We seem to spend a lot of time arguing with people in this town that funk and groove based music can be worth a listen. New Zealand’s Katchafire, however, won’t be convincing anyone, with their noodly Kenny G reggae lite. Introduced as the act that have travelled the furthest to play for us, oddly they’re the act who inspire us to get the furthest away as soon as they start playing…
What went wrong with The Young Knives? A few years ago they were the best band in Oxford, now they’re slightly dull Evening Session cannon fodder…and the Evening Session doesn’t even exist anymore. They don’t play a bad set, but all the old quirks seem to have been ironed out of the tracks, until the highlights of the set are the puerile banter between tunes. We’re still pleased and proud of them, but they don’t do much for us anymore.
It gets to that time on Sunday afternoon when your ears become blasé and we rush between all the stages in ten minutes. Manic Cough are a cross between Harlette and the Schla La Las which is briefly amusing, but ultimately hollow. The September Gurls are all men and play harmless countryish stuff (and here’s Joe Bennett again!), whilst The Research do what they normally do, which feels too twee for this time of day. So we finish off our festival with The Ralfe Band, who showcase some noirish, piano led songs of mystery (literally - we can’t decipher a blooming word). If it sometimes feels like music from Nick Cave’s elevator, when they bring on the percussion and kick out with a cross between “Misirlou” and “Maigret’s Revolver” as performed in a Polish brothel, they get a huge thumbs up. Or at least they would, if we had the strength to move our arms.
So it’s down the road for a last couple of pints before hopping on the last bus back to Oxford. It’s been yet another glorious Truck, and we’ll be back next year. But get some more real ales in next time, eh?
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