With a line-up that is rightfully eclectic or heroically ill-suited, depending on your point of view, this is a peculiar bill, drawing on four bands whose sole connection is a deep indebtedness to the past.
Exhibit A: The Thrills. The haircuts and sound are unashamedly 60s West Coast US, but embedded in closing number 'Santa Cruz' they have a chorus of such joyousness that you want it to go on forever, and, with the aid of some wandering Polyphonic Spree-er's and their children, it damn near does. An impressive, if somewhat obvious, start.
Next up are Interpol who throw up the eternal conundrum of art versus artifice - in short, does the substance of these New Yorkers rise above their pose? Certainly, there is plenty of the latter, from co-ordinated black suits to the bassist's theatrically rock'n'roll pursuit of cigarette smoking.
Well-drilled and direct, they have earned comparisons with Joy Division and The Cardiacs - specialising in a bass-driven 80s sound, reliant on four strings rather than six for it's melodies. Guitarist Daniel Kessler compliments the project with chiming Rickenbacker riffs that are pure Smiths-era Johnny Marr and, when slowed down, as they are on 'NYC', majestic. A winning formula and a victory for art on points.
With the sheer number of instruments still on stage, either a car boot sale is starting or a 23-piece, quasi-religious, white-robed, psychedelic band from Texas are about to play. Thankfully, it's the latter. Following on from Interpol's gothic chic the words 'chalk' and 'cheese' spring to mind.
There should be something scarily Waco-like or sickly sweet about these robed figures, but, like The Flaming Lips, The Polyphonic Spree trade in a euphoria beyond the hardest cynicism. Whipped up by chief minister Tim Delaughter, the collective delight they exude is akin to scoring the winning goal at Wembley with the innocent pleasure of watching sea lions juggle beach balls.
Like The Langley Schools Music Project grown up and performing the songs from 'HAIR', the heights of 'Soldier Girl', 'Have A Day' and 'Hanging Around' have the crowd eating from their forty-six palms. An amazing sight. Send them to Iraq and there'd surely be no war. You feel pity for whoever follows them...which, curiously, is an AC/DC covers band from New Zealand.
Actually, that's unfair. The Datsuns do have a couple of genuinely great anthems - 'Harmonic Generator' and 'In Love' - but, even if you are looking through the rose-tinted spectacles of the 'New Rock Revolution', this is unreconstructed heavy metal at it's most primal. Music formerly the sole preserve of men who drank cider, bathed in urine and wore leather jackets decorated elaborately with tippex.
'Lady', 'MF From Hell' and 'Freeze Sucker' hurtle by in all their long-haired, tight-bunned glory and it's undeniably great fun, though head-scratching in its popularity. Perhaps, like kindred spirits The Hives, The Datsuns simply serve to remind us lily-livered Brits how to rock again. Whether such a shamelessly retro proposition offers much of a future is however unclear. File under: Mock Rock.
