Standing behind a clear perspex podium, sporting some fresh facial hair and holding one of the most battered-looking gee-tars in the business, lo-fi ‘anti-folk‘ hero Jeffrey Lewis apologised to a packed crowd in the Latitude Festival’s Poetry Arena for the last-minute cancellation of  his eagerly-awaited lecture on the seminal comic-book, Watchmen.  It was scheduled to take place earlier that day and -- after providing a grim, poignant and sometimes harrowing account of why he couldn’t make it -- Lewis offered to make up for his regrettable no-show by doing something rather special after the gig:

He’d sit under a tree and “blabber on” about Watchmen to anyone who might want to listen.

Which, of course, is just the sort of thing you’d expect Jeffrey Lewis to do.   Lewis, in case you don’t know, is a singer-songwriter and comic-book artist from New York who combines the two disciplines to great effect.  His songs and spoken word pieces are delivered in an idiosyncratic, fast-talking style and many of them feature his comic-strips as an accompaniment (he calls them “low-budget videos”).  The bulk of his late-night acoustic set consisted of brand-new, straight-out-of-the-oven songs that had yet to be field-tested in front of a live audience.   The fresh material dealt with grim, poignant and sometimes harrowing stuff, but -- thanks to his endearing awkwardness, fiendishly-clever wordplay and self-deprecating humour -- the gig was anything but a downer.

New converts were won over with a cover of Pink Floyd’s Sheep and a painfully-funny gangsta rap about killing mosquitoes, subject matters that were bound to strike a chord with the Latitude set.  Old fans, meanwhile, were treated to his poignant back-catalogue favourite,  When I Was 4, which reduced many of them to blubbering wrecks.  By the time this wonderful little gig was over, most of us had forgotten about the promise Lewis made at the beginning of the set.  After a long and exhausting day -- with another Latitude set lined up for Sunday afternoon -- no reasonable person could expect him to waste time searching for a vacant tree so he could sit under it and “blabber on” about his favourite comic book.

So he held an impromptu post-gig Watchmen Q&A outside the Poetry Arena, instead.

Here’s the wonderful Jeffrey Lewis performing at the Latitude Festival’s Poetry Arena in the wee small hours of 19th July 2009.

Review to follow.

Low-Budget Detective Film:

Whistle Past The Graveyard:

Birthday Party Song:

There’s more where this came from.

Sounding like Talking Heads and looking like Devo-with-ASBOs, they are the mighty Datarock.  I wrote about their Latitude Festival set in a previous post, and here’s some footage of it that I took with my nifty Kodak z6i pocket camcorder.

The migraine-inducing, shaky-cam effect isn’t some intentional stylistic embellishment aimed at recapturing the frenetic energy of the live music experience.  Rather, it was a direct result of my five year-old stepdaughter Lily sitting on my shoulders while dancing.

I’ve since found on YouTube the short film about a sheep that I was so dismissive towards it in my last post.  The film is called Peter and Ben and it’s directed by Pinny Grylls. It’s quite sweet and I feel rather guilty now.

Clare and Lily will certainly like it -- and maybe Baby Edie will, too.  They’d much prefer a short film about a sheep to a groundbreaking graphic novel.

I didn’t interview any performers at this year’s Latitude, but I did secure an exclusive post-festival chat with my five year-old stepdaughter, Lily.

Latitude 2009 was her very first music festival.

What did you think of Latitude?

It was very good!

What sort of things did you do there?

I played with Iris and I played in the Kids’ Area and wobbled my wobbly tooth and I heard lots of FUNKY MU-SIC!

Iris is your new Latitude friend.  Where did you meet her?

Beside my tent.

What sort of games did the two of you play?

Hiding behind the tents.

Did you enjoy the Kids’ Area?

Yes!  I did drawings and went on the Big Wheel and saw a juggler and hugged The Hugging Tree and jumped on the trampolines and left a message on the Tree of Lost Things and went on a bug hunt in the woods…

And what was your favourite music?

Grace Jones, the red ones with the red tracksuits on (Datarock), Nick Cave, Thomas…

Thomas?

Thomas on the stage, not you!

Oh, you mean Thom Yorke…

Of course, silly.

Finally – would you go to Latitude again?

Yes – and next year I’m going to be singing on stage!

During Thom Yorke’s rare solo performance on Sunday afternoon at the Latitude Festival’s Obelisk Arena, some misanthropic wag in the crowd said loudly:  “I wish they’d put the big screens on so we can see how bad his hair looks.”   I’m happy to say it wasn’t me.

