Live Review :: Nightmare Festival :: Various venues, London - Nov 1 2014

Nightmare Festival

Various venues, Camden, London

November 1 2014

Reporting team: Linn Branson, Richard O'Hagan, Caroline Garden, Alison Mack

Officially billed as 'Nightmare ...On Camden High Street', but more commonly referred to everywhere as just by the first word, this was a one-day festival to celebrate Halloween, with around 120 bands playing across 13 venues throughout the day. For one night only, Camden attempted to turn itself into the scariest place in London, as the ghosties and long-legged freakies came out in force for the inaugural Nightmare.

With events kicking off from midday, some venues which were providing food, became music-while-you-munch spots. At Brewdog the burgers and fries looked slightly more appetising than their opening act - which should have been Nash Albert but turned into A New Tomorrow. Apparently they do "rock with emotional vocals", as there appears to be only two of them, it doesn't get too rockin' but stays on an acoustic level. They do at least enter into the spirit with ghoulish face-paints. 

Some jangly indie pop over at Dingwalls Canalside via I AM IN LOVE - which is a terrible name for what transpires to be a half-decent band, who appear to have been around awhile. Perhaps the name is partly the reason they drew a few blank looks in the room and a search of the Nightmare programme to see who they were - and Sykes, the London electronic trio whose vocalist spends a fair amount of time saying "check-one-two" before they finally get underway with a sweetly melodic set made up of their just released EP The vocalist of the former band comments on it being a weird time of day to play; probably a first too in playing to a blood-splattered audience, a couple of witches and a bloke with a cleaver in his neck.

Both Tigercub and Night Engine ensure Dingwalls' floor vibrates: the Brighton boys by way of decibels, as they provide excellent renditions of 'Little Rope' and new single 'Centrefold', and win over an always notoriously hard-to-please London audience ; the latter in dancing couples as the band whip up bouncey rhythms by the dozen and show the reason behind their being one of the most talked about new bands of last year - that, and how like a young Damian Lewis vocalist Phil is.

Jesus Fucking Christ was undoubtedly one of the talking-points of the day at the Stillery, and when you get at least five professional photographers banked forward of the stage, you know there's a buzz. Not since Loom and Tarik Badwan has an artist caused the front row lining punters to shift themselves, as Norwegian Remi Semshaug Langseth - or as he himself was to repeat more than once "I am Jesus Fucking Christ" - charged amongst them. Whether face down on the floor, up on the drums, on the stack, or heading off into the loos with the mic lead trailing behind him, this was an 'experience'. Loud, hyperactive and with a neat line in scaring photographers wouldn’t be enough to make him interesting were it not for the fact that there’s genuine light and shade in the sonic onslaught. Ending with an offer to sign anyone's penis if they wished, we declined, made our excuses and left (in the words of the late News of the World).

Allusondrugs upped the sweat levels and rammed The Hawley Arms with an energy-filled grunge/psych set - and plenty of hair whipping. This was actually one of two sets the fast-on-the-rise West Yorkshire outfit played at the festival, (also managing to fit in a sneaky unannounced one at the Barfly too), but anyone who caught either would have been convinced they were seeing a very hot band of upstarts. 'Nervous', 'I'm Your Man', 'Am I Weird' all fire like November 5th rockets. They were followed by an extremely young-looking bunch called The Petals. As their set progressed they steadily managed to clear the room. More a case of youth and inexperience on their side, than dire musicianship; these skinny-jeaned indie boys while looking the part, failed to engage with no USP to fall back on. Punters and various spectres of the night return by the time Brooklyn doomers GHXST take up position. Playing the last of their three show UK visit, they whack out some moody droning delights that is possibly far lo-er-fi'd than might have been expected from their recorded output. Frontwoman Shelley X lends her own kind of Halloween cool by wearing a black hoodie with skeleton print.

Rival State at the Barfly were much the Kiwi version of Quo. All blasting a four-man guitar wall, they opened in a solid backs to audience stance, before powering through some energetic riffs and over-enthusive lighting effects. The last date of their present UK visit, they'll be back in December and well worth a go-see, if not least for vocalist Neill Fraser's tight black leather pants.

