublin based math-rock nutters BICURIOUS, as mad as a bag of weasels and just as hyperactive. Dressed in their customary white vest/shorts combo, guitarist/singer Taran (Who’s French, not Irish) scampers around the stage like a twitchy stork, frequently joined front-of-stage by drummer Gavin (Definitely Irish. Not French) urging the willing crowd to join in / sing along / dance harder. Which they do. To end their set, Taran disappears into the crowd, still playing. Gavin grabs a snare drum and follows him. I have no idea where they go, but I can still hear them so they must still be alive in there somewhere. Eventually, they make their ways back to the stage and finish things off, a sweaty mess. Bonkers, and brilliant.
Totally different, but just as good, the mighty SVALBARD are next. Simultaneously euphoric and hammer-heavy, this is METAL with honesty, integrity and humanity. They are on top form, the shared vocals of Serena Cherry and Liam Phelan –harsh and clean, clean and harsh – working together seamlessly. Songs of vulnerability and defiance delivered with riffs you could use to demolish concrete walls. This is lovely stuff, brutal, and yet intimate. They acknowledge their debt to those who have gone before, who have made Svalbard what it is, with set closer ‘Eternal Spirits’. This, I think, is how to do metal. [Editor adds: While preparing this review for publication, Svalbard have sadly announced they will disband in 2026.]
Those last two bands, and many others over the weekend, are critical of the Supreme Court/current government’s position on trans issues, making the point that StrangeForms is a safe place for everybody, a place where you can be whoever you want to be without fear. Always has been, but it seems more important than ever right now. And quite right, too. We need more of this.
I mentioned up at the top that ‘unexpected things happen’, and now, with headliners NORDIC GIANTS, we find the first of those things. I HAD expected to be enthralled by the enigmatic art-rock duo, their apocalyptic dystopian video imagery and their driving drum ’n’ piano post-rock but, unexpectedly, I’m not. Maybe it’s just the lateness of the start, and their seemingly endless faffing about, but I’ve lost patience and I’m really not in the mood. I get that it’s supposed to be an immersive experience, rather than just another gig, but I’m feeling peevish and just can’t bring myself to care enough. Yes, their feathery head-dresses and the darkness/smoke make them look inhuman, mysterious and larger than life, but I’ve seen them around the venue during the day, and they’re just two blokes. If we take away the trimmings, they’re no more – or less – than a decent post-rock band, in the same ballpark as 65DOS, maybe, with their skittery drums and heavy use of piano. Wherever I stand, the big screen at the back is obscured by the wee screen at the front, and I just can’t lose myself in the performance. Just me, probably, as the rest of the substantial crowd seems happy. They MIGHT have brought out the trumpet, or the bowed guitar, but if they did, I missed it. Ah, well, my loss, I suppose, but I can’t help feeling a bit disappointed. I grumble off back to my hotel. Back tomorrow.
And so to DAY 2.
There is a certain portion of the early crowd that will appreciate a gentle start to the day, for beer-related reasons, and that is exactly what we get. WHAT? NAH offer a supremely chilled brand of math-rock, subtly jazzy and a bit poppy. And, in today’s first surprise, the saxophone does a lot of the heavy lifting, but IN A GOOD WAY! I feel my world view crumbling as my hatred of the honking monstrosity is knocked back on its heels. Many hangovers are gently soothed6, and we are now set up for the day.
ÓMOIA, are the opposite of ‘chilled’. Youthful local ‘queer-core’ quintet, they look like electro/industrial goths but actually do an energetic emo/metalcore/alt-rock thing, with themes of queer history, anger and frustration. ‘Section 28’, for example, examines the lasting harm caused by that iniquitous piece of legislation from nearly 40 years ago. They’re also great to watch, although their high-kicks and unfeasibly flexible bodies make me feel very old. Fiery singer Cerys demonstrates a remarkable range and enough energy to keep those massive boots flying for 30 solid minutes. A guitar is broken halfway through the set, and a replacement is borrowed from a-tota-so, a favour which will be returned, in a way, later.
