Chromoplasty

Look, I changed the colours. Go, me.

MY MEGA-MELODIC ALL-DAYER, Port Mahon

Promoting gigs is often more a matter of blind hope than financial certainty, but hosting over nine hours of lo-fi performance on Bank Holiday Saturday is simply commercial suicide. Still, we popped along for the first half of My Analogue and Melodic Oxford’s marathon, and discovered some gems, even though we’re pretty sure we were the only non-performing audience member for at least half the time. Dave Griffiths in acoustic mode raised eyebrows from the off, revealing emotional subtleties in his voice rarely evident in Witches’ sonic maelstrom. Arresting, but we still live for sonic maelstroms round here. Proffering rustic guitar strums augmented with frail melodica and glockenspiel, Blanket was never likely to satiate this particular need, but their featherweight pastoralia was lovely. Rather gorgeous on the ear it may be, but trying to actually focus on the music and criticise it proves as tricky as climbing a rice paper staircase. Things fare better on their evocative (and reasonably priced) album.

When Robh Hokum takes to the stage with his acoustic he seems even more awkward than Blanket’s singer, who had the air of a five year old forced to play an angel in the Infants’ Nativity. Quick stage school tip: “I’m this close to vomiting” isn’t an ideal greeting. However, once he starts singing his Americana-brushed songs, any concerns are forgotten. His tiny nylon strung guitar and high reedy voice are so thin and delicate it sounds like someone’s spinning a Depression era 78 onstage, to surprisingly engrossing effect.

Twee will rock you! Synth-poppers Life With Bears have grabbed the guitars to become Socks & Shoes for some inept three chord proto-punk with childlike lyrics, something like The Shaggs meets Rod, Jane & Freddy. It’s bloody great fun, but probably not much else. HIV apologise for their offensive name, but they needn’t worry, their tedious improv rock is offensive enough on its own, a dire mirror image of The Evenings’ brilliance, which is tragic as the members are in wonderful bands too numerous to mention. Some light-hearted unpretentious banter softens the blow, but HIV could have internet moles feverishly typing “Clique”. Caps lock on, naturally. Warbly crooner Wolf Tracks is so ear-manglingly awful we’re ecstatic that we catch a few minutes of Onions For Eyes before departure, and leaving during their carny roustabout 2 Unlimited cover makes us want to stay awhile. Which, after over five hours in The Port, is really the biggest compliment we can give this intriguing, if uneven festival.