Guildford 2001 Review - Saturday

Saturday dawned bright and sunny, and although the weather wasn't to last, there was only the occasional heavy shower throughout the afternoon to dampen spirits slightly.

The Chameleons brought some Midland's charm to the Main stage, and bongo-man Kwasi held the show together, as longish gaps between the tracks turned into spontaneous rapping thankyou's to everyone who's efforts had gone into the weekend. He wasn't going to let us forget that a new album was on it's way, but you couldn't fault the truth of it when he implored the crowd that "The best way of showin' appreciation is by the standin' and the clappin' and the dancin'."

Not much of that going on right now, but hey, things are just warming up...

Over in the Dance Tent, Finger were having more technical problems than even Alabama 3, and crew wandered around aimlessly with connecting leads, as others tapped forlornly at dead sequencers. Resident DJ's went off on strange tangents, as hard-core dance beats cut to Captain Sensible's 'Happy Talk'. A thin crowd span and laughed, and nobody seemed really bothered about anything at all.

Chumbawumba, on the other hand, were as polished a bunch of anarchists as you're ever likely to meet. No longer angry young men and women on the surface, but with the same fierce energy as ever you know however that when they spin the anti-fascist line then they really do mean it. 'Time Bomb' was dedicated to Alabama 3's performance the day before, and when it came to 'Enough is Enough' then I got the feeling that there were plenty in the crowd who disagreed. The Chumba's clearly enjoyed the show as much as the punters, for as Alice Nutter so meekly put it afterwards, "Oh, that was so lovely!"

Finger did finally manage to pull it out around this time, and despite a sense that they had just stumbled out of the city and were wondering what all this green stuff was, they managed a very creditable performance, that blended funky and soulful Portishead style vocals with Red Snapperesque tunes.

Wood were anything but wooden over at Aladdin's Cave, and as I wandered up to the tent, I had a sense that I was hearing something like U2 doing a lazy Sunday afternoon jam session of the songs that hadn't quite made it onto their albums. The frontman's passing resemblance to Mr Bono himself strengthened the impression.

Of course I was just waiting for Drunk in Public to arrive, but as El Camino were doing a set in the nearby Unsung Heroes tent then I had time to pop over and listen to their Crowded House take on the indie scene. I bought their CD as a result if that's any indication.