THE FRONT ROW

A long time ago in a city far, far away (well it seems like that when you’re stuck in a contraflow system on the Woodhead Pass) there was a festival called Tramlines. A mighty plague swept through the South Yorkshire System and the Tramliners disappeared. Then in 2022 came a New Hope.

Tramlines is Yorkshire’s music festival, and as such the weekend’s line-up was scattered with talent from the White Rose county – Reverend & the Makers, Yard Act, and a host of emerging talent on The Library Stage courtesy of BBC Radio Sheffield Introducing. Kicking things off on the Sarah Nulty Main Stage were York’s own venerable indie darlings – Shed Seven. Coming on to the stage in front of a huge gold lame backdrop, Tramlines 2022 started to the strains of Room In My House. Next came On Standby from the 1996 album – Maximum High – before the band were joined on stage by a brass section for Ocean Pie. Rick Witter’s vocals were top notch, as were the crowds’ during the Going For Gold/Suspicious Minds mash-up. Guitarist Paul Banks was in full flow with a prodigious solo as the set drew to a raucous conclusion with Disco Down. Tramlines had achieved lift-off.

My first visit to the tented Leadmill Stage was to see Edinburgh based singer-songwriter Brooke Combe. Combe has recently signed a record deal with Island and has been working with James Skelly (The Coral), and Charlie Salt (Blossoms). She has a wonderful, searing vocal style brimming with emotion, and writes hook-laden, catchy, soulful pop tunes. There was a decent size crowd in the tent to witness Combe’s set which opened with jangly, stuttering A-Game, included the pleading, heartfelt Impress You, and ended with her debut Island release, the pulsating Are You With Me.

I’m very late to the Baby Queen party on so many levels. She wasn’t even on my list of artists to see at Tramlines, but on leaving the Leadmill Tent I was inexorably drawn to the chaos, colour, and energy emanating from the main stage. Baby Queen was like a black hole sucking in all the matter around her orbit. I quickly became au-fait with her self-analysing, angsty, power-pop tunes – Colours of You, Nobody Really Cares, and Buzzkill.

I was on much firmer ground with Coach Party in the massive T’ Other Stage tent. I was super-impressed by Jess, Steph, Joe and Guy – the ‘other band from the Isle of Wight’ when I recently saw them and was keen to have my initial impressions reinforced. And bolstered they were too. T’ Other Stage is the second stage at Tramlines and is a big place (it would be the venue for Sigrid and Self Esteem) and there was a sizable, expectant crowd in for the band, highlighting their growing reputation. Coach Party are an indie guitar band, with grunge influences, who have pop sensibilities. The tunes had proper riffs and join in chorus’ best exemplified by Everybody Hates Me, and the pounding show stopper Cant’ Talk, Won’t . My only disappointment was that they didn’t play Crying Makes Me Tired, just because it has one of the best opening lines – ‘You’re a prick and I hate you’. Get aboard the Coach Party bus while you can. It’s going to fill up soon.

Heading back to The Leadmill tent, I stopped briefly at The Open Arms for a quick game of Musical Bingo, after all it is a festival, and as Sir Thomas Beecham said, you should ‘Try everything once, except folk dancing and incest’. If Sir Thomas were alive today I feel he might add Shaun Williamson’s Barrioke to his list.

The first thing that struck me about The Clockworks as they strode on to The Leadmill Stage was that there appeared to be one too many of them. Guitarist Sean Connolly had lost an argument with a Cologne paving slab, damaged his arm, and had to be replaced by newbie Robbie O’Connor. Connolly still made it on to the stage and was content to use his remaining arm to rhythmically whack a tambourine against his chest and hit the guitar pedal-board at the appropriate moment. Having seen The Clockworks a few times I can confirm that Connolly’s injuries made little difference to the quality of the bands performance. Their tense, twitchy, angry post-punk/New Pop/guitar sound lost none of it’s edge. Singer James McGregor’s imploring vocals drifted between exasperation and desperation as he railed against the various ills of the modern world including problems with Ryan Air – Stranded In Stansted, and difficulties with returning a faulty laptop – Can I Speak to A Manager.

If James are on at a festival they are one of your ‘Must Sees’. Singer Tim Booth came on to the main stage looking like a champion Weight-Watcher who had turned up in his ‘Before’ clothes. All the better for him to flop about in. Trumpeter Andy Diagram looked like an overdressed member of Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. But it’s the tunes you go to see James for, not fashion tips. James didn’t invent that baggy/dance/indie crossover sound, they just mastered it. They started strongly with Come Home and brought out the all the crowd pleasing big guns – Born of Frustration, Sit Down, and there was even the obligatory Tim Booth crowd surf during a rip-roaring rendition of Getting Away With It (All Messed Up).

The ideal place to see Working Men’s Club is in small, hot, sweaty industrial unit in Birkenhead. If that option is not available go see them in a large, hot sweaty Leadmill tent. Their industrial synth-pop thrives on a utilitarian stage. With their latest album Fear Fear the band have travelled further back down the industrial, electronic time tunnel. New Songs Circumference and Widow have a very ‘Sheffield 1980’ electronic feel to them. Only main man Sydney Minsky-Sargeant seemed constrained by the environment. More used to roaming freely around venues – perched on the stage edge, leaning precariously over the pit – he looked like a dog straining at the leash.

I’ll be honest with you, I’m not a big fan of Sam Fender. I don’t trust anyone who appeals to eight-year old kids, your mates, your Nan, and the Mercury Music Prize Committee. But I was willing to be won over. I’ll have to admit Fender did look at home headlining a main stage at a big festival. And he’s got some decent tunes in his locker beginning with Getting Started. He can mix it up a bit too. His ballads like Dead Boys and Spit of You could bring a tear to a glass eye. He can also let loose and rage with the best of them, but on the night songs like Howdon Aldi Death Queue had to be curtailed from the set due to mosh related incidents in the crowd. By the time I heard Seventeen Going Under, and was surrounded by 30,000 people joining in with the ceaseless chorus on Hypersonic Missiles, and witnessed the flames, fireworks, and snowstorm of ticker-tape that greeted the finale of that song, and the end to the evening, I was a convert.

Bring on Episode 2.

Ian Dunphy.