I had mixed feelings about seeing Thom Yorke at Latitude, but it had nothing to do with the state of his hair or even the redundant ‘h’ in his forename.  It had been twelve years since I’d seen Radiohead for the first -- and, as it turned out, the last -- time.  That was at Glastonbury 1997, and their set was a moment of sublime and transcendent perfection for me.  I never saw them live again, in no small part because it was one of my all-time favourite live music experiences and I wanted it to stay that way.   I was also acutely aware that I still hadn’t found the money or time to buy or listen to his 2006 Radioheadless offering, The Eraser, and felt rather guilty about it.  I hear it’s very good, but as I haven’t heard it yet I can’t possibly comment.

I wasn’t planning to slip out early as the gig overlapped with the Jeffrey Lewis and the Junkyard set at the Music and Film Arena.  As it happened, Clare, Lily & I were so entranced by Thom Yorke’s performance -- which, yes, included Radiohead tracks like Everything in it’s Right Place, There There and Weird Fishes/Arpeggi -  that we decided to stay until the end.

After all, it had been twelve years since I last saw Radiohead.  It had only been twelve hours since I last saw Jeffrey Lewis.

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Here’s some Thom Yorke at Latitude YouTubery courtesy of various public-spirited (and better-positioned) festival-goers:

And here’s some more Jeffrey Lewis (and the Junkyard) courtesy of me:

I caught The Asteroids Galaxy Tour during Mark Lamaar’s now-traditional ‘God’s Jukebox’ showcase last night at this year’s Latitude Festival.  They come from Denmark and play an irresistible and infectious blend of 60s soul (there’s lots of horns!) and indie-tinged psychedelia.

I thought they were great.

Afternoon slots on a festival’s main stage can be a cruel and intimidating testing ground for up-and-coming performers.  What may sound great within the gloomy confines of a medium-sized urban venue can lose its impact when performed on a big field in broad daylight before a transient crowd of musical moochers.  It takes a certain calibre of artist to fill that space, make an impact and grab that crowd’s attention.

It takes someone like Patrick Wolf.

On Saturday afternoon, the 26 year-old multi-instrumentalist didn’t just fill Latitude’s Obelisk Arena; at times it felt as though the festival’s largest stage would struggle to contain his incandescent energy.  Wearing a monotone Union Jack-themed unitard which made him look like a demented splicing of Ziggy-era Bowie and Marvel Comics’ Captain Britain, he tore through a set of old and new tracks including  Accident & Emergency, Hard Times and The Libertine.  With just the right balance of camp flamboyance, charismatic cockiness and  I-belong-here swagger, Wolf delivered a compelling performance that had the audience eating out of his presumably finely-manicured hand.  If that wasn’t enough, he even managed to tease some sunlight out of an overcast sky.

A headline act in the making, then.

Patrick Wolf performing ‘Hard Times’ at the Latitude Festival on 18th July 2009.  Trial run for my Kodak z6i mini camcorder.  Review to follow.

Of the Patrick Wolf set, that is.  Not the camcorder.

Showing my Age part 2: Squeeze, Uncut Arena, 17th July 2009 

Let’s face it: Squeeze aren’t what you might call a fashionable band. 

Then again, I’m not what you might call a fashionable person.  So let me take this opportunity to fess-up and admit that I’ve always liked them.  My first 7″ single (look it up) was Cool For Cats,which I bought with my pocket money from what used to be the local branch of Woolworths(look that up, too).  Over the years I’ve got into numerous booze-fuelled disputes with musically-minded mates in which I’ve steadfastly defended the reputation of Deptford’s finest against naysayers, unbelievers and people who call me a Dadrock lackey.

So it goes without saying that I really enjoyed their reunion gig at Latitude Festival’s Uncut Arena last night.

Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook – the Lennon and McCartney of 80s chart-topping melodic pop, as far as I’m concerned - were reunited for what turned out to be a blistering assault on their back-catalogue.  Like many unfashionable bands, people often forget just how many of their songs have etched their way into our minds.  Last night, though, was a powerful reminder.  The likes of Up The Junction, Tempted and Black Coffee in Bed were all present and correct, but the highlight of the set was the double-barrelled assault of Is This Love and Cool For Cats.

More ammunition for those booze-fuelled disputes, then.