Hop Farm Festival

Now in its fourth year, the Hop Farm Festival has a very simple underlying idea: to mix together, as much as possible, the great artists of the past who haven't yet lost their taste for playing live and the more current names, whether already established or still relatively unknown. At the moment, all this takes place in a fairly small space with a crowd size that keeps things very comfortable, though there's no guarantee it will stay that way. Organizer Vince Power, in fact, makes no secret of his ambition to grow the festival to the size of the UK's biggest events.

While we wait to see whether that plan comes to fruition, it's extremely pleasant to enjoy performances from artists of real substance in complete comfort, without having to elbow your way to food, drink, the toilets, or a decent spot in front of the various stages. It would be a bit of a shame to lose that added value, but it's also fair enough for organizers to develop an event however they see fit.

Yours truly attended on Saturday July 2nd, whose mix of old glories and rising young acts was particularly appealing. The coach ride from London takes longer to get out of the chaotic city than it does to cover the stretch of road from the edge of the capital to the farm in Kent. Still, there's no rush, and there's all the time in the world to get your bearings around the site, unwind with a good beer and/or cider, and start taking in the shows in complete peace.

Things kick off on the main stage with Viva Brother, who used to be called simply Brother and were recently forced to change their name after a band with the same name sued them. Their debut album is due in September, but the band is already generating plenty of buzz in the UK, partly thanks to the press's attempts to cast their rivalry with the Vaccines in the mould of Oasis vs Blur. The quintet's sound can easily be summed up in a single word: britpop. During their half-hour set, in fact, plenty of bands associated with that movement come to mind, ranging from universally known names like Suede and, inevitably, Oasis and Blur, to more niche acts like Shed Seven, Mansun and Strangelove. The band's weak point, then, is a distinct lack of originality, though the sheer range of reference points at least makes it hard to predict what to expect from them. The quintet's melodic sense already seems well developed, even if decent verses aren't always followed by choruses memorable enough to be easily sung along to by large crowds - a crucial element for a band like this. As for the live performance, there's already a solid overall tightness and just the right mix of precision and energy. In short, there's some quality here, but plenty of room for improvement too. The real test will come with the release of the album: it will be crucial to see whether the songs can strike the right chord with britpop nostalgics, who, in 2011, are still numerous, and not just in Britain.

From a bunch of wannabe britpoppers we move to a band that actually made britpop history: the Bluetones, now on their final dates before their planned split at the end of September. Mark Morriss and co. have never lacked honesty, starting with their attempt to present themselves in the simplest, most direct way possible, even once record sales became far less impressive than they were at the start. It's also honest of them to call it quits now, with last year's album having gone largely unnoticed and their look no longer that of young lads. "This one's from last year's album, so you probably haven't heard it," Morriss says candidly, introducing the title track "A New Athens", and a few songs later he adds: "As you probably know, these are our last shows - you can see for yourselves that we're old now and it's starting to get ridiculous." There's actually nothing ridiculous about the way the band plays its classics - quite the opposite, the songs are performed with tremendous energy and skill, sounding thoroughly polished with no trace of the years gone by. "Bluetonic", "Keep Your Home Fires Burning", "Marblehead Johnson", "Never Going Nowhere", "Slight Return", "If…": these titles alone would be enough to send shivers down the spine of every nostalgic mentioned above, and it should also be said that everything was played and sung simply to perfection, rounding off a thoroughly thrilling half hour.

Next up on the day's bill are Magazine. As is well known, only Howard Devoto remains from the original line-up, and indeed the frontman jokes with the crowd more than once, reminding them that what's on stage is Magazine version 6.0. Devoto is a likeable, chatty frontman, which honestly wasn't quite what you'd expect given the dark, acidic, cutting sound that has always defined the band's history in its various incarnations. What matters most, though, is that those very qualities still come through in this live version, and tracks like "Motorcade", "Shot by Both Sides", "A Song from Under the Floorboards" and "Definitive Gaze", among others, carry all the necessary energy and emotion, helped along by the leader's excellent vocal form - he sings truly beautifully. Sure, it's never great when someone trades on a band's name to draw attention to a project that has little real connection to it, but hearing these songs live still makes for a wonderful, intense journey through a musical style that has had, and continues to have, enormous influence.

Now it's time for Patti Smith's acoustic set. The so-called high priestess of rock takes the stage with an acoustic guitar, accompanied by her trusty Lenny Kaye on another acoustic, a musician switching between piano and harmonica, and none other than Patrick Wolf on violin and harp. The sound is therefore understated, but that doesn't make it thin or bare - its quiet undercurrent of vitality is the best vehicle for bringing out the intensity of the frontwoman's delivery. Smith and her band know how to carry the listener into another dimension, one in which the message the artist carried mattered just as much as the music itself, and for anyone who didn't live through that era, watching couples in their sixties and beyond tenderly embracing to the strains of "Ghost Dance" or "Pissing in a River" says more than any theoretical discussion ever could. Sure, when Patti takes on the role of orator and calls for unity among people, it does feel a touch anachronistic in 2011, but perhaps taking such values for granted is the quickest way to lose them, so it's no bad thing to have someone remind us of them now and then. The set closes with two heavyweight numbers, "Because the Night" and "Gloria", with the crowd singing along and a longing for peace and love running through everyone.