Not much later, though, as a-tota-so are up next. Math-rock legends now, they seem heftier this year. Are they aiming for the metal market? Probably not. They are, however, giving us a full-on math-attack, with Marty on vocals, except when he isn’t. As is now traditional, there are guest singers. First up is regular Jethro Sutherland, providing the words for what appears to be an IRK cover, and then Cerys from Ómoia – guest vocalist #73, it seems – with an allegedly unrehearsed version of a-tota-so’s own ‘Choke’, which is so good that it’s hard to believe it’s not the result of lots of practice. Consider the loan of the guitar fully repaid.
The big surprises continue with EVERY HELL, about whom I know absolutely nothing7. I had, from the name alone, expected some kind of hardcore-adjacent thing, but that’s not at all what we get. It is, however, difficult to say exactly what it is that we DO get. What genre do they fit into? All of them at once, perhaps, or none. The guitarist looks like he should be in MASTODON, the bass player is clearly in a post-metal band. The singer resembles a refugee from a 70’s prog-metal band, maybe URIAH HEEP. The drummer is a bald lad with a beard. Some/most of them, it seems, used to be in BLACK PEAKS, amongst other bands. Self-described as ‘doom-pop’, their sound includes prog, metal, psychedelic, doom, jazz, punk, hardcore, pop and very nearly everything else. They’re hefty and melodic, chaotic, sweaty and very, very good. The vocals verge on the operatic at times, and there is heavy use of the saxophone but, once again, my dislike of that instrument is confounded. Great fun, and one of my highlights of the weekend.
And now for something, as they say, completely different. VLMV8, now a solo project of PETE LAMBROU, ex of MONSTERS BUILD MEAN ROBOTS, bring us minimalist ambient loveliness. Beautiful, heart-breaking piano-led songs built layer upon layer, and a voice that can bring me to tears. Which he actually does, at the end, when he steps away from his keyboard, picks up his guitar and plays ‘The Lighthouse’ in a haze of golden light. The simple melody loops in and out of itself, ending in a delicate wall of noise, Pete on his knees at his pedalboard. It’s not a ‘fun’ set, it’s not ‘party’ music, but it’s devastating. I’m broken.
I need some time after VLMV to get myself together, but not as much as we end up getting. The show is already running late – again – but HIDDEN MOTHERS are delayed further by some tech issues, with our heroic soundman Trev shuffling around on his knees, doing esoteric things involving a large bundle of cables coming out of a big box with lots of lights and knobs on9. Once they get going, though, Hidden Mothers – now a 4 piece – are magnificent. Blackened screamo-gaze, if such a thing exists, of the highest order. Dual vocals, with guitarist Luke Scrivens on the soulful cleans, and bassist Liam Knowles taking on the growly bits, they’re fairly firmly in the DEAFHEAVEN ballpark but, IMHO, better. They have to ditch a song, sadly, due to the delayed start and that’s a shame, because I’d like to see more of them.
Coincidentally, I WILL be seeing more of OVERHEAD, THE ALBATROSS quite soon, as they’ll be out on tour with MIDAS FALL at the end of May. For some reason, I had thought – without any evidence – that they were Australian, but they’re definitely not. They’re Irish, from Dublin. And they do an energetic brand of post-rock, synth-heavy and featuring mostly spoken-word vocals, heartfelt and emotional. Like a poetry reading at a GIAA show. Yes, I know, the GOD IS AN ASTRONAUT comparison is too easy, but the influence can’t be denied. But Overhead, the Albatross are better.
Seeing BIG LAD play is a full body work out. A chaotic two-man drums ’n’ noise assault. Apocalyptically loud. Supernaturally fast. But you can dance to it.10 Knob-twiddler Wayne Adams handles the synths and samples, but the heavy lifting is done by Henri Grimes, whose drums do a lot more than just make banging noises. I’m no expert on these things, but it seems to me that there is a lot of triggering going on – drums making sounds that hitting a skin with a stick never did when I was a lad. It’s a breath-taking, turbulent experience, and it’s hugely entertaining.
