End of the Road 2021: an honest perspective on a great festival

A perfectly sized and well-catered for festival

Festival-veteran John Bownas writes… (brilliant photos by Sara Bowrey as ever).

Before a run-down on some of the musical highs (and near-misses) here’s a quick run-down about the festival as a whole for those of you who are thinking of going in future years.

And for the record, we’d recommend you get your tickets now, because the format, site, and general vibe strike all the right notes (and I’ve been reviewing festivals for well over 20 years now, so believe me, if I wouldn’t go back I’d tell you straight up!)

Size-wise End of the Road hits a really nice sweet-spot, and seems to have perfect combination of ticket-holders, stages, and facilities. Everything feels busy, but nothing feels overcrowded.

FACES IN THE CROWD – did we snap you around the site?

I didn’t go to a single set that had a sparse crowd, toilets rarely had long queues, and the number of food vendors and bars appeared a great match for demand. The only comment would be that maybe a few of the food stalls might look to do a breakfast menu, as that was the only tine we really saw any significant waits for service.

Some of our favourite food vendors were in attendance, and the selection of beers at the bars was great. Again, one comment here would be that I’d have liked to have seen one or two more ales in the 4.5-5.2% spectrum. There were tonnes of sub-4.2% offerings, and one lethal 6%+ IPA that nearly tripped me up, but a good choice of brews with that mid-top range of body would have been welcomed.

Beyond music, food and beer, End of the Road appreciates that people like a bit more variety in their festival lives, so there was a healthy dollop of literature and comedy-based entertainment in the programme, and a woodland stroll through a plethora of art installations was well worth the meander. Kids were reasonably well catered for, but whilst family-friendly, this isn’t a Camp Bestival gig… children are welcome and can be kept amused, but they aren’t at the heart of the matter.

What about the toilets I hear you cry? Well, as I said, there were plenty. And they were CLEAN! At least all the ones I tried. Of course bring your own bog-roll…but that goes without saying at any festival except the poshest of the posh…

Oh – but back to the music. Because this is the important bit. End of the Road is a musically focused festival that puts careful curation at the heart of what it does. Not everything will be to your taste, but there is a wide spectrum catered for, and whilst ‘big household names’ don’t dominate you can expect a lot of the bands who play here to be ‘next big things’ in coming years. So open your ears and dive on in.

(Oh – but take cash… the online payment systems were flakey at best due to little or no 4G signal or WiFi on site. So ensure you have all your e-mails and social media affairs up to date before arrival!)

MUSICAL HIGHS AND LOWS

Mainly highs – but some perhaps surprising sets that just didn’t quite sparkle as they should have done.

Vanishing Twin: ‘oh look mum, I’ve got mics on all the drums and a big PA!’ (said an excitedly eager sound engineer). This is, however, no excuse for drowning the vocals … and adding insult to injury by swamping said vocals with unnecessarily emphasised reverb effects. The result … an un-engaging and instantly forgettable bowl of audio-porridge. However, given the size of the audience my guess is the studio versions of these songs may my more comprehensible – I think fans were hearing what they wanted to hear rather than the actual live audio… so once I’m back in the land of the interweb I’ll give Vanishing Twin another try on Spotify (other streaming platforms are available).

[Footnote: the live sound and the recorded material are indeed like chalk and cheese. Such a shame as I’d have loved to have sat through something closer to the studio tracks I’m listening to now from the comfort of home.]

Teleman: drawn in from afar by intelligent bass-lines and guitars that turned unexpected corners I was delighted by Teleman. The BBC6 Music darlings definitely deserved their early evening main stage slot and were a defining moment on a hot and humid opening day at End of the Road.

Wesley Gonzalez: billed as a pop-tastic soul-brother version of Mark E  Smith, Wesley Gonzalez draws inspiration from both the bright lights of Top of the Pops circa 2000 and the dark dungeons from whence Baxter Dury drags up his lyrics. A late start in the Tipi Tent is a blessing in disguise as it means I get to see the majority of the set as well as having just had the privilege of a big chunk of Teleman.

