Horticulture Club

What can I say about this one? A tiny festival on an allotment, how can you possibly dislike that?

ELDER STUBBS FESTIVAL, ELDER STUBBS ALLOTMENT, 21/8/04

You'd have to boast a heart hewn from cold, unloving rock not to be tempted by a music festival held in a Cowley allotment: if you can't relax with music and poetry amongst the cabbages and frankly terrifying pagan sculptures of Elder Stubbs on a sunny day, I have no hope for you. And at 50p entry, it's something of a bargain!

Skeleton Crew impress immediately with their medieval folk and early music performances. Now, I don't know my sackbut from my serpent, or my pavanne from my galliard, but the sound was enticing, albeit fighting a losing battle with the noise of a bustling cafe.

I'm guessing, from looking at the four of them, that The Noisy Oysters are a family who prefer to play klezmer classics of an evening instead of watching reality TV. Good choice. Their set is somewhat hesitant, but manages ot deliver the goods eventually.

At first glance Jeremy Hughes' guitar instrumentals just sound like somebody practising, doodling around some little trills and getting that muscle memory programmed in. Maybe it was the dappled sunlight and the tin of beer, but today it all made perfect sense, and his cyclical compositions transported us away on light and nimble melodies.

Next up regulars from local pub The Exeter Hall knocked out a couple of tunes each. Quality varied, but the spirit shone through.

When did you last see a table and sitar duo reviewed in Oxford? Proving that there's more to acoustic music than strumming hippies anbd self-pitying wastrels, Pandit Kailash Pawar & Chris Hills perform an hour of traditional ragas. Again, I'm no expert, but the music was spellbinding, if not always as fluid as it might be. Still, considering they hadn't met till that day, and Hills was playing pieces he'd never heard before, you've got to give them credit.

Mark Ginsberg is wearing a polka dot shirt whilst playing pier-end covers on an antediluvian organ. Clearly it's rubbish, but somehow those old bossa nova rhythm presets really kick, in a hissing Autechral fashion...plus his cover of "Purple Haze" reveals he isn't taking this too seriously either...

If Kenny Everett were recording a sketch about washed up 70s rockers, he'd copy Hawkwind alumnus Hugh Lloyd-Langton exactly. He's got the dangling fag, the Rod Stewart hairdo, the stoned chuckle and the leopard print waistcoat. He appears to be completely wasted. He's also got the bluesy Pagesque technique on his acoustic guitar to just about get away with it. A fine exemplum for the avoidance of drugs; nearly as fine as the surrounding sculptures.

Inflatable Buddha could be astonishing, but they don't know their own strengths. They boast weird instrumentation, a freaky stage presence and a ranting poet, yet they insist on performing rock tunes, despite the fact that the rhythm section has no bite and the vocalist can't sing (also for a poet his diction is awful, but we'll ignore that). "I Met A Girl" might make sense if Dive Dive played it, but Buddha should stick to the acid cabaret they know: "Fat Sex" and the one about boiling frogs, now there's some real character.

In a flurry of fiddle-licked hoedown punk, Some Dogs finish the afternoon. They display far more energy than ability (except for the sizzling violinist) but it seems to fit. As they say, if you don't like it, go ask for your 50p back! Nope, money well spent I say, as was the Le Tigre CD I picked up for 20p on a charity stall. A great day out, and I haven't even mentioned the marrow auction, the Backroom Poets, the Oxford Drum Troupe, the oldest-of-schools electro DJ or the free pinball. Prize produce all round!