Robyn Writes

The Frank Experience [Frank Turner, O2 Academy Birmingham, 24/11/11]

I have seen Frank Turner play over five times now. I’ve seen him with a hundred other people, I’ve seen him with about twenty thousand people. Every time I’ve ever reviewed him, I’ve never had a bad thing to say. I still don’t. It’s impossible to give this show a proper review without repeating myself, so I’m just going to tell it straight. I’m going to tell you about The Frank Experience.

We got there way later than I had planned. Two of my friends forgot their tickets, so we dealt with that, stood in the doorway of the Bullring and pissing everyone off. As it turns out, you CAN just waltz in with a barcode number, but I didn’t care about that. I was a bit tense. Not only was Frank playing, but Against Me! were in town. If you’ve never seen Against Me! play live, you’re missing out. But we’ll get to that later. I had been planning on getting right to the front for that set, so we hurried on to the venue, did the obligatory Snapbooth pic and got into the crowd.

First of all, this was the weirdest crowd I had encountered in a long time. Weirder than the last Gaslight Anthem show I went to. I was surrounded by forty year old middle class women with their husbands and kids, chavs, indie girls and hipster guys. The last time I saw Frank headline, I was surrounded by sweaty punks with checked shirts and lumberjack beards. The last time I saw Against Me!, it was pretty much the same. “Excuse me, are you going to be stood there for the whole thing?” a well-to-do woman asked me as I tried to push forward to the front, sipping on her rose wine. “Nah, I just want to see this set. One of my favourite bands. Do you like punk?” She looked rather unamused by the whole endeavour. I turned around, ignored her, fended off some people who were trying to get past me, and waited for the band to come on.

Tonight was not a good night for Against Me!. Although Tom battled bravely with his throat (some tea made an appearance in the background halfway through the set), you could tell he was wrecked. The band also battled bravely with the crowd, who didn’t seem to care at all. From where I was stood, I could see about two people who were into it. I’m presuming a couple more over the other side of the stage. Usually, when I see Against Me! play, I’m surrounded by people who adore them, much like myself, and we sing as loud as we can, dance as hard as we can. There’s nothing quite like being linked arm in arm with guys who have more tattoo than skin and belting out Baby, I’m An Anarchist. But regardless, it was the first time I’d seen them with Jay behind the drums and they’re better than ever. One of the best setlists I’ve ever seen them play – Turn Those Clapping Hands Into Angry Balled Fists was a personal highlight – and an absolutely insane performance. They tried really hard with the audience they had. But one thing was clear – they were all here to see Frank and nobody else.

So when Frank came on and broke into Eulogy, the entire place erupted. I had relinquished my place on the barrier in order to find my friends. Admittedly I could barely see a thing, but I didn’t care as long as I was with my friends. Who would I be able to tell my story with when I end up in hell if not them? Even though I’d gone to find them, I barely realised they were there. It was clear to me then that Frank no longer needed my admiration – he had the admiration of the nation right there. The band burst into Try This At Home, and I realised that half of these people here tonight probably knew nothing about punk rock and how it makes such a difference in your outlook, in your life. But right then, it didn’t matter. Because they cared about something, they cared about it enough to stamp their feet and shake their bodies in time to the music. I thought back to the train station – a few guys from my uni were there on their way to the show. Too hip to talk to the likes of me, I wondered if they too had lost their nicotine cool and were going as mental as everyone else.

The Road is such a powerful song. It’s not something we can all relate to, though. Frank yells out at the start, that if you know the words to anything, you have to sing along. So, I look around me and almost the entire room is belting it back to him. My friend Mike can’t sing, and he has the loudest voice of all. It makes me grin, because he’s having a good time and doesn’t care about anyone else. I sing too, but I have classical training and am at least in tune. I always feel self conscious at gigs – are people going to look at me when I sing, try and decipher where the racket’s coming from? But nobody ever cares – they’re too busy doing it themselves. If Ever I Stray gets the band going in full force and an even louder singalong; there’s a lot of the ‘new’ crowd here tonight. But as soon as Frank breaks into Reasons Not To Be An Idiot, the whole room explodes. It’s the ultimate feelgood song, and so quintessentially British. Every time I’m moping around in the house, I put that on and I go outside. I think of home – it’s been a while since I’ve been back. I still can’t see a lot of the stage.

