Cultureberg at Latitude 2016.  Nothing new under the sun, but so what?

Cultureberg made their occasional festival trip this July to Latitude Festival in Southwold, this being the fifth trip in its eleven year incarnation.  You know pretty much what to expect.  Though we did not espy matriarchs in multi colour wellies striding through the mud holding their Victoria Sponge aloft and inviolate, the sheep were dyed pink, Ollie, Archie and Daisy got their faces painted and their hair spiked whilst their big sibs enjoyed a gap weekend weaving through the crowds like a Home Counties Von Trappe family,obliviously making their rightful way to their place at the front.  How could one wish to not remain in a place like this.

If Glastonbury has become the Tesco of festivals and Leeds and Reading the Aldi then Latitude retains and consolidates its Waitrose banner.  I do not carp as we consumed as many ten pound cocktails as the next person in the Blixen tent and the uniquely good weather made the experience convivial in the extreme.  Like any dependable brand Latitude came through with a slightly altered mix of old favourites and tempting new brands.  In part one I'll try to focus on the up and coming acts which tickled Culturebergs taste buds and later waffle on about the more established and well-loved acts.


Methyl ethyl

I caught Methyl Ethyl on the small Sunrise arena on Sunday teatime after a frankly lacklustre afternoon of so-so bands, fart-flat comedy, thinking (as one does three days in) am I all music-d out?Not so, as the band with possibly the worst name in the programme delivered a scorching half hour of      high octane guitar rock.  Coming from Perth in Western Australia one is put in mind of Tame Impala's Kevin Parker and Luke Steele, especially in Sleepy Jackson mode, and perhaps hometown isolation leads to idiosyncrasy.  The band were recruited to flesh out the songs from debut album 'Oh Inhuman Spectacle', written played and produced by singer-guitarist Jake Webb, but the heft and brio that the rhythm section add to the songs made me wish they had all been on board.for the record.  Mr Webb himself looks like a young Tom Verlaine, though he plays his effects pedals as much as the guitar, and sings in a voice resembling Jeff Buckley and (sans vibrato) David Surkamp of 70s enigmas Pavlovs Dog.  Beneath the squall are solid melodic songs.  Checking the album out back home at Culturebergs Manor there is a strong current of textured dream pop and drifting serenity not present in a beefy and dynamic live set.  Songs like Rogues and Twilight Driving were memorable from first listening, and now seem almost sketches for their kinetic live performance.  A real highlight.


Protomartyr

Also on the Sunrise stage I caught Detroit's Protomartyr.  The programme alluded to Pere Ubu and The Fall,enough to draw me stage front.  The similarity might be as much attitudinal as musical as the music is loosely post punk with fairly bleak lyrical preoccupations.  The sound is tense and taut as though struggling to escape a claustrophobic existence, the guitarist reminding me of Robert Quine
But it was lead singer that was the focus.  He makes Van Morrison seem like a needy attention junkie,spitting lyrics between slugs from cans of Carlsberg, with a repetition and yelping directness that will have occaissioned the comparisons with MES.  The lyrics, however, are direct and understandable, unlike latter day Fall, and one detects a drive to communicate behind the lack of showbiz.  The singer wears an everyday jacket, trousers and sensible shoes, is mid thirties to the bands hairy youthfulness, and jabs his lyrics home.  Songs from recent album The Agent Intellect won the crowd over and Culturebergs left highly impressed.  As a footnote, also impressive was that the lead singer, having emptied three cans during the set put a can in each jacket pocket and left the stage with his debris.  Clearly Protomartyr embody a principled stance both on and offstage.


Estero s