Homegame: An audiovisual dispatch

Slideshow: Homegame 2010 (opens in a new window)

Photos by Su Anderson
Audio recorded by Billy Hamilton

The Homegame diaries - Day 3, Sunday 14 March

Going by the rows of ghoulish faces that greet our arrival in Anstruther, day three at Homegame starts on a traditionally fragile note.

But, after a good night's kip, us early-to-bedders have more sprite in our step than a Berocca-snorting Sonic the Hedgehog and we vroom our way to the Hew Scott Hall to watch a new, delicate folk band called Findo Gask. Hang on, so this seated quartet who soothe pulsing craniums with piano, violin and trumpet are the same band who turned Legends into a forest of flailing limbs two nights ago? Apparently so, and in this pared-down, semi-acoustic set-up they really earn their musical stripes.

Next stop is the Erskine Hall to catch Adrian Crowley, who flutters out a ream of cushioning notes that are lapped up by the hurting hoards. Such charm-stained brilliance is a world away from the turgid ineptitude we face back at the Hew Scott. Hardsparrow may have gone heavy on the bevvy last night, but to forget the names, the lyrics and the chords of your own songs smacks of tragic amateurism. It’s probably slipped his mind that most folk paid £75 to get here.

Quickly ducking out of this cringing abomination, we break for a tantalising cheese and ham toastie down by the shore where we find some locals regaling tales of the Bluebells in their heyday. Back to the Erskine Hall, we catch the tail end of crackly toned Lisa O’Neill and sip on coffee awaiting Adem’s arrival with baited breath. Thankfully, he doesn’t disappoint.

Sultry of voice and genius of song, the Domino-signed tunesmith whisks away the minutes with an incandescent set. His stirring selection of laments, tinted with experimental asides, captivates even the most hyperactive kids and his final notes are met with a thunderous blast of stomping feet and slapping palms.

With James Yorkston still tied to his sickbed, we make hay for the Hew Scott to find The Pictish Trail orchestrating the crowd with a skitter of 30 second cuts. Sure, it's ramshackle fare, but Johnny Lynch’s engaging patter and ear for a song, no matter the length, sees it off as a roaring success that’s exactly what the wilting Anstruther masses ordered.

Splintering into two groups, one half of UtR makes its way back to Edinburgh in preparation for the working week. But before lighting the ignition we stumble across the brilliant Men Diamler pulling out all the stops during an impromptu street performance. Hollering to the sky like a sleep deprived Dickensian villain, the hyperactive troubadour mesmerises the ever-expanding mob before leading them inside the Town Hall with pied-piper aplomb.

It's a fantastic finale to our Homegame 2010. But for the last UtR hack standing there’s still more music to be heard ...

... While the less hardy journos speed back along the A92, the remaining UtR representative sticks it out. After nabbing Fence svengali Kenny Anderson for a chat about this year's Homegame in a rapidly darkening graveyard (more on his new King Creosote project later), there's just enough time to inhale another fish supper before heading to the Town Hall for arguably the weekend's most alluring clutch of acts.

After grinning through various sound problems (it seems Kev's bank of gadgets is just a bit too hi-fi for Homegame), Fence staples Found endear themselves with live favourite You're No Vincent Gallo (altered to Gummi Bako on this occasion) and set-closer Let Fidelity Break, which instigates the usual rash of shape-pulling down the front (at least, so it appears from the balcony at the back).

Having almost recovered from the haddock and potato binge, the arrival of Django Django warrants a closer, more involved position. The London band who formed at art school in Edinburgh fulfill their esoteric rep by turning up in safari-style khaki uniforms with skull-hugging, David Byrne hair. And the music is anything but staid, a heady mix of The Beta Band, Dick Dale and electro house. Shouldn't work but it does.

Underlining Fence's crossover mindset these days, Four Tet is the Sunday headliner, and arguably the biggest name on this year's billing. The in-demand Kieran Hebden wastes no time in rewarding his hosts' faith by crafting a set of nuanced electronica and thunderous house that sets heads nodding and, slowly but surely, bodies shaking. By the time he hits the summit of his laptronic masterclass the front section of the crowd is overtaken by the kind of hands-in-the-air evangelical rapture surely never before seen in the Town Hall of this hard-bitten fishing village.

And at that, UtR is all partied out. The more energetic Homegamers certainly aren't, spilling off towards the Smugglers Inn for more impromptu pub sessions or Legends for more beats'n'bleeps. Driving home along the dark back roads of the East Neuk, we're left to reflect on the fact that Fence have created something very special in a sleepy, overlooked part of Scotland, and it's all done for the love of music. In this age of profit margins and brand relationships, that's something to be celebrated.

