Download 2005: Friday Main Stage

United Kingdom | | 10 June 2005

And the kinder-whore, Lolita, blues-rock of Queen Adreena certainly sharpens the ears, explosively opening the main stage. Fresh from a UK tour of the new album 'The Butcher And The Butterfly', the spell binding 'Heavenly Surrender' enraptures the crowd from the start, as raw energy fuses with gothic elegance. It all translates perfectly for an early set, which allows Katie Jane to be as provocative as ever, particularly during 'FM Doll'. Ethereal yet disturbing, all flowers, hair and torn lace, the band delight, fright and tease with their display of sombre, furious metal tinged with fragility.

A quality Wednesday 13 definitely lack, but underneath the grease paint and drama, mid-week man and his ghoulish cohorts are ostensibly a rock 'n' roll band. Clearly the teen-goth majority represent the fan base but this unique brand of horror punk appeals to a varied audience akin to Alice Cooper, The Tubes or The Cramps. Ambitious and inhibited, the set comprises of material from debut album 'Transylvania 90210' as well as live favourites 'Rock For Me' and 'Walk Like A Zombie', which result in a majestic closing. 

Typically accustomed to intimate indie venues, JJ72 have a lot to prove. Despite this, they are capable, militarian and musically adept enough to give a heart felt, vitriolic performance.'Take From Me' displays the angst ridden familiarity of Mark Greaney's pleading vocals, a taste of things to come from the new line-up. But today, technical difficulties and a lack of interaction with the crows results in a lukewarm performance.

The last thing we need is another Libertines clone. Fresh from the assembly line, The Others' Dominic Masters howls at the poor children in the pit like some overgrown mop-topped, evil CBBC presenter. This is one of their final UK dates this year. Good bloody riddance is all we can say.

Finally the curse of 'indie day' is broken by a mouse in a gas mask. Biffy Clyro bring the first main stage slam pit, riffs so punching that Simon Neill can barely see through his hair amid a group hug with the audience that could cost their front man several minor appendages. Blinding stuff.