Reviews / Dot to Dot festival
Review: Dot to Dot – ‘Post-punk in all its myriad forms’
There’s a buzz in Bristol today. I’m greeted by hordes of ravers as I jump on the train into town. The Love Saves crowd, on their way to dance the sunny day away at Ashton Court, might wonder why anyone would want to spend it in dingy rooms with the amps turned up to 11.
But the lure of the fuzz and the feedback is strong. Dot to Dot is my destination.
Dungers and docs donned, ready for a full day of missions from one town centre venue to the next, it’s a relief that my first stop – the Louisiana – is cranking the air con.
is needed now More than ever
Sun Fruits at the Lanes stole the show for this reviewer
Mould kick off with a bang. 2.30pm feels early to be packed into this dark room, but as the first chord rings out I remember why I’m here.
The Bristol trio are all angular riffs and atonal exuberance, the bassist’s guitar held together with gaffa. The floor vibrates at supercharged moments. It’s a hell of an energy-raiser for a day that started with granola and gardening. I make a mental note to grab earplugs.
I move downstairs for The Clangers. Another local outfit, they’re just as noisy but with a more playful feel. Their look and sound steals from the rural punk aesthetic of ‘90s Portland – barefeet, blonde curtains, short sleeves over long – with added harmonica and korg.
Their instrumentals are hypnotic, the bass a continuous roll of thunder. Single Roundabouts has catchy melodies reminiscent of Libertines Up the Bracket.
The Clangers are at Lost Horizon on June 2. Would recommend.
Bristol band The Clangers performed a rousing set in the bar at the Louisiana
Next, I hit the Dockside stage, for C Turtle. They offer up a lusher, lazier groove that suits this sunny harbourside spot.
Mimiko McVeigh steals the show with a distinctly Courtney Barnett-esque delivery that left me wondering if she might be a little sister incognito. Her bored monotone is contrasted by woozy whammy and rock and roll shrieks from her male counterpart.
I head to the 02 for Adwaith’s charming disco-tinged melodic indie. They join a long line of bands proudly championing the Welsh language in what feels like a celebration of cultural identity rather than a political stance.
They’re affable and warm, though all inexplicably dressed in smart office wear. Still, it’s the last thing on my mind as I’m swept away by the smile-inducing nostalgic alt-pop of set-closer ETO.
Adwaith won the crowd upstairs at the O2 over with their affable charm and melodic indie hooks
Back at Dockside, Girl Scout are a slick, self-assured counterbalance to this friendly fuzziness. Front woman Emma Jansson leads on their jangly guitar pop – or ‘bubblegrunge’ as they call it – with sweet harmonies that feels like pure 6 Music fodder.
Bluai hail from Belgium but ooze Scandi-cool, from the muted tones and nautical stripes of their apparel and instruments, to their blonde locks and watery-eyed gazes. Their folksy shoegaze is mellow and low-key, perfect for a rest and recharge in the Thekla bar.
The 02’s main room is rammed for Welsh punky-party Panic Shack. The band are in their pants, de rigueur for all-female punk bands these days (or possibly since the days of Kathleen Hanna or, more likely, forever).
A supercharged version of their brooding feminist anthem I Don’t Really Like It sets the energy bar at high from the get-go.
They slam through their classics, prompting moshing and shirt-swinging. By closers The Ick and Lighter the crowd is a bunch of wild animals let loose.
Panic Shack whipped the O2’s main room up into a frenzy
Strange Brew feels quiet in comparison, but it’s cosy and there’s a happy buzz in the air. Prima Queen meet this energy perfectly. Their country-tinged heartbreak ballads are delivered with a smiling, friendly spirit. A third of the trio is local, and hometown support for them is strong.
Lush violin on Butterknife and slide on Invisible Hand are a treat for ears that are feeling a tad guitar-ed out by this point.
By 8.30pm it’s been a long day already so I trot across the road to the Lanes, taking a punt on Sun Fruits because I’m in the mood for some dreamy psyche and it’s something Aussies seem consistently great at.
It’s the best choice I make all day. I’ve found my new favourite band – and I’m not alone. Sun Fruits bring swagger, sass, and sunny hooks. They’ve got synchronised high kicks, mullets and fluorescent green eye makeup. They make the whole room dance and punch the air in sheer joy.
Despite their shiny, joyful spectacle of a performance, they make time to call for ceasefire in Palestine. Their statement only serves to win over more hearts.
Australia’s Sun Fruits won over hearts with their uplifting psyche-rock and call for ceasefire in Palestine
So, to begin with, Search Results at Dareshack feels like an anticlimax. The band’s heavy, jarring energy doesn’t feel right for a crowd with weary legs and battered eardrums.
Then the drummer lets loose. He’s all over the kit in a clumsy, flailing style, but he’s also relentless, driving and unbelievably fast. He is mesmerising. Coincidentally, he has the look of a mop-headed version of Miles Teller’s Andrew in Whiplash.
I realise I’ve skipped dinner in all the excitement. Luckily in Bristol you’re never more than ten minutes away from a dosa, so a quick stop for sustenance buoys me up for the wet walk down the hill to Thekla.
It’s fitting that my day ends where it began – by the water. A party is the only thing that will sustain a Bristol crowd now, and Anthony Szmierek is so clearly up to the job.
He launches into straight-up banger the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Fallacy and Thekla’s cargo hold is jumping.
He keeps the energy up with How Did I Get Here, the crowd belting out his choruses back at him. He’s overwhelmed and overjoyed, shaking hands, clinking cans and crowdsurfing.
It was hard to tell who was happier, the crowd at Thekla or Antony Szmierek himself
The phones come out for his version of Sugababes’ Overload, but it’s his own material that kills.
“Just because you got up late, doesn’t mean you wasted the day – I promise,” he says, soothingly, on Rock and a Calm Place.
And “Everything’s ironic nowadays – we’re post-post-punk” he laughs, and the crowd laughs along in glorious self-awareness. We’re so ironic now, we’re post-irony. We’re no longer cool, we’re post-cool. And it is so much more fun.
Sadly, I have to leave. It’s tipping it down, Ubers are £32 and I’m dead on my feet. And – as an end to a full-on day of quality musical immersion – nothing could top Mr Szmierek.
All photos: Ursula Billington
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