Words: Billy Hamilton & Nick Mitchell Picture: Su Anderson

The Homegame diaries – Day 2, Saturday 13 March

There’s no two ways about it. We’re running pretty late.

Yesterday’s over-exertions in Anstruther have left us a little worse for wear, and negotiating the trail to Homegame doesn’t start till the rugby hoards have made their mark on the streets of Edinburgh.

So, of course, by the time we roll in at 4pm we’ve already missed Benni Hemm Hemm and Meursault whipping up an aural storm. But thank god we’ve still got James Yorkston. Or, maybe not.

On our arrival at Erskine Hall we’re politely informed the former Fence luminary has ‘called in sick’ – posh code for ‘he was bevvied last night and couldnae make it in due to his gnarling hangover’, no doubt. Fortunately, stand in pairing The Lone Pigeon and Pictish Trail are more than adequate replacements, dousing the crowd with a stream of delicately executed acoustic numbers.

The Erskine’s tangerine-splattered walls are a little too much for our pulsing craniums and, on the back of a tip from Team Skinny, we march on down to the Hew Scott Hall where Men Diamler is dishing out a plateful of quirky laments.

Striding through the crowd, acoustic guitar in hand, the corduroy-clad songsmith woos the audience with chirpy off-kilter cuts and a cloudbursting warble. The expletive-addled finale proves too much for younger punters, but for the rest of us it’s an archetypal Homegame moment that will live long in the memory.

By now our hangovers are receding quicker than Wayne Rooney's thatch and we attempt to finish them off with a quick trip to Anstruther harbour. With the sun setting and a cool sea breeze blowing through our barnets, we’re struck by the beauty of this tiny Fife village. The sad thing is, if it wasn’t for Homegame we’d probably never know it exists.

Poignant day trip moment ticked off, we make a beeline for the Town Hall where we catch Remember, Remember turning out a dreary post-rock symposium. One half of UtR is adamant the Glasgow outfit’s better than this, but tonight they're a paralysing bore until the cacophonous closing number invigorates our pulses. Sadly it's too little, too late and the damage is done.

Returning 80s legends The Bluebells are greeted with a hero’s welcome. But chomping through stodgy, jangle-friendly numbers like a pastiche of their former selves, there’s little sign of the sparkle that rocketed them chartwards during their ‘glory years’.

Young at Heart is the obvious standout and a sea of moment-catching mobile phones greets its epileptic violin strains. But the execution is lackadaisical and the group’s only bonafide classic is reeled out as tiredly as you’d expect of a band that’s strummed the same chords for over 25 years.

Accepting defeat in our attempts to stay off the ale, we retreat to our new favourite boozer, Saor Alba, where we’re met with a cockle-warming coal fire, the oddly familiar sirens of Casualty and a host of Central Belt scenesters. You just couldn't make this festival up.

Beer swilling in bellies, we find Meursault, Animal Magic Tricks and King Creosote setting up in a sardine squashed Hew Scott Hall. Sounding a little blunt, the telltale signs of tiredness creeps through the set and a wave of punters, including half of UtR, make their way to the Legends rave room to witness Silver Columns attacking ear-canals with ‘electro moroder disco sounds’. Whatever the hell that is.

For the rest of us, we’re done. Finding Team Skinny in need of a lift back to Auld Reekie, we make a beeline for the UtR mobile and set off on the trek home to bed. Tomorrow we’ll be in better shape, we promise.

Words: Billy Hamilton
Picture: Su Anderson

The Homegame diaries - Day 1, Friday 12 March

Popping our Homegame cherry shouldn’t be a big deal. After all, it’s only a music festival. And a small one at that. But there’s a definite churn in the pits of our stomachs as we navigate the trail that leads into the quaint Fife harbour town of Anstruther.

Perhaps our somersaulting nerves can be put down to the curvature of the roadway that confronts our dinky motor, but with a weekend of incessantly good, Fence-backed music ahead we suspect it’s something a little bit more.

Press passes in hand, we start the day drowning in a sea of corduroy-garbed folk eager to ingest the hallowed sound of Eagleowl. Although firmly lodged at the back of a packed out Hew Scott Hall, we’re able to confirm two things from the all too brief set: (1) Eagleowl know how to hush an audience. (2) There’s no better time for Bart Owl and co to forge a pathway into a wider music-appreciating sphere.

