Green Man 2014

Packing a punch early on is hooded Swede Alice Boman, who splays her Nord keyboard over hardback books in the Rough Trade tent. Playing an impromptu set of brooding, Grouper-meets-Lykke Li tearjerkers, it’s intense stuff, with muffled synth sounds that bounce around as if echoed through a quarry and a heavily tremolo’d vocal. A far cry from All We Are, the LIPA grads (that’s the institution that also brought us the, er, Wombats) who make loopy pop funk which combines towering riffs, gloopy bass-lines and sexy, slinky beats. And totally straightforward in comparison to challenging, well-spoken art-poppers Adult Jazz, who play next, singing in expressive falsettos through multiple mics, boogying crookedly to awkward time signatures, and parping on trombones. ‘Spook’ is a sprawling, if warped epic.

“Waaassuuup”, he bellows, bumbling on stage in a Simpsons tee and swigging from the bottle. It can only be Mac Demarco, who later brings his exhilarating live show to the Far Out tent. Swerving carelessly from warmly bedroom synth-pop to charging garage funk (or “jizz jazz”, as he’d have it), replete with glammy guitar solos, bumpin’ bass and the trademark loveable slur, Demarco offers an hour of repetitive formulae. But formulae that work; the band look like they’ve just woken up, their faces painted smurf-blue, and their frontman’s bonkers. Of course it was going to work.

Headlining the same stage are Caribou, who get the whole crowd throwing shapes. Focused, and in bleached attire, Dan Snaith and his gang huddle around their synths as though at the Round Table, or mission control, or something. They play to each other, rather than the crowd, and the result is no doubt the best set of the weekend. Tunes of a heady, psychedelic nature are built up bit-by-bit around ear-splitting bass chords, clattering disco drums, accessible hooks and twisted, clicky electronics. ‘Odessa’ is a boingy wonder to behold, and new tracks ‘Our Love’ and ‘Can’t Do Without You’ are live house music at its best. The 2 Bears follow, playing cuts from the funnier regions of techno, house and disco, but it doesn’t quite have the same edge.

Angel Olsen is a miserable but absorbing presence on Saturday afternoon. Cushioned by lilting bass and ghostly guitar, her voice is even more potent live than on record, and her lyrics come across all the more trenchant. Moving from powerful, stentorian theatrics to more hushed moments of repose, it’s a masterful display of versatility, from gritty raspiness to broken, Sandy Denny-like fragility. Less of an ordeal are Woman’s Hour, who replicate the cover for recent album ‘Conversations’ by festooning the stage with four oblong white pyramids. Their set is all about casual Stratocaster lines, simple, swaying bass and singer Fiona Burgess’ movingly delicate vocal.

Montréal’s Ought, meanwhile, are the most exciting new band we see. Much like Parquet Courts, they’re an unseemly bunch of weedy, slightly unhealthy looking scallywags who craft a Pavement-inspired blend of chugging stoner rock and wilder, more feverish punk. There’s Malkmus-style enjambement from charismatic ringleader Tim Beeler, who looks and sounds like a public school Stooges fan with all his dramatic, distorted guitar solos and jerky on-stage cavorting; he’s brilliant. The call-and-response chant of “the change / I want it / the change / I want it” is also a call to arms. Similarly euphoric is the set from Philadelphia's The War On Drugs, who hit the main stage just after sunset. The show is 70 minutes long and they play eight songs tops. Self-indulgent noodling? Nah, relentless, stadium-ready rockouts with motorik beats, genius baritone sax