Live Review

Hop Farm – Kent

• 6th Jul 2010

Walking into scenic Hop Farm in Kent I was greeted by a waft of weed smoke, a smell that would linger throughout the duration of the festival. The first act I experienced was the beautiful sounds of Laura Marling. Her sweet, shy manner was matched with equally dulcet and pleasant tunes.

Next on stage was the infamous Pete Doherty. In the past he has muddled his way through gigs, performing under the influence, on another planet, or not even bothered to show up to the gig at all. So expectations were low. However, as the Kentish sun intensified so did the musical talent. A fresh, on-song Doherty bounded out on stage leading the crowd in a boisterous chant of Hopping Down in Kent. From good humour to brilliant harmonies Doherty soon had the audience in the palm of his hand as he worked through a back-catalogue of songs ranging from Libertines to Babyshambles to solo material. With hit after hit it was like being in the ring with Mike Tyson, but the result was a lot less painful. Two elegant ballet dancers joined Doherty on stage for many of the songs, providing a somewhat ironic juxtaposition to his rock tunes, especially when you listen to the lyrical content of his songs. They frolicked with Union Jacks as Pete pulled back the pace for a stirring rendition of Last of the English Roses. His version of Can’t Stand Me Now had the crowd in full voice and by the time he closed the set with F**k Forever there was barely a person in the field not screaming along, captured by the energy of his set. For me this was the highlight of my day. A perfect performance and a welcome surprise when I had wrongly expected mediocrity.

Seasick Steve took to the stage next. He charmed the crowd with his bluesy drawl, quirky instruments and amusing anecdotes. One particular lady was exceedingly captivated, as she had been plucked from the audience to sit on stage while he serenaded her and offered her some of the wine he had been swigging from the bottle.

Mumford & Sons got the crowd moving in the blistering sunshine. The enthusiasm and energy of the band’s frantic finger picking and sing-along tunes quickly won everyone over. What an amazing year it has been for these four London lads, 12 months ago they were a virtually unheard of act, now they are playing to “more people than we have ever seen” and almost everyone was singing along word for word as they worked through hits such as Little Lion Man and The Cave. As they finished a memorable set they drew attention to the amazing artists still to come: “Does anyone else agree with me that this is the best line-up of the summer?”

As the sun began to set Ray Davies sauntered on stage, ever suave in a lacy white shirt. With the incredible Kink’s back-catalogue at his disposal it would have been almost impossible to go wrong, but on this day it was just so right. As the last few rays of sunshine warmed the shoulders of the crowd Davies broke out Sunny Afternoon, simply sublime. Each song impacts on the audience more than the next and no-one wants the set to end, so when Davies says : “They’ve told me to come off early, but I’m gonna keep on playing live a bit longer,” the crowd erupts in joy. From small children dancing to old timers singing every word, this is a performance to please all. You Really Got Me and All Day And All Of The Night reach a climax before Lola closes a stellar set.

Following a half hour sound check, double the amount of time taken by any other artist at the festival, expectations were high (though I have to admit to always feeling skeptical, any number of tuned in instruments will not mask a voice lacking as much harmony as Dylan’s). This ageing troubadour’s days of singing melodically are long past him. Just as Keith Richard wears leathery skin as a badge of honour to his days of rock ‘n’ roll excess, so too is Dylan’s raspy, pack-of-ciggies-a-day sounding voice.

For the first three songs, sorry I can’t tell you what they were – they were completely unrecognisable as Dylan mumbled his way through without pronouncing a single word, he was hunched over a keyboard hiding behind a large white cowboy hat. Then he pulled out Just Like A Woman and it seemed as though all might not be lost, while his delivery was underwhelming the song got the audience enthused.

To be honest, if we were in a bar and this was an open-mike night Dylan would have been booed off stage in disgust, as if he were a bad joke. But he’s Bob Dylan, a living legend, poetic lyricist, revolutionary protest figure and those who had stayed to watch him (many had left with looks of stunned disbelief on their sunburnt faces) were in awe at being that close to the star. Dylan redeemed himself slightly at the end with an encore that included Like A Rolling Stone and Forever Young and many were singing along, in a more articulate way than the man himself. But it didn’t make up for the tracks he omitted, including Times They Are A-Changing, Blowin’ in the Wind and Mr Tambourine Man. Tonight he was flat, both musically and physically, lacking in stage presence, and completely devoid of tune or melody. Even his harmonic playing was lackluster.

So with that I staggered over to the second stage negotiating my way over the obstacle course of discarded bottle and rubbish to catch Devendra Banhart, so as not leave the festival on a disappointing note. On route I had to chuckle at the random strangers providing huge amusement with their exaggerated Dylan impressions. One emphasised his point by pretending to eat a hand full of gravel before growling a rendition of ‘Like a Rolling Stone’!