Trekking up to Anstruther’s Town Hall, we’re confronted with a dose of light-hearted tomfoolery from our master of ceremonies, Johnny Lynch, and KC himself, Kenny Anderson (much to our swooning photographer’s delight).

The lung-puncturing Mr Meursault, Neil Pennycook, kicks off proceedings with a spell-binding acoustic set that has jaws dropping floor-wards as he bellows out a short succession of psalms from new record ‘All Creatures Will Make Merry’.

Next up are London-based ensemble Player Piano who muddle rickety melodies with rock wig-outs that shudder the rafters of a, now bulging, venue. Coming across a lot like Tapes n’ Tapes without the cowbells, the quartet rummage through their closet of smarting, jaunty pop to pull out a sterling set teeming with vibrancy.

After refuelling with a somewhat underwhelming platter of fish ‘n’ chips, we’re back to catch Rozi Plain at the Town Hall. Despite her vibrant stage merriment, Plain’s armoury of light-weight nu-folk does little to galvanise our bloated bodies and flagging attention spans. Well, that’s until the appearance of a dancing on-stage toddler makes for the weekend’s most endearing spectacle.

Thankfully, the flour covered Withered Hand resuscitates us from our food-induced comas. Tooled up with a flush of buoyant Country-washed tunes, Dan Wilson and his star-studded cohorts rattle out cranky, melody fuelled cuts with a verve that’s been lacking in recent showings. Strolling off stage to a barricade of applause, Withered Hand are, without doubt, the defining moment of Homegame 2010 so far.

Having retreated in front of the fireplace of an olde tavern to sample some refined local ale (in reality we’re not sure a pint of Tennent’s could truly be considered local or refined), we make our way to Legends to see Findo Gask close out the opening day.

Inside, it’s a fuzzy picture of Phoenix Nights decor crossed with methadone clinic-like ambience. And, judging by the lunatic shapes being pulled on the dancefloor, you get the impression the over-enthusiastic punters are at home in this scorching asylsum.

By the time Findo Gask take to the stage the atmosphere’s rabid and the Glasgow-based-but-Fife-born quartet take their time to adapt to this frothing hovel. But once they’ve hit their stride, the scuzzy setting erupts as a gush of sweat and discobeat that’s so luminous it’s almost blinding. Finishing on a triumphant Va Va Va, the band bow their head and say goodnight, clearly overwhelmed by the rapture blowing their way.

For us, it’s a long drive on the road home. It’s times like these we wish we’d booked a room.

Words: Billy Hamilton
Picture: Su Anderson

Festivals, mini-fests, multi-band spectacles...

It seems promoters in Scotland are becoming more ambitious. No longer satisfied with their monthly meat 'n' two veg nights of one/two/three bands, many are staging more imaginative formats and more expansive line-ups.

This weekend sees no less than four such events dominate Scotland's two big cities...

• Firstly, a daring one-off live music and arts event will take up residence in the capital, when Hidden Door marks the start of a new era at the Roxy Art House (formerly home to The Bowery). It will play host to around 40 bands, 50 artists, as well as a programme of short films and poetry.

The event was the subject of a feature in today's Scotsman, in which new Roxy artistic director Rupert Thomson (pictured) said his ambition is "to create an internationally recognised arts centre in Edinburgh". So why not pay a visit this weekend to see if the venture lives up to the hype?

• The second Sick Kids Sunday also takes place this weekend in the capital. The GRV will play host to a superb array of talent, including Meursault, James Yorkston (playing the songs of Daniel Johnson) and Sparrow and the Workshop. It's all for a vital and local cause, and with tickets at just £8 in advance, it should be a satisfying way to spend your Sunday.

• Hold on you Glasgow folks, don't leave yet. Would you really not want to know about the Chemikal Underground 15th anniversary event at Celtic Connections on Sunday at the ABC? Celebrate your city's finest record label with music from The Phantom Band, Aidan Moffat, Emma Pollock, Zoey Van Goey, Bill Wells and the debut outing of ex-Aereogramme duo The Unwinding Hours.

• On Saturday afternoon, the more folk-inclined among you can sit back, relax, sip a green tea or whatever beverage comes to hand, and listen to the mellow sounds of Pearl and the Puppets, Findlay Napier, Brother Louis Collective and Kitty the Lion at Hazy Recollections. It's at Stereo from 2.30pm.

• Last but not least, have you seen the line-up for the Fence Homegame yet? It looks amazing, but if you haven't got your ticket you'll need to rely on returns - they sold out in a matter of hours. Full line-up here.

So plenty of ambition from Scotland's music programmers. If only the bulk of it wasn't happening on one weekend...

Words: Nick Mitchell