Truck 2015 Friday pt 2

Whilst the hordes are on the move, looking for a good spot for Clean Bandit, we’ve already found the best one: a long way away, watching Ghostpoet. He really is an impressive performer, delivering his vocals in a deep, authoritative sprechgesang which is half Harlem Renaissance and half Blue Aeroplanes, with occasional sidesteps into Isaac Hayes cream and honey or Jarvis Cocker’s dramatic gasps.  The band is top notch, but keeps to an approachable blues churn in the vein of mid-90s P J Harvey, to highlight the vocals but not at the expense of an immersive groove.  Add some liberal dubby FX and sweetly bitter backing vocals that bring to mind Martina Topley-Bird, and you have probably the most understated yet hypnotic show of the weekend.

Understated not being a term we’re likely to use in relation to Fat White Family.  The programme this year tries to triangulate all the acts on the bill against other bands, which is fine, but some of the choices are a bit odd – and, also, are there really people on site who have never heard of Basement Jaxx but who are au fait with the long and varied career of Audio Bullys?  Apparently Fat Whites are “for fans of The Wytches/ Hookworms/ TRAAMS”, which just about works, although we would have offered “Marc Almond/ The Country Teasers/ guilt and greasy residues”.  The show doesn’t come close to their infamous Bully outing a couple of years ago, but their wheedling, sleazy slow-burns please the crowd as much as their onstage charm alienates the security and engineers.  It’s also fun to imagine the hip young things going wild to “I Am Mark E Smith” reacting in the same way to the Mancunian goblin overlord himself.

Why does Tim Burgess look like your funny uncle who’s come to a family picnic disguised as Andy Warhol?  It’s a question that nags throughout The Charlatans’ set.  The band trudges a little, taking songs at a leisurely pace when some of them would benefit from a bit of fire: “North Country Boy” is a Madchester Dylan sneer, and “Just When You’re Thinkin’ Things Over” is imbued with classic Stones strut, and need to be presented with more vitriol.  It’s certainly not a bad set, and a long way from the lackadaisical effort by Evan Dando years ago, but it sends us into the night feeling quietly satisfied rather than electrified by rock ‘n’ roll.