Kelley Forsythe: cradling the microphone in the crook of her arm and lamenting in the style of Leonard Cohen if he’d been brought up in a Scottish fishing hut in the outer Hebrides… Nonchalantly confident as she gazes at her shoes, the back wall, anything but the audience. It’s as if we aren’t here… and then it’s as if we are in a Parisian backstreet speakeasy in pre-war France…

Damon Albarn: photographers were inexplicably banned from this one for some reason. So no idea where we obtained these surreptitiously sneaky snaps from… We all love Damon. Well everyone except the nice police officer who called me mid-gig about an unassociated matter – and not only didn’t know him, but had never heard of Blur. What do they say about the police getting younger every year??  Anyway, as Mr A said, “Talking about music is a f@cking road to nowhere.” And so is writing about it! So I’ll refrain from saying that despite this being pretty much a Gorilaz gig from the point of view of band members, there just weren’t enough memorable songs to keep a main stage festival audience engaged… and the natter volume from the chattering classes rapidly drowned out Damon’s best efforts to hold our attention.

Arlo Parks: I’m not sure if everyone else these days sounds like Arlo Parks or whether Arlo Parks sounds like everyone else? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Fundamentally this is great music – but there is just so much of it around these days that for any song to stand out it needs a real point of difference. Musicians and songwriters seem to have lost the art of the ‘hook’.  Learn how to nail that intro so it couldn’t be any other song in the first two seconds. Find that guitar or keyboard part that has never been done before. Go on. I dare you.

Trash Kit: basking in the glory and enjoying every minute. The pastel choir swing and sway and crank out some ace multiple harmonies.  There’s energy and passion in equal measure…. But there are times when the energy levels drift. At its height this is Paul Simon’s Graceland. When it dips, it just isn’t… but it’s still OK by me…especially if it’s in a weird time signature… dance dance dance….

Hot Chip: the hardy perennials of the live EDM scene, Hot Chip  simply live in the middle of a groove that won’t be stopped. Although they may hate me for this, I really do believe their roots sometimes sit firmly in the fertile soil of Level 42.  That bass thing they do has Mark King’s signature written all over it!! This. Is. A. Compliment. But then comes a synth-driven masterwork and we are into new territory. Viva la difference!

John Grant: possibly over-produced in this big, live bowl, there was a thing going on with John Grant where if you did that folk-trick and pushed your fingers into your  ears ‘just so’ you could hear every word and nuance as clear as a crystal bell. Down the front everyone seemed transfixed and static. Where I was at the back, near the sweet-spot at the sound desk, there was a groovy little party for one going on… sweet!!!

Warm Douche: on Saturday morning, as I walked the camping fields, I heard loads of conversations citing Warm Douche as many people’s highlight of Friday night at End of the Road. In reality it will be hard for anyone to top their supremely masterful headline set in the Big Top. With a bullseye blend of excellent songs and tremendous stage presence, this is a band who you’ll want to go back to see time after time. I’d love to see a new ‘scene’ emerge around acts like this …  I’d throw in Dry Cleaning, Squid, and Sports Team to the mix for starters … and maybe Baxter Dury too – not sure what to call it though. Answers on a postcard please…

Kiran Leonard: folk sensibilities with an esoteric line-up and some wilfully discordant harmonies, this would have been a bit of a surprise for anyone expecting the thrash metal of Lee Patterson – who had been due to open the big top but had been swapped with Kiran at the last minute. An interesting stage set-up with some good instrument choices saw Kiran playing dual roles of guitarist and conductor from far stage right, whilst delivering some challenging songs that definitely have critical merit, although will be filed under the heading of ‘acquired taste’. Enter with an open mind.

