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Rockaway beach for me
Jan. 17th, 2020 11:33 amWhen ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
davidnottingham suggested going to Bognor in January, I said absolutely not. I wasn't going to waste my annual leave shivering in a chalet on the south coast. Then I had an epiphany, not at epiphany, but just before Xmas: I could go without taking any more time off from work. This seemed like a good idea at the time. At 4.30 on Monday morning, when a chalet party was still going on (in our chalet) and I had to get up 2 and a half hours later to walk through a gently lightening Bognor to the railway station to escape to East Croydon with other Bognorian refugees, it seemed rather foolish.
I always wanted to go to Butlins as a child, but my parents, who had been to Butlins as children, wanted to go to France and eat merguez and drink Beaujolais and so forth. This is the second one I've been to, the first being Minehead, but the Bognor iteration, despite having an architectural style best described as Nissan prison hut, is superior, with plant landscaping, speakers playing your fave indie hits as you walk along, actual restaurants.
They seem to be playing heavily on retro kitsch, there's a big photo of 1950s ladies on donkeys in our living room wall, and the furnishings are what might be called beach-hut vernacular - lots of blue painted wooden furniture. In the swimming pool, the slides are shaped like sticks of rock and Billy Butlin's famous slogan is painted across the wall in white capitals I wonder what percentage of the income is from families during school holidays and how much from ska weekenders, northern soul weekenders, I heart 90s weekenders, indie weekenders. However, Butlins has not anticipated the needs of the average indie. The coffee shop and Diner both run out of veggie food on the Saturday. The shop and bar sell a swathe of Heineken and Fosters (these are not the drinks au choix of the liberal elite). The single use plastic memo doesn't seem to have reached them: the dance floor is awash with placcy glasses by 10 p.m., a veritable fatberg of oil based receptacles. The staff though are highly cheerful and friendly (perhaps they get promoted to Red Coat in the summer season), no dickhead security guys, the receptionist gives us a cheery wave when we enter or exit the compound, the housekeeping staff are polite about everybody still being in bed at 10 a.m., and I feel a bit aggrieved on their behalf each time a band takes the piss from the stage - not everyone can make a career out of playing the guitar. Then again, Butlins is a Brexit donor so every pint not bought (we re-up in the chalet) is less money going to Nigel Farage's slush fund.
The crowd here is old - at 46, I am probably the median avg age. As well as the seats at the back of the venue being permanently occupied, people watch the bands, they don't take endless photos or selfies, or film the gig. No-one has brought their kids (or grandkids). There are no girls in glitter or daisy flower crowns (although some people have Bowie zigs as it's his death day on the Friday), no fancy dress; instead there are proper old school 80s goths who look like they haven't left Leeds since 2002 (the inflatables in the pool are eyeballs instead of beachballs, Velvet Underground bananas, bats), rockabillies, punk undertakers, the omnipresent AF gang (like a more zealous version of the Crips or the Bloods). Basically if you dropped a bomb now, 90% of 6Music's listenership would be wiped out.
Some bands we saw:
Black Country New Road I am the right hormonal profile to be attracted by, if not to, an anguished young male singer, with a sort of jazz drone rock guitar backing.
Self-esteem Like TLC with an EDM backing after reading a Caitlin Moran book. Amongst other things, we learn that:
Soak Sweet voiced girl indiepop, sounding like early Lush or the Heart-throbs. Indeed, there are lot of bands here for whom Britpop never happened, a perpetual 1992. Other things to note is that apart from Fontaines, the headliners, every other band we see are girl bands or girl/boy bands.
Our Girl Charming dream pop.
Sweet Release of Death Babes in Pearl Jam.
I missed Princesteen, who apparently did Prince songs in the style of Bruce Springsteen, which is quite obviously the wrong way about. Idea for a tribute band: Never Mind The Nirvana.
