Review: Supersonic Festival - Birmingham, July 14 2007

review 

If Supersonic had a personality disorder it would be paranoid schizophrenia. There’s nothing more refreshing than wandering from stage to stage at a festival and being bombarded with so many delightfully conflicting sights and sounds.

Many words have been used to describe Supersonic Festival, among them: eclectic, diverse, exciting, dynamic. All of which are rightly deserved; Supersonic is all of these things and more.

Opening the Outside Stage on Saturday with their barrage of drum and bass was Shit & Shine. It’s mesmerising to watch; four long haired sweaty drummers aggressively pounding away and two men assaulting their bass guitars to form an infuriating and epic tangle of explosions. It seemed to go on forever as the audience was forced into a frenzy, lights and lasers setting the tone for a hypnotic rhythmic rollercoaster.

Crippled Black Phoenix brought the festival crashing down into the depths of grunge, miserable and tragic tales of love and loss finding its way into the hearts and souls of the many gathered to see them. There was something beautiful happening between the audience and band; a deep and meaningful relationship formed as we travelled through the beautiful melodic droning guitar and heard it escapade into a heavy grunge epic.

Continuing the journey into beautiful and frail melodies, Shady Bard invited us into their world; one that was enchanting and mysterious, led by a mini indie orchestra and the harmony of their delicate but stunning sound. It’s the kind of music that sends shivers down your spine and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

If you were ever going to take a band camping, Tunng would have to be your first choice, with perfect campfire songs. Bringing their experimental blend of traditional English folk and electronica to the pastures of Supersonic Festival; a thumping beat behind a myriad of clapping, acoustic guitars and an interesting collection of shells. It’s moving, comforting and very pretty.

But, shattering any illusion that this festival is one of peace and tranquillity, with soft swooning melodies filling the air at every turn, the pure chaos and utter madness of the Beestung Lips was unleashed. A far cry from the charming folky tones of Tunng, this Birmingham foursome hold no bars as they convulse and thrash around on stage like a rampaging beast, foaming at the mouth and spitting into the crowd. Their eyes are rolling, the sweat is pouring, they’re rocking back and forth: they’re possessed. It’s an unadulterated and unrelenting assault on your ear drums, with thrashing guitars, hammering drums and a screaming vocal bringing a little anarchy to Supersonic.

The psychadelic doom metal, excessive guitar licking and scorching vocals of Pharaoh Overlord drew a massive crowd at The Arches Stage, sending the audience into a headbanging heavy metal trance as the repetitive rhythmic sounds emulated from the stage.

Sauntering back to the Outside stage with a pounding headache and a satisfying ringing in my ears, I invaded the playtime of the Modified Toy Orchestra. There’s something strangely comforting about a group of fully grown men in suits fondling Barbie dolls and rewired children’s toys. ‘Funfair For The Common Man’ sees the group and crowd bounce up and down clapping to the sounds of an irresistible electro pop tune with breaks in all the right places. It’s inspiring, nostalgic and very entertaining, a playground of noise and fun where everyone’s invited.

The 7 Inch Cinema offered an interesting range of independent shorts and hilarious programming. ‘Kipple’, a collection of funny archive cut ups and edited bits saw the joys of a Microwave Magician, dogs pruned rear ends, cheesy Americans, and Patrick Stewart, Kevin Costner and Paul Gascoine discussing Cliff Richard’s tragic downward spiral into heavy metal possession. Legendary.

Coming out of the cinema to be confronted by a monstrous, twisted racket coming from a group of people draped in shiny silver Monk’s cloaks was something of a shock. Welcome to the joys of Chrome Hoof. It was strange, urgent and unnerving, but incredibly fun. A futuristic space invasion led by a 12 foot ram on stilts, a fantastic spectacle that could only be followed by the beautifully magnificent and monumental sounds of Mogwai.

The crowd was sent into a spellbinding trance – Mogwai are the kind of band that make you stop and watch, hypnotised by the contrast of sweet piano as it escalates into a crescendo of distorted guitars and pounding drums, this is progressive psychedelic rock at its best.

But it wasn’t over yet: a smoke machine and foggy green lighting turned the Arches Arena into a strange and encompassing place as we waited for Sun0))) to emerge from the depths of the unknown. Which was a long time coming, the eager audience reduced to making primal noises to entertain themselves until the time to sample the delights of Sun0))) had finally come.

Soon, a weird bearded wizard type figure in a cloak chanting strange tribal stuff and making odd noises surfaced. It was like being in a cult worshipping some sort of Wizard God. Amidst the unnerving and compelling noise that was taking over the stage I’m pleased to say there were no acts of defecation on my part, or anyone else around me.

And alas, my first Supersonic experience had come to an abrupt end. Shoving two fingers up at the mainstream, Supersonic really is the eclectic, diverse, exciting and dynamic festival it promises to be. It aggravates and massages your senses simultaneously.

By Tess Langley
Photo: Katia Ogrin