I Am Disappeared, although similar to The Road to its content, is something more relatable. I take a peek to the side. My friend Kari is singing with all his heart, fists raised. That middle section, that one line – “And come morning, I am disappeared” – runs shivers down my spine. It feels liberating, which is essentially how the entire evening feels. I give up my impartial journalistic tendencies, which only happens for the rarest of performers, and I am liberated. Love, Ire And Song, the title track to the first Frank album I ever bought, becomes even more rousing in the O2 Academy than I’ve ever heard it before. Polaroid Picture, a new song, is a total rock anthem. This is the first tour where The Sleeping Souls have been put on the main event title and their importance in Frank’s sound is now completely apparent. It’s a great song, but the minute it’s over and Wessex Boy starts, it’s almost completely forgotten. Wessex Boy appeals to the ‘new’ crowd, I guess. Although Frank’s lyrics have always been fairly focused on Britain, England Keep My Bones is as patriotic as you can get. Wessex Boy, in particular, is all about your hometown. I hate my hometown at this point in time and I don’t remember the place I was born all too well, but Wessex Boy makes me miss them both.

Nights Become Days is accompanied by Emily Barker and the Red Clay Halo. The raucous singing lessens a bit, even though everyone still knows the words. In particular, the couple in front of me are holding hands and singing, occasionally glancing at each other and smiling. I remember the first time I saw Frank, and a few more. I was with an ex. We never shared a moment like that, but even so, I think back to those shows. But the emotions don’t come flooding back. I know that the real test will be the Brand New show in February, but right now, I know that I am not in love with anything but the string section and that’s perfectly fine with me.

Frank confesses that he doesn’t really remember the words to the next song and had to Google them earlier. Must Try Harder was always a song I skipped on Sleep Is For The Week. Not that it was bad, but it was almost at The Ballad Of Me And My Friends so inevitably, off it went. Frank doesn’t do too bad a job for not remembering the words though. And then, we’re back in our element as I Knew Prufrock Before He Was Famous gets played. All I could think throughout this song was that my sister should be there. I’ve been to about 75% of the Frank Turner sets I’ve been to with my sister. She’s probably one of those indie girls I mentioned earlier (my housemate declares her as “Topshop”), but she’s got the most incredible wit. Nobody makes me laugh more than my sister. She wants lyrics from Prufrock tattooed on her. She hasn’t done it yet, but no doubt when she does, I’ll be there and I’ll be taking her to Modern Body Art. My mum will probably love it because it’ll be feminine and beautiful, whereas my AFI nephilim is just “cute, but were you sure you wanted that for life?” What Mum doesn’t get is that AFI are my INXS, my Bon Jovi. AFI, and punk in general, led me to make the life decisions that got me into a top class university, to start writing, to be who I am and not give a damn what everyone else thinks I should be. I don’t know if that’s how my sister feels about Frank Turner, but if she can remind herself that life is about love, last minutes and lost evenings, then I think she’ll be doing just fine.

Sons Of Liberty seems so relevant now, so much more than ever before. The Occupy movement is one of the biggest political statements we’ve seen in such a long time. It’s not quite coherent enough for my taste, not yet, but Sons Of Liberty seems so appropriate. For the first time in ages, it’s accompanied by the proper violin, courtesy of the Red Clay Halo. I sort of missed Frank’s guitar substitute, but I stood together with my brothers and sisters. I felt like I should be doing more. I always feel like I should be doing more. Punk rock shouldn’t be sitting around waiting for the lights to go green. It should be barrelling through red and asking why the fuck not. (As it stands, I’m writing this on the day of the civil strikes. My mum’s striking today, visiting my sister while I type in my sickbed.) This is the year of discontent, let alone the summer, and it is marked well here tonight. One Foot Before The Other gets fists equally raised. Will Frank be our legacy? Will we be playing his records to our children, telling them that this is what inspired us to keep going? I probably will be, alongside reading them Black Coffee Blues before bed.

Peggy Sang The Blues always makes me smile. This is one that me and my sister belt out in the car. “No one gets remembered, for the things they didn’t do” is a line that resonates so much with me. I’m young and optimistic still, for the most part, so I sing every word as loud as I can, but as I’ve got a bit of a sore throat, it actually comes out with that much desired folk punk drawl. The couple in front of me are still singing to each other. Frank introduces Glory Hallelujah as a hymn, and truthfully, as I look around, it wouldn’t surprise me if someone were to call this “The Church of Frank Turner”. The faithful congregation dance and sing in a fashion the Church of England probably wouldn’t approve of. When the album first came out, Kari picked up on the atheistic content of it on our radio show, but it doesn’t seem to stop anyone here having a great time, regardless of belief. There’s a great feeling of community, and I don’t regret leaving my barrier position one iota.

