Whoever coined the phrase ‘London by the sea’ about Brighton was, on consideration, being a little too flattering towards the capital. Two weeks on from our dalliance with the Camden Crawl and we find ourselves in familiar territory for sure – reviewing a bunch of bands in various venues in a secluded area.
The only difference here is that, unlike our smog’n’smug-infested capital, Brighton possesses something vital to the festival experience – community. No, I’m not talking about your mud-hugging stoical hippy fest of Glasto nor even the “Bollocks!”-chanting pyromanic crèche that is Reading. No, what sets Brighton apart as a festival location is that the whole town seems to get involved. Not only that, the plethora of industry bods descending on the seaside en masse also highlights the sheer incestuous nature of the music world at large, for you are literally never further than a fart’s distance from somebody ‘important’ here. In that way, we suppose it’s like London, wherein you’re never more than 10 feet away from a rat. Except replace rat with journalist.
Our only respite being a special for-my-eyes-and-ears-only acoustic set by The Robot Heart – an exclusive just for us (OK, and a couple of mates and band entourage) set in the offices of Skint Records (hey – check our V.I.P credentials!). Having previously encountered frontman Tom Marsh in former incarnation Repairman – of which we were big fans – we’re soon bearing witness to leaps and bounds in this tiny office space as Marsh and his liltingly acoustic entourage perform four songs of such airbrushed beauty. Marsh’s voice retains a cavernous, haunted quality of old but has now found its perfect counterfoil in angel-voiced keyboardist Astra, who provides flight and fancy to Marsh’s earthbound world-weary soul.
Like Pink Floyd rendered into an oil painting by Midlake, the surreality of that juxtaposition becomes a tangible thing as the sun sets through the window, creating a sepia-toned moment during ghostly ballad ‘Static’ that sounds and feels like an old photograph. As if to illustrate that, a new rendering of old Repairman favourite ‘Lost In Stereo’ brings a flood of memories but washes the nostalgia in a fresh solution that brings the familiar into sharper, more direct focus. Repairman may be broken down, but The Robot Heart beats with rejuvenated vigour. Beautiful stuff.
And then it’s all from the sublime to the ridiculous… Click Here for Part 2!
Words by Stephen Brolan
Photos by Jane Hoskyn
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Continuing the Discussion