Finally, tonight’s headliners, and possibly my biggest surprise of the weekend. I’ve known AND SO I WATCH YOU FROM AFAR (to be referred to as ASIWYFA going forward, for brevity’s sake) for many years, ever since they were blazing around the wee clubs with the likes of LAFARO and MAYBESHEWILL but had fallen out of love with them sometime after their Gangs album. I’d seen them at the Core festival in Glasgow last year and was, frankly, underwhelmed. I’m expecting, therefore, to be disappointed once again, and to slump off home like a grumpy old bastard. But, oh boy, I’m so wrong.
You might think that things would be against them, being as they are at the end of a lengthy tour, with a stand-in drummer11 and a slightly poorly NIALL KENNEDY, but they are absolutely unstoppable tonight. Obviously, they’re going to be featuring stuff from their latest album, Megafauna, and indeed they do, kicking off with ‘Mother Belfast’. They’re hard to see, though, with thick fog and strong backlighting. Never mind. It’s not all new material, though, and they dig deep into their back catalogue – ‘Mullally’, ‘A Little Bit of Solidarity’, ‘Wasps’, and so on. They are bursting with energy, and they seem, to me anyway, to have recovered a large measure of the joy they showed in those early days. And that makes me happy. I’ve missed them. Still, I look at RORY’s vast pedalboard and fondly remember the old days when he would turn up with a few bits in a carrier bag. How times change.
‘Seven Billion People All Alive At Once’ ends on an extended ambient guitar outro before exploding into the unmistakeable DANG-DANG-DANG-deedley-deedley-dee of ‘Set Guitars to Kill’ and ASiWYFA are totally BACK! A brief break before an ‘encore’ of ‘Big Thinks Do Remarkable’, which sees our host STEWART crowd-surfed around the room – whether by choice or otherwise remains unclear – and then they are done. It’s a glorious ending to the weekend.
Strangeforms 10, then. A sold-out weekend of confounded expectations, surprises good and. . . not so good. Bands who make me grin like an idiot, and songs that make me cry. It’s not perfect, but to expect that would be unreasonable. One can’t love EVERYTHING. And I have to remember that the show is not aimed solely at me, but there are many, many others here whose opinions are as valid as mine. The (very few) bands that didn’t float MY boat made plenty of others happy.
Has it been a good weekend? Hell, yes!
Has it been ‘tenth anniversary special’ good? Yes, I believe it has. Lots of good new bands, and some quality returnees. Two – despite my personal gripes – worthy headliners. It’s hard to see how it could have been better. Stewart and the team have, I think, outdone themselves this year. I am happy, the rest of the crowd is – or seems to be – happy, and that’s what matters.
As always, I look forward to next year. And it seems I’m not the only one. Early Bird tickets – at 2024 prices – sell out before I get home on Monday, before any bands are announced. And if that’s not a vote of confidence, then I don’t know what is.
FOOTNOTES:
- Here I must give extra credit to the heroic KERRY RAMSEY, the true power behind the throne, for without her the alleged boss STEWART would be no more than a skinny Scotsman with a ginger mustache and a fondness for math-rock.
- Their singer is wearing a pair of camouflage dungarees, but they’re evidently not working, because we can see her quite clearly.
- ArcTanGent related post-rock humour.
- Do your OWN research.
- The Bristol, judging by their accents, in Italy. Or Finland.
- Not me. I was a good boy.
- This is a regular occurrence. I rarely do advance research, because I like to be surprised.
- Alma, obviously.
- Yes, that is the correct technical name for it. Whatever it is.
- Well, maybe YOU could. I couldn’t.
- Micheál Quinn, with Chris Wee away becoming a parent.