Long Live The Queen is one of my favourite Frank songs, so I’m always really pleased to hear it played live. This was a fully rocked up version, and despite the fact that it’s so sad, it’s also so uplifting. It reminds me that I should be living while I can. So we dance, and we dance for all those who have left. We still believe. Frank reminds us, before he breaks into I Still Believe, that music brought us all together tonight and that it’s a powerful tool, and we should never forget that. I Still Believe is another of my favourite Frank songs, summing up everything I feel about punk, about rock, about music in general. It’s got some bloody great potential for gang vocals as well. And finally, he puts down the guitar and picks up the microphone and does a cover of Somebody To Love. Much like at Reading Festival, in the Lock Up stage, I realise that Frank is every inch the rockstar now, albeit a highly unconventional one. He’s fast becoming a well loved British institution, like Freddie was. And he’s got a brilliant voice as well!

The band and Frank disappear off the stage. The crowd whip up a frenzy, chanting “we want more, we want more!” I don’t join in. There’s two songs I know he hasn’t played yet and two songs I know he won’t leave us without. Frank comes back alone, guitar in hand. He plays us a new song, Cowboy Chords, and then The Ballad Of Me And My Friends. The entire room bellows it back at him, especially the last line. Tonight will be one of those stories we’ll have to tell. Two of my friends have disappeared and I don’t know why. But I remain with the friends who are there. We look at each other knowingly and scream it out – “We’re definitely going to hell, but we’ll have all the best stories to tell!”

The band come back on, and I know exactly what’s coming next. Photosynthesis. My friend Chris comes bounding over and grabs me by the waist on one side, Kari on the other side, and it’s one of those moments that only comes around a few times in a lifetime. Frank pauses in the middle of the song and we think we know what’s coming. We get prepared to sit down and jump up again, but capacity won’t allow it. Instead, two enormous confetti cannons let loose a stream of pink glory. It drops into my handbag and to places I didn’t think it could go. Indeed, when I get home and get undressed, about five or six strips fall from my bra alone. The gig ends and we walk back to the train station, sweaty and buzzing. We run through the streets like nobody else is there, trying to put into words what we just saw. And these ones are mine.

It is very clear that Frank no longer needs my admiration. But he will have it, always and forever.

Octane OK – O2 Academy Birmingham 2, 1/11/11

It’s safe to say that Octane OK are moving along at a positively astronomical rate. It was just over a year ago that we saw them open for Kill Hannah in the very same room that they played in last night, and here they are with a headline slot. The ‘So Alive’ tour is their biggest one yet, with several dates sold out all over the country. But here’s the question – are Octane OK worth all the hype?

After a guest list debacle and some new found friends, we found ourselves halfway through Escaping Vendetta‘s set. The highlight of their set was a fantastic cover of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, but sadly, their own material was lacking. It’s not like either component – the vocals and the music – are bad, as proven by the cover. However, they’re not writing songs that compliment each other and as a result, their current output is a bit like a mediocre car crash, the sort that entails a light bump to the wing mirror – just not worth the hassle.

Following them were Nine Day Lane. While the band showed a hell of a lot of potential, it was clear that they needed a lot more practise. However, I guess a few more support slots in a venue like that will give them the perfect opportunity! In particular, their vocalist slipped a fair bit with his guitar – transitions weren’t as smooth as they should have been, breakdowns weren’t as tight as they could have been, but I think a fair amount of that was attributed to playing and singing at the same time. It’s certainly something I struggle with at times. I’d like to see them again in a few months and see if they’ve tightened up a bit, as their big sounding pop-punk anthems could be potentially very awesome.

No Lights At Lockdown looked like they’d had a Topshop spending spree this weekend. The band looked far more like a boyband than a credible rock band. Nearly every band tonight was firmly rooted in sweeping pop-punk tunes and No Lights At Lockdown were no different. However, No Lights At Lockdown were a bit tepid in comparison. The band are very well practised, but there’s no depth to it. So maybe the boyband comparison is more relevant than first impressions dictate. While there was technically nothing wrong with what they were doing, it wasn’t quite up to par with their tourmates’ output. Nothing really stood out in their set. Nice background music, though. Maybe it’d work well on a British teen soap or something.