Storms don't so much storm the Jazz Café, but sassay in on a breeze of grunge blues. Spine-tingling sensations experienced during 'Special' and 'Undress' we're convinced was not down to the spookiness of the event, but owed more to the realisation that one was watching a band about to break; not yet, few little tweaks, a walloping track, some good PR and airplay and they can nail it. George Runciman's baby-faced looks may appeal, but his helium-like vocals may take some getting used to; however, the adroit guitar licks of Felix Howes (on 'Shame' in particular), more than compensate until you do.

Panic The Vulture had the unenviable task of opening proceedings at the Electric Ballroom. The quintet try manfully to fill the cavernous space with their disco-tinged southern sound, but they’re fighting a losing battle as most of the skeletons seem to have gone for a tea break. Which is a shame, as they’ve got some decent (if not terribly original) tunes, a frontman in Jed Turner who somehow pulls off looking like a late-80s George Michael, posing and swaggering like a prime-time Gallagher and sounding vaguely like a displaced Altman brother, and a slight obsession with rattlesnakes.

Speaking of battling manfully, the prize for most inventive attempt to triumph over adversity has to go to Empire, who decide to deal with the tiny stage and terrible acoustics at Dingwalls Canalside by simply taking over the entire venue. It’s nice of them to make the effort, as musically this is something a little different, almost genre defying. It is as if someone took a screamo band such as the late, lamented Thursday and gave them a singer with a powerful, soulful, voice. Definitely a band to watch.

Eat The Evidence fully embrace the Halloween theme, with guitarist / accordionist Jack Lattimer looking so good in drag that passers by can be seen looking through the window and checking out his legs. Looking great in fancy dress means nothing if you don’t have the tunes to back it up, but 'Third Eye Spy' skanks along beautifully, whilst 'Tories Go To Waitrose' not only rocks the best title of the day but has most of the audience in hysterics, too.

One of the most pleasant surprises of the festival is the reappearance of Suzerain, last seen eight years ago in Hyde Park. Despite being jammed onto the tiny Black Cap stage – or in the case of keyboard player Matt Constantine, off it completely – it has been far too long since we heard Thomas Pether’s dark tones. Most pitiful sight of the evening is local kids Amaryllis failing to even half-fill the tiny Stillery venue. They’re far from the worst band on show (and many more established acts could do well to emulate their enthusiasm and energy), but at the same time there’s nothing particularly memorable about their music, either.

Midlands punk four-piece Max Raptor bring punk, attitude and a blistering full force set to Underworld like an Enter Shikari with Black Country accents. If Jesus Fucking Christ was the highlight of the afternoon, when The Hell took to the stage at Underworld later in the evening they created hell and a whole lot more, providing one of the night's highlights. Anyone familiar with this most outrageous of bands will not have expected anything less than the flying penis (inflatable) and enough fire to light a furnace. Joined by Brawlers - who earlier had played their own set along the road at the Electric Ballroom - monster mayhem ensued.

Back at the Black Cap proceedings end on a decidedly damp note as Fizzy Blood fail to live up to their reputation and basically play a drab set that has half of the audience leaving by the midpoint. Most of them nip over the road to catch the returning Elliot Minor, who provide a much needed aural cleanse as they dip into their back catalogue for what might be the last time, despite the teaser of new song 'All My Life'.

As the evening begins to wind down, the crazy world of Charles Costa rolls into town and turns the Electric Ballroom into a heaving mass of King Charles insanity. Costa throws everything into a packed set, including a few bars of 'Call Me Al', Big Country guitars and lot of love - 'Love Lust' and 'Loveblood', of course.

It all comes to an end with Blood Red Shoes, not only appropriately named but appropriately dressed, Laura-Mary Carter almost unrecognisable as Morticia Adams and Steven Ansell resplendent as Beetlejuice himself. A decade on the road has turned to duo into a polished, high-performance outfit and they deliver a solid set packed with hits, including a storming 'I Wish I Was Someone Better', to bring a perfect end to a ghoulish day.