Read day one HERE
Read day two HERE
Read day three HERE
Dour’s final day, and I’m preparing to go out with a flourish. But I’m starting with something I perhaps should have done more of over the last three days: seeing a couple of bands from Belgium. Since I’m in the country, it’s only fair…
First up, Madensuyu: two guys, a heck of a load of noise. Think the dance-friendliness of DFA’79 with overtones of Krautrock repetition and bingo: nail on the head. If the pair were British no doubt The Fly at least would have given them some Ones To Watch exposure; since they’re from Belgium, they’ve more chance of selling rancid moules on a motorway hard shoulder over this side of the channel than they have a record or two. The Hickey Underworld have enjoyed a little press in the UK, but the Antwerp-based four-piece sound a lot like late Pearl Jam-meets-early Radiohead from where I’m standing. I’m later assured, after scuttling elsewhere after three songs, that they’ve some crackers in the canon. Should’ve played them sooner, methinks.
From the predictably perfunctory to the passionately powerful: Sleepy Sun’s heady fare might not resonate with absolute originality, calling as it does upon influences past ranging from prog-rock greats to psychedelic overlords, but the effect on the slightly buzzing brain is marvellous. It’s like being wrapped in candyfloss and rolled down a hillside into a bubbling pot of caramel; only less likely to rot your teeth, more so to leave you with tinnitus. If the likes of Dead Meadow, Black Mountain and Comets On Fire fiddle your junk, best check this Californian crew out ASAP via their debut long-player, ‘Embrace’ (REVIEW). Also appearing at Dour from the sunshine of the west coast are The Night Marchers, whose frontman Speedo delights in repeatedly thanking the German crowd for giving it up for the band. He’s kidding of course, playing the joker to an appreciative few at the La Petite Maison stage – it’s a shame more don’t see this group, comprised of ex-members of Rocket From The Crypt, Hot Snakes and Bardo Pond, but those who make the effort are treated to some premier league garage-punk. I near enough stamp my right foot numb.
The Clubcircuit double-header of An Albatross and Rolo Tomassi is something for the stronger stomachs on site, as both acts yelp and flail all the way through their respective sets, as if various sensitive areas are aflame. The former, Pennsylvania-spawned troupe thrill with some of the most frenetic moves seen on stage all festival; coupled with splattered hardcore riffs and freaky circus organs, it’s the sort of experience which leaves the casual onlooker not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Sheffield’s Rolo Tomassi appear oddly tame by comparison, but still two-fifths of the band make a beeline for the crowd more than once, and lead screamer Eva body-pops her way back and forth across the stage like a demon ballerina.
Bob Log III is an artist who has to be seen for any sense to be made of the on-paper what of a dude in a lamé suit (perhaps – it’s gold, and tightly fitted), playing dirty slide-guitar blues with a punk attitude, sporting a massive protective helmet. He’s a daredevil without a cannon to fire himself out of; instead, the only risk he takes is having two young women come and sit on his knees, jiggling them as he stomps out another clap-along racket. The fella’s last album is called ‘My Shit Is Perfect’… today, yup, just about.
Looking for all the world like they’re here to spoil the party, The Horrors take the stage looking as if they’d rather be playing to a bus stop… with one person waiting at it… who’s looking the other way… and listening to an iPod. But, after a few swigs of what I assume is coffee, wiry frontman Faris Badwan jerks alive, and suddenly the atmosphere changes – the front few rows begin to leap in appreciation, and there’s a feverishness that spreads throughout the crowd. Come the climax of ‘Sea Within A Sea’ – the entire set is drawn from the band’s new LP, ‘Primary Colours’ (REVIEW), meaning fans of debut effort ‘Strange House’ leave disappointed – the tent’s a flood of colour, a rich cacophony of textured guitar and pulsing beats complementing the dazzling stage lights perfectly. What starts slowly turns out to be a genuine festival high.
Caribou is pleasantly diverting, but really, really, I’m after something to get the blood pumping, with just hours to go before a Eurostar trip back to Londres. ‘Melody Day’ is lovely – light, romantic, everything you’d want in a chilled-out track to meditate to… But I want rock, and rock is what’s on offer when Boss Hog storm Dour with a blisteringly boisterous performance. At times it’s a little too much, actually; but when it’s a toss up between Jamie Lidell and Rahzel so far as alternatives go… it’s time to stand in the rain and wait for the headliner.
Sorry, headliners, as while much pre-festival talk is of Aphex Twin, the man Richard D James is joined by regular partner in crime Hecker for a visually arresting Last Arena set. Shame it’s so quiet, though – even stood in the middle of the crowd, down the slope from the festival’s wall of eateries, it’s hard to truly take in every nuance of what’s being played. Ultimately it’s not the pummelling cherry on the cake of Dour 2009, but Aphex and Hecker at least provide a fine techno soundtrack to the slipping from Sunday into Monday, and the slow walk back to camp to pack up in ready for an early alarm and a ride back to Lille.
– – –
Look out for a photo gallery from the Dour Festival on ClashMusic.com soon.