LIFE The lead singer has the hand movements of Jarvis Cocker, the insouciance of Ian Brown, the deadpan delivery of Ian Curtis and the passion of Joe Strummer. They did punky pop. In good times, dance music, in bad times, it's punk. When Johnny Rotten sang about no future, there were still council houses, or cheap to buy housing, student grants, dole money, arts council grants, some decent jobs, and the opportunity to live or study abroad, Now what is there for the under-30s? When the likes of Jarvis C sings that cunts are still running the world, he does so with the cushioning of PRS royalties, a 6Musc job and a Channel 4 documentary series. If this lot sing it, they mean it. I did start to feel at one point that these youngsters entertaining us oldsters were a bit like pre-civil rights black Americans singing and dancing for the amusement of the white middle classes. We take their energy and fervour and anger for ourselves. Choose LIFE!
Jesus and Mary Chain are so polite. I didn't expect them to be kicking over monitors and smashing their guitars, but Jim Reid (still a hottie, unlike his brother) whispers thanks after each song, even seems a little charmed that people wanna hear songs from over 30 years ago. I kind of miss the days when having the right fringe was everything, Of course, when I was 14, I'd never heard the Sonics, Suicide or The Stooges, so didn't realise the JAMC weren't quite as original as I thought. The fabulous Reverence even has the same bassline as I wanna be your dog.
International Teachers Of Pop Like Human League met Miss Kittin in an electroclash club on top of a big pile of MDMA. The keyboardist does a Hillsborough joke (too soon?) and tries to get a chant of "Boggy Boggy Boggy, oi oi oi" going, with mixed results.
Brix and the Extricated. The Dominixbrix stalks the stage, pulling imaginary wire from guitars, singing songs for "all the witches" (I am quite worried that I'm going to hit 50 and start telling people I can do spells or reading Tarot), but her co-written Fall songs (Dead Beat Descendent! Totally Wired!) were unfortunately better than her new material.
Fontaines DC. Pretty gloomy and goth, the highlight being the sublime and jangly Boys From The Better Land: "I got face like sin and a heart like a James Joyce novel":
davidnottingham suggested going to Bognor in January, I said absolutely not. I wasn't going to waste my annual leave shivering in a chalet on the south coast. Then I had an epiphany, not at epiphany, but just before Xmas: I could go without taking any more time off from work. This seemed like a good idea at the time. At 4.30 on Monday morning, when a chalet party was still going on (in our chalet) and I had to get up 2 and a half hours later to walk through a gently lightening Bognor to the railway station to escape to East Croydon with other Bognorian refugees, it seemed rather foolish.I always wanted to go to Butlins as a child, but my parents, who had been to Butlins as children, wanted to go to France and eat merguez and drink Beaujolais and so forth. This is the second one I've been to, the first being Minehead, but the Bognor iteration, despite having an architectural style best described as Nissan prison hut, is superior, with plant landscaping, speakers playing your fave indie hits as you walk along, actual restaurants.
They seem to be playing heavily on retro kitsch, there's a big photo of 1950s ladies on donkeys in our living room wall, and the furnishings are what might be called beach-hut vernacular - lots of blue painted wooden furniture. In the swimming pool, the slides are shaped like sticks of rock and Billy Butlin's famous slogan is painted across the wall in white capitals I wonder what percentage of the income is from families during school holidays and how much from ska weekenders, northern soul weekenders, I heart 90s weekenders, indie weekenders. However, Butlins has not anticipated the needs of the average indie. The coffee shop and Diner both run out of veggie food on the Saturday. The shop and bar sell a swathe of Heineken and Fosters (these are not the drinks au choix of the liberal elite). The single use plastic memo doesn't seem to have reached them: the dance floor is awash with placcy glasses by 10 p.m., a veritable fatberg of oil based receptacles. The staff though are highly cheerful and friendly (perhaps they get promoted to Red Coat in the summer season), no dickhead security guys, the receptionist gives us a cheery wave when we enter or exit the compound, the housekeeping staff are polite about everybody still being in bed at 10 a.m., and I feel a bit aggrieved on their behalf each time a band takes the piss from the stage - not everyone can make a career out of playing the guitar. Then again, Butlins is a Brexit donor so every pint not bought (we re-up in the chalet) is less money going to Nigel Farage's slush fund.
