“We already have a mosh pit,” said North London rapper MoStack, laughing already late for the party at 3:10 pm. Since August 2019, as the first event to be held at full capacity by top weekend travelers in the UK festival season, Reading, the southern half of the Reading & Leeds Twin Fest, has been on the shuttle bus since the shuttle bus procession. I’m throwing myself into the wall of death. .. For Berkshire’s glittering teenage predators, the 2021 festival season begins here and ends with just 72 hours of delight and strongbow dark fruit.
Recognizing the desire to pack as many festivals as possible in the next three days, the organizer’s Festival Republic took a few minutes to each other’s two major stages, east and west, to effectively double the rocks. Provided an act to perform within. However, instead of conveniently arranging US tour festivals and radio road shows side by side, they are placed at both ends of the site to ensure the vast crowds between stages and the largest spread of Covid with a successful gate crash. increase. Strict entry test requirements.
Two different festivals were also held throughout those stages. Early on Friday, the Dublin inhaler symbolized one tone: Playlist Indie. You’ve built a million-foot subway on something like this-played on just enough guitar to qualify as a band and don’t scare the average Courteeners fan to click on something else Anthemic and non-challenging pop song that’s safe enough for you.
There are many things to do. For example, inhaler songs like “My Honest Face” have enough bite to send their debut album. It doesn’t always look like this, Last month number one. Even if you see the singer and Bono’s son Elijah Hewson’s Bonones, you can’t see it. There are no similarities in his music. Similarly, on the west stage, Sea Girls with the sound of a synth U2 and the look of The Warriors’ 80’s New York Mohawk gang are as mechanically designed to appeal to the edgy side. It’s catchy. Of Joe Wiley.
In such a pleasing predictability, the London sports team is a strange refreshing fuss. Blow a windmill with an air guitar in a white bow tie and spanking a new dungaree. As Kevin Roland brushed up on this occasion in 1982, the singer-uh, the perverted Jelper-Alec Slice leads the band with songs similar to The Strokes, Rupture, and Blur. There is a shortage of Ritalin. The moshpit sits down and operates the boat accordingly. The lyrical foundation includes the M5’s reckless driver, at least as good as Ashton Kutcher. At some point, Rice goes to crowd surfing, dresses more than he originally did, and returns to the stage. Gob smacking thing.
Declan McKenna is also cut from a frivolous cloth and rides the East Stage on a bike dressed as a futuristic 1960s lounge lizard. He plays a synthetic clone of blues, funk and folk rock in a grinning hippie band. And even the two playlist-indie giants who conclude the West stage have a surprising element. Having both a guitar and a chart-worthy teakbone, the British rock star idea Sam Fender brought in a jazz jazz saxophonist, frustration during the working week (“Saturday”), and society. A target distance paranoia (“Howdon Aldi Death Queue”) and a propulsive and urgent drug drop (“spice”) adjacent to a real punk. But if his songs were a little quiet, there remains suspicion that David Gray was singing them. He also really disappoints himself by ignoring signs in the crowd from fans who demand to play the drums on “Play God.” Such is Dave Groll 101.
Catfish and Bottleman has not missed such an open goal. In rumors of an imminent division, they attack their (effective) reading headline debut as if it were their last time. Appearing in the Beatles’ Helter Skelter intro tape, they immerse themselves in their spirit and power, and in the set of knotty glory demanded by the history of these sacred places. Singer Van McCann throws the best rock star shape, the band sends love, hedonism, and its aftermath (“pacifier”, “twice”, “conversation”) songs to a huge extreme. Plenty of squeaky solos and mountain range riffs. During the epic “2all,” it is sometimes believed that a Chinese lab mutated Biffy Clyro with the Arctic Monkeys gene and unleashed it when reading.
In addition to a dissonant set of latin pop of one note from Mabel who was a mermaid man-the only frontline female of today’s main stage invoices and the festival’s terrible imagination in terms of gender diversity Signs of Lack-The rest of the lineup consists of a legendary rap festival. In some way, it demands action. Between R & B Ragamuffin’s rap about refugee and gangster life and an interlude trying to check the financial position of the entire crowd at once, MoStack claims he will hit the site with a sex rampage after the set. Manchester’s do-it-yourself rapper Aitch, meanwhile, is good at servicing viewers from all angles: garages, traps, ambient minimalism, and Budwar hip-hop, and the ages of the various girls in the front row. After asking, “Do millionaires eat your p ****?” Predatory Threes or Radish Bants? There is a Twitter jury.
AJ Tracey insists on more vertical joy. “I’m the King of Mospit,” the Dirty Prince announces long before he wins it. His set begins with a discreet, crypt-friendly one, and his rap sounds suppressed under an overwhelming bass beat, demanding many of us without giving too much of ourselves. He’s not keen on singing on “Psych Out!”, But it’s like a melodic breath. Even his fireworks seem half-hearted. Fortunately, Aitch’s guest appearance on “Rain” and his guest appearance on his hometown ode “Ladbroke Grove”, “Little More Love,” have been further enhanced by Grenfell’s visuals.
But inevitably, Stormzy steals the show. Rejecting plans for an “event” performance, Big Michael arrives at an explosion of metal guitar debris, and his headline is “shoobz” or a totally dirty party to commemorate the end of 18 months of Covid containment. Declare that you have set it. He fills the balcony on stage with crew, friends and family writhing in the sound of a carnival in the heart of the tropics, inviting guests, including Dave (a spectacular “crash”), to “Know Me From” and Dance like “Big for Your Boots”. 6 feet of dirty imp.
His delight betrays his position as the forefront of anti-racism, gospel rehabilitation, and mental health awareness, and works brilliantly in the calm but exciting soul section ( “Unbundle to dance”, singing gospel backing vocalist), and he naturally adapts to the post-pandemic support therapist role. “Wiley Flow” was introduced as an opportunity to eliminate the misery, frustration and “Boris Johnson p **** ole bulls ***” of the pandemic and witness the joy of screaming “F **” throughout the field. I am. * The last “Vossi Bop” “Boris”. With a lot of bangs, reading is back.