Dublin’s very own Jody Has A Hitlist were the proverbial breath of fresh air tonight. From their highly tongue in cheek merchandise to their on stage nipple banter, they weren’t playing by the rules and it’s bloody wonderful to see. Despite being beleaguered with keyboard issues (ie the levels were horrendous and we heard no keys until the last three songs), they sounded fantastic. While most of the acts last night were very saccharine, very upbeat, Jody Has A Hitlist occasionally take a darker turn, with some great breakdowns and collaborative vocals. One of Lava’s favourites in the brief time the channel was running, Jody Has A Hitlist are going to go far. Just keep watching.

And finally, after a mammoth support roster, Octane OK themselves took to the stage. It’s very clear that they are no longer the same band that tentatively stepped onto the Academy stage all those months ago. The songs are tighter, without losing their incredibly catchy edge. The performance is more energetic and far more interactive, now that they have such a dedicated fan base. The entire band effortlessly ooze rockstar cool, even though there’s far less v-necks on display this time around. It’s also clear to see that the band have worked incredibly hard to get to where they are and to perfect their performance – everything went off without a hitch, and while that was the case last year, they looked so much more in command. And they’re a lot of fun! Octane OK’s particular brand of pop-punk works so well live; it gets people off their feet and having a great time. The new electronic touches add a layer of depth to the music that weren’t there, and although it’s hardly Year Zero, it’s definitely an interesting addition. Octane OK were nominated for the Kerrang! Best British Newcomer award this year, and although they lost out in the end, tonight’s show proves that they are definitely worthy of that title. And I never liked Asking Alexandria anyway.

We Are Fiction – Prince of Wales Leamington Spa, 14/10/11

The Prince of Wales in Leamington is a charming “pub lounge” at the end of Warwick Street. It’s got kooky decorations (including a very weird lampshade with naked Barbies attached to it), comfortable and stylish seating and a nice little conservatory space at the back. This space regularly gets overtaken with rowdy bands. Tonight was We Are Fiction’s turn.

Rewards and Revenge were support for this show. They were alright. Well, okay, they were more than alright, but they were also pretty much just a covers band. If they had any of their own songs, they blended so much into the covers material that they were doing that it was just unnoticeable. There were indeed a lot of fun covers – a bit of Blitzkrieg Bop, I Fought The Law and Kick Out The Jams went down very well – but ultimately, they borrowed too much of the 70s and 80s and didn’t bring their own twist to it. However, they were perfectly accomplished with a clear talent for performing. Perhaps in time, they’ll come to find their own sound and no doubt when they do, it’ll be pretty impressive.

We Are Fiction… oh my. At the beginning of the set, vocalist Phil warned everyone to keep back because they like to move and my gosh, do they. The band have so much energy and were thrashing about on the floor and jumping off unstable sideboards like there was no tomorrow. They played an average length set – about 40 minutes – but looked as if they could have played all night, which is actually awesome because it’s great to see a band really loving what they do. They played a mixture of old and new songs (which were thankfully described in the right way – although I have listened to the band before and enjoyed them on record, I’m not totally up to date with it all) which went down well. Finishing on old favourite Sail On was a great move as the crowd had microphones shoved in their face and Chris tried to sing in tune. Bless. The dynamics between members were fantastic – the dual vocalist approach that everyone’s after these days has been perfected in We Are Fiction, with Phil’s rasping scream being perfectly countered by Marc’s impassioned clean vocals. The band are really together, no doubt aided by Tom’s incredible drumming; dubstep beats? No problem. But most importantly, We Are Fiction are so much fun – they banter, they throw themselves into each other while remaining perfectly on task and they rule. Simple as.

The US has its own particular brand of post-hardcore coming out at the moment, with bands such as letlive., Touche Amore and Tiger’s Jaw all contributing to “The Wave”. Britain certainly has its rival wave, in bands like Deaf Havana, Lower Than Atlantis and of course, We Are Fiction. It’s difficult to determine whether we or our American friends have the better scene at the moment, but at the very least, We Are Fiction are at the forefront of ours and they deserve all the accolades you can throw at them. That was probably one of the best performances I’ve seen all year. Make sure you don’t miss them when they hit up your town.

The Headstart – The Plug, Birmingham, 25/09/11

A Sunday night in Birmingham couldn’t really get much better. It was a beautiful night, more reminiscent of summer than of autumn, there was some crazy Irish folk coming from the pub next to the venue and a lot of extremely happy looking teenage girls milling about outside The Plug. The Irish folk was tempting, and you can probably hear it on the interview video we did with the band before the show, but we weren’t there for that. We were there for a night of pure pop-punk pleasure with the fellows from The Headstart as they embarked on a headlining tour entitled “It’s Gonna Get Messy”. According to the naked Facebook pictures, it had been getting pretty messy all around the country, but was Birmingham going to shape up to that awesome reputation?