The crowd here is old - at 46, I am probably the median avg age. As well as the seats at the back of the venue being permanently occupied, people watch the bands, they don't take endless photos or selfies, or film the gig. No-one has brought their kids (or grandkids). There are no girls in glitter or daisy flower crowns (although some people have Bowie zigs as it's his death day on the Friday), no fancy dress; instead there are proper old school 80s goths who look like they haven't left Leeds since 2002 (the inflatables in the pool are eyeballs instead of beachballs, Velvet Underground bananas, bats), rockabillies, punk undertakers, the omnipresent AF gang (like a more zealous version of the Crips or the Bloods). Basically if you dropped a bomb now, 90% of 6Music's listenership would be wiped out.
Some bands we saw:
Black Country New Road I am the right hormonal profile to be attracted by, if not to, an anguished young male singer, with a sort of jazz drone rock guitar backing.
Self-esteem Like TLC with an EDM backing after reading a Caitlin Moran book. Amongst other things, we learn that:
Soak Sweet voiced girl indiepop, sounding like early Lush or the Heart-throbs. Indeed, there are lot of bands here for whom Britpop never happened, a perpetual 1992. Other things to note is that apart from Fontaines, the headliners, every other band we see are girl bands or girl/boy bands.
Our Girl Charming dream pop.
Sweet Release of Death Babes in Pearl Jam.
I missed Princesteen, who apparently did Prince songs in the style of Bruce Springsteen, which is quite obviously the wrong way about. Idea for a tribute band: Never Mind The Nirvana.
LIFE The lead singer has the hand movements of Jarvis Cocker, the insouciance of Ian Brown, the deadpan delivery of Ian Curtis and the passion of Joe Strummer. They did punky pop. In good times, dance music, in bad times, it's punk. When Johnny Rotten sang about no future, there were still council houses, or cheap to buy housing, student grants, dole money, arts council grants, some decent jobs, and the opportunity to live or study abroad, Now what is there for the under-30s? When the likes of Jarvis C sings that cunts are still running the world, he does so with the cushioning of PRS royalties, a 6Musc job and a Channel 4 documentary series. If this lot sing it, they mean it. I did start to feel at one point that these youngsters entertaining us oldsters were a bit like pre-civil rights black Americans singing and dancing for the amusement of the white middle classes. We take their energy and fervour and anger for ourselves. Choose LIFE!
Jesus and Mary Chain are so polite. I didn't expect them to be kicking over monitors and smashing their guitars, but Jim Reid (still a hottie, unlike his brother) whispers thanks after each song, even seems a little charmed that people wanna hear songs from over 30 years ago. I kind of miss the days when having the right fringe was everything, Of course, when I was 14, I'd never heard the Sonics, Suicide or The Stooges, so didn't realise the JAMC weren't quite as original as I thought. The fabulous Reverence even has the same bassline as I wanna be your dog.
International Teachers Of Pop Like Human League met Miss Kittin in an electroclash club on top of a big pile of MDMA. The keyboardist does a Hillsborough joke (too soon?) and tries to get a chant of "Boggy Boggy Boggy, oi oi oi" going, with mixed results.
Brix and the Extricated. The Dominixbrix stalks the stage, pulling imaginary wire from guitars, singing songs for "all the witches" (I am quite worried that I'm going to hit 50 and start telling people I can do spells or reading Tarot), but her co-written Fall songs (Dead Beat Descendent! Totally Wired!) were unfortunately better than her new material.
Fontaines DC. Pretty gloomy and goth, the highlight being the sublime and jangly Boys From The Better Land: "I got face like sin and a heart like a James Joyce novel":