Pozi: with influences stretching way back beyond their years, Pozi are post-something, that’s for sure… I’m just not sure post-what that might be. The programme blurb references Devo and Television, but there are tonnes of other predecessors clamouring for attention. What’s great though is that nothing sounds derivative… it’s all fresh, new, and clean… just the way we like it. And I think I’ve just found another trio to add to that list of contemporary bands who should form a new scene.

Umlaut: this ten-piece Kraut-rock outfit is playing only their fourth ever gig… and it’s a heavy-duty affair! Possibly a bit much for an early-afternoon slot, as Umlaut are maybe more suited to late-night revellers. However, at least in the dark confines of the Big Top, the crowd (and it’s a pretty big one) can suspend disbelief and imagine themselves a lot further away from that late breakfast that helped them recover from last night’s excess. My advice is to catch Umlaut live as soon as you can, because it’s a great experience… but ten-piece bands struggle to hold it together given the precarious economics of the live music industry.

Lazarus Kane: whilst standing in the long snaking queue to the Tipi Stage I couldn’t help but pigeon-hole Lazarus Kane as a Talking Heads meets The Blood Arm type band. Spike -filled and angular songs constructed with aggressive humour. Once inside I was impressed by a band that lived up to all expectations. They take retro to a whole new level… be that the 1980s Liverpool FC mullets or the musical influences that echo down the backstage corridors of legendary venues across two continents. Funky and punky in equal measure, they are about to take a break, but watch out for their return!

Squid: did Squid have the largest crowd of the weekend? The queues into the Garden stage throughout their gig would seem to point to that being a fact. But don’t believe everything you read on the internet. I really don’t need to say much about this mob. They do what they do brilliantly, and if this is your thing you’ll love them every time round. They sit at the heart of the ‘new scene’ [current working title]

Chubby and the Gang: angry. That’s a good word to start off with. Chubby are angry at pretty much everything. From the price of food and drink at the festival to the fact that a young relative has just been put in prison for 20 years. Of course festival prices are simply what they are, and if you get a twenty-year stretch it’s probably because you’ve done something very, very bad. Of course if may be a broken society that led you to do it. But if you can’t talke the time, don’t do the crime. Still, angry people make great music, so let’s all join in with Chubby and the Gang and get angry at the world…

SIPHO. : note the full stop. ‘Nothing more to say’. Is that an instruction to not follow the band name with any attempt to describe their music, and instead force people to just go out there and listen to it? In this case that’s not a bad thing. After a possibly ill-advised sampling of a pint of 6.5% IPA late in an afternoon where the festival beer had started flowing pre-noon, my feet led me to the back of the Big Top and my head settled back on my camera bag allowing me the chance to simply immerse myself in a soundscape that had fortunately found its feet as the weekend unfolded, leaving vocals clearly picked out and individual instruments neatly positioned in the overall mix. This was real ‘get your head together’ stuff – accomplished, soulful, powerfully savvy, and dripping with sentiment (but not the overly sweet variety). Very much an aural antidote to the anger of Chubby… but of course the night was still young, and angry was about to be the word once again as the main stage beckoned.

Sleaford Mods: as a replacement for Pixies, Sleafod Mods have huge shoes to fill…and if shoe sizes are measured in units of anger this is a great UK replacement for the missing US headliners. However, shoe sizes in the UK and USA are measured in ‘barleycorns’ (a third of an inch, or 8.47mm to you younsters) – so no matter how angry you get, you can’t fill a size-12 boot. Now don’t get me wrong, I love Sleaford Mods in small doses. When they pop up on a radio show or a random playlist I sit up and listen. But I’ve always found a full set (especially a headline one) more than a little draining. I can feel my positive energy being whittled away with the start of every new song. I tried to experience the set seated on the grass towards the back rather than standing at the front. But after the sixth person tripped over me and rolled down the hill in front of me I decided that fate was trying to tell me something and I beat a hasty retreat to the Roaming Rotisserie for half a chicken, roast potatoes, stuffing and gravy. Sleaford Mods, if they had known, would probably have sung an angry song about that too…