The first band on for Kitteh and I (we arrived slightly late due to camera drop-offs), who I must deduce as Every Inch A King – they mumbled their name – showed miles of promise. Obviously a very young band, they combined some interesting synth work and programming with their sound. Their sound was, however, all over the place. The boys need to sit down and do some serious genre figuring out – was it post-hardcore? Enter Shikari-style trancecore? Pop-punk? Who knew? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with taking a lot of different styles and blending them together in your own way, but there has to be some consistency, which they were sadly lacking. For a relatively new band on the scene, they were pretty tight, although a few slips from the vocalist regarding timing were spotted here and there, but I attributed that mostly to nerves. Also, Chris Martin called and wants his hand movements back! But in all seriousness, give these guys a few years, a few tattoos and no doubt they’ll have completely got it together.

Follow You Home, to be quite honest, were a disgrace. Their music was okay and they were clearly quite well practised together, but the amount of ripped off riffs and vocal lines we heard in their songs was abysmal. In just one song, there was the exact same riff from A’s Nothing in their breakdown, a line from a Framing Hanley song and a very similar, in fact too similar, sequence to Sum 41’s Still Waiting. Having influences is one thing, but taking those influences and claiming them as your own is just wrong, especially when said influences are still in the public memory. A really weren’t that long ago! Their lead singer had absolutely no power behind her voice, leaving her as just another Hayley Williams wannabe in a very difficult scene to crack. They were confident, no doubt, but nothing stood out in their songs until it was a riff that wasn’t entirely their own. The band were getting a fair amount of media attention from Lava TV and got to the top five in Kerrang’s Slam Dunk competition, but it’s just like a majority of the bands in the British scene right now – rip offs of American favourites who will get by on image alone. Which is sad, really.

Chasing Skylines, local Birmingham lads, were a great improvement upon the band before them. Half pop-punk, half classic rock, they powered through a reasonably pleasing set. It wasn’t the most exciting of sets, but the band were pretty tight. One downside was that for all the singer’s theatrics and decent stage presence, his vocals sadly suffered, with his breathing all over the place and a pretty weak effort coming out of his mouth. There were also a lot of unnecessary moshpits invoked – it’s not the sort of music you want to punch someone in the face too, it’s far too light. But anyway, they were fun to watch though and are definitely worth checking out if you’re a fan of Don Broco.

The Headstart, the main event, were utterly fantastic. In fact, I felt so sorry that they weren’t getting the love they deserved. They have some really dedicated fans, but not a lot of those seem to be from Birmingham – the majority of the audience left with the support bands and the rest stood stock still, which is not what the boys deserved at all. Despite having only released a single EP so far, their songs are inspiring, extraordinarily well put together and contain a certain hint of nostalgia for the true days of pop-punk while being totally original at the same time, which is a quality that definitely shows through live. The band have so much energy and invest so much in their performance, as well as their interaction with the audience. I suspect on a different night, there might have been some more banter, but the crowd just weren’t responding. Truly, it’s the little things that make their performance – their cheeky banter, the sly ‘I <3 Kyle' on the back of Gaz's guitar, the wary little jumps on a very unstable stage (followed by a big 'ah fuck it' one) amongst other highlights. Their dedication to their fans is also really sweet - they stayed to chat and sign stuff and take photos for a fair while after the set. It's awesome to see such a positive attitude; despite the venue change to the relatively tiny Plug (in comparison to the shiny new HMV Institute), the band made the best of everything and gave it their all. It might not have been the NIA, but just give it some time and hopefully The Headstart will start getting the attention they so completely deserve. I can't wait for the debut album and resulting tour; maybe that one might end up a bit messier than that Sunday night in Birmingham.