At this point, as we head into late afternoon, a choice imposes itself: keep following the old glories or move on to the current names? Partly to respect the spirit of the festival, which calls precisely for a mix, and partly because the old glories on the bill right now (Lou Reed, Gang Of Four, Iggy & The Stooges) are all acts I've already seen, without this occasion being likely to offer anything new, I head to the third stage and give myself over to the here and now.

I arrive and Cloud Control are already playing. This Australian band belongs to that group of young acts who haven't yet managed to capture their talent on record, coming across far better live. Their debut "Bliss Release", in fact, alternates good moments with stretches that are merely serviceable, but even the best tracks in the studio pale next to their on-stage renditions. Put simply, the band could be described as a poppier version of Arcade Fire, thanks to the subtle balance between sound-building and the fluidity of the songs, all wrapped in a clearly epic mood. Compared to the hugely established Canadian collective, Cloud Control bring a lighter touch overall, both in the arrangements and in the linear way the songs unfold. Where on record the fullness of sound and emotional intensity often remain little more than good intentions, live they turn into solid reality, and it's easy for the audience to be enveloped and swept along by performances that shine on every level, vocal harmonies included. Let's hope experience, and perhaps a producer up to the task, will let these guys take flight on record too: we'd all deserve it, musicians and listeners alike; in the meantime, the advice is simple - don't miss their shows whenever you get the chance.

For Leisure Society the situation isn't the easiest: both Lou Reed and Gang Of Four are in the thick of their sets at the same time, so the crowd gathered in front of their stage isn't exactly huge. I don't know what I'd have got out of choosing differently (word is of a subdued Lou Reed, but a stunning show from Gang Of Four), but being here proves an extremely rewarding choice. It was already known that the live shows of the collective led by Nick Henning and Christian Hardy are more energetic than the songs sound on record, and now that the recent "Into The Murky Water" has added more punch and sturdiness to their sound, the live renditions become simply irresistible and overwhelming. There's not much more to say: whether they play the new songs or ones from their debut "The Sleeper", the brightness and verve of the sound are utterly all-consuming, and people never stop smiling, moving and dancing in groups formed even by strangers to one another. Henning and Hardy also prove to be skilled entertainers, sending the crowd into even greater raptures. There's still room, though, for more introspective moments, handled of course with just the right dose of disenchantment, without the positive vibrations ever losing their power. A genuine triumph, in short, and it's hard to imagine things going any differently even in front of a much bigger crowd. Let's hope the band gets the right opportunities, because they certainly have everything it takes to seize them.

The last band in my trio of current names is the best known: Guillemots, who with the recent "Walk The River" have reached their third album. Fyfe Dangerfield's creation manages a decent set, though it leaves some doubts about how the songs have been chosen to be interpreted. One of Guillemots' strengths is the variety of their arrangements, but there's no trace of that in these live versions: the sound comes across much more simplified and pumped up compared to what you hear on record, and above all it doesn't change one bit from song to song. The two guitars, Fyfe's keyboard and the rhythm section all play their parts with the same style and the same power throughout. Of course the songs still come off well, and how could they not given the beauty of both the melodies and the frontman's voice, but this excessive uniformity doesn't do the overall quality of the set any favours. If Guillemots are starting to flatten out, that's certainly not good news, so, going forward, it would be good to see the band lean back into their sonic dynamism live as well.

The evening can only close with Morrissey, especially given the competition, hardly fearsome, from Manu Chao and Carl Barat. Moz delivers a show fit for a thousand and one nights, even though he doesn't give much away to the crowd in strictly visual terms. His trademark stage moves and the shirts flung into the audience are by now just a memory, and the man limits himself to a relaxed swagger around the stage. The upside of this conservation of physical energy is a spectacular vocal performance, and for the audience, hearing him sing with a perfect mix of conviction and interpretive sensitivity is the greatest joy of all. Add to that a band that, ever more solid by now, plays with the same drive, and it's easy to see why this show turns out to be, without doubt, the best of the day. Nor should we forget a setlist close to perfection, featuring no fewer than six Smiths songs and the ability to alternate universally known tracks with others cherished only by diehard fans, true of both his solo career and the repertoire of his former band. There's no point listing songs or trying to pin down the most thrilling moments: just read the setlist printed to the left of this article to understand for yourself what this show must have meant. Moz is also in good spirits, declares his love for this festival, calling it the best in England, describes himself and his band as humble slaves to the audience, and the only angry moment comes with the performance of "Meat Is Murder", its lyrics altered to make the attack on meat-eaters even more savage.

A fitting conclusion to a great day of music and rural atmosphere, for a festival that, just as it is, deserves nothing but applause. Who knows what the reaction will be if and when it changes.

Photos by Elisa Croci

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