Nightmarefest

Nightmarefest, a one-day rock festival spread out in the style of the Camden crawl, certainly was a nightmare for me.

Before the ridiculous ensued I managed to catch The Dirty Truth @ The Good Mixer. Dressed to distress in vaudeville spooky garb, their set got the room dancing. With punchy brass and vocals that could have jumped from the west end’s Sweeney Todd, the atmosphere was great, people of all ages danced and flung limbs about in time with their swinging ska/rock tunes.

Matt Grocott and the Shrives performed next to a packed audience…LISTEN TO THIS BAND NOW. Grocott’s voice is on par with greats like Joe Strummer and Van Morrison, there is no way this band won’t go far. They flawlessly moved on from one track to another, playing tightly and building up the atmosphere. With a track recently produced by Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day, one would imagine the band would adhere to a punk rock sound; this was not the case as they blues up some numbers and stripped back others, creating a dynamic more varied then I have ever seen in such a young band. Each band member played with a real intensity, my only criticism is that they could perhaps look more cheerful on stage! The band bashed out newest single ‘Turn Me On’ at the end of their set with passion and vigour…and the tune is still stuck in my head!

I Migrated to The Underworld to see enigmatic screamers The Hell. Wearing clown wigs, mouth bandanas, chains and foreign exchange student trainers, the band looked as ridiculous as their banter was…“no need to tell us about the other bands, they were shit” being a particularly memorable quote. I decided to seize the moment and start moshing in my cat dress pretending to hump an inflatable penis…in my hyped up state I was flung onto the stage; the only logical way to get down in my mind was obviously to crowdsurf. I was immediately dropped and trodden on to the tune of “we’re the fucking hell, who the fuck are you” and I’ve never felt so badass (thanks to the man in the pig mask for helping me up).

Watching Elliott Minor afterwards is probably what sent me to hospital in the end. Their slow pop-punk, chinos, and ‘hip’ tattoos (one looked like a dinosaur/my little pony hybrid) were enough to put anybody into a stupor. I left after two songs, feeling as battered as a Poppie’s sausage.

I went to check out the highly acclaimed King Charles at The Electric Ballroom, a venue far too large for such introspective indie. The weird Peter Gabriel/Vampire Weekend imitation was totally unsuitable for a rock festival. Their image is all that distinguished them from any other banal indie tripe out there (the frontman had quite nice hair) and once they brought three 18 year old twigs on stage to gyrate and play the tambourine on their last song I was done.

Nightmare festival was fantastically varied and really great value for money (£20 for tons of bands…um yes please!), I’d thoroughly recommend it! I’m writing this review under the influence of a substantial amount of codeine after a full day at A&E…was it worth it? I don’t know, maybe? I’m off my tits.