Reading Festival 2011 – Sunday

I started off the day with a bit of Popcorn Comedy (impossible to rate, too many shorts!), a variety of comedy film shorts and live performances. Of particular note was the Buttery Biscuit Base song, a cat that smeared poo on its owner’s wall to stop her from having a date and Carly Spellman’s song about her brother. And the one dedicated to Simon. You really had to be there for that one. The first main stage act I headed for was Taking Back Sunday (2.5/5), who I was particularly excited for considering their return to their original lineup. I am a big John Nolan fan. And I can tell you that he didn’t disappoint. TBS may be older and wiser, but he’s still got that raw emotion in his voice that made Tell All Your Friends. Adam Lazzara, on the other hand, was probably on something. The songs were fine, they were great even, and they rolled through all the classics, including the stuff that they’d written in the absence of John and co, but Adam was extremely overwhelming. I’ve seen Taking Back Sunday before, I know that he’s a bit of a character. But this was something else, and I honestly felt uncomfortable watching it. A good job that Frank Turner (4.5/5) came along to save the day! Frank’s first time on the main stage and he was positively glowing. The sun came out, the crowd sang along and I lost my voice. Frank and the Sleeping Souls chose their set very carefully, resulting in thousands of voices being hurled back at them. There really is no performer like Frank Turner. The soothing voice, the snappy dress, he’s got us in the palm of his hand. He oozes charisma, but moreso than that, his songs truly connect with so many people. The ‘I won’t sit down’ bit in Photosynthesis is always worth a laugh (essentially he gets everyone to sit down and jump up at a certain point in the song) and with less crush than in the NME tent last year, it actually worked! He’s touring in November, go and see him if you’ve got any sense.

Fast forward a bit to Bedouin Soundclash (3/5). By this point, the clouds had kicked back in, so their brand of reggae/ska managed to cheer everyone up. The tent was filled with people who’d heard that song on the T-mobile advert and not a lot else, but everyone was dancing. It’s happy music, chilled out and made a change from the hardcore being played earlier in the day (I did catch a bit of Off! but it was pretty dire and I wasn’t paying that much attention, so I’m virtually disregarding it). Hot Water Music (4/5) wowed us all. A great return for the band, they played a veritable aural feast from their ‘punk’ catalogue (no Fuel For The Hate Game love?). In fact, I’m surprised that the tent wasn’t as full as it was. Hot Water Music know what it’s all about, and the cover of True Believers at the end where all of their friends came on to join in was inspiring. The whole set was inspiring, really. If I can be as half an accomplished musician as any of them, I’ll be happy with my life. Face To Face followed them, but I didn’t really catch that much of it. What I did catch sounded pretty good though. My apologies to soufex for not seeing one of her faves!

Frank Turner (5/5) played a second set in the Lock Up, which topped his first one by miles, if that was even truly possible. There was admittedly some repetition from earlier, as he played The Road again, but in a much more intimate setting, it was far more involving than before. However, the true highlight of the set was Frank’s cover of Queen’s Somebody To Love, where he ditched the guitar and picked up the mic for an incredible rendition. Screw Glee, Frank Turner is where it’s at! Oh, and The Ballad Of Me And My Friends never ever gets old. As Frank says, “I’m definitely going to hell, but I’ll have all the best stories to tell” and that set can definitely be included amongst the best stories we have to tell. I’m really struggling to write comprehensively at this point, because my brain is just going “AJGDJHFF SO AWESOME” and I think that if a set can reduce me to some kind of babbling mess, it’s got to be worth it, right?

Flogging Molly (5/5) in comparison turned me into some kind of dancing machine. A friend of mine had come for the day and was meant to be watching Muse with his friends, but turned to me and said “I CANNOT LEAVE THIS RIGHT NOW!” To be perfectly honest, it was the most fun I’d had all weekend. Flogging Molly are not one of those bands I’d choose to listen to in the privacy of my own room, not really. They’ve got some great songs and I’m sure there’s some real gems out there, but in a way, I’ve always thought it was too gimmicky. I’m very happy to say I think I’ve been proven wrong. There was a phenomenal atmosphere in the room; everyone was dancing, cheering, clapping, singing… drink was flowing and people who didn’t even know each other were linking arms and dancing with each other. All in all, I think that was a great success. So much so, that Descendents (4.5/5), although they were amazing in their own way, just missed out in topping the list over Frank and Flogging Molly. They may be all grown up now, but they’ve still got it. It was a dream come true to be able to see them, as they covered a huge range of songs from their back catalogue. They clearly love what they do and the on stage banter was hugely entertaining, as well as their choice from a few of the jokier songs in their repertoire (Coffee Mug, anyone?). Milo is a great hero of mine for many reasons, and the true highlight of their set for me was having a mic thrust in my face and singing a line. Punk rock ambition number 12 achieved! The songs sound just as good as on record, even better perhaps as Stephen Egerton takes it up a notch. So the weekend ended on a high, as I got to see one of my favourite bands who I’ll probably never get the opportunity to see again and completely disregarded Muse because I’m a total rebel. This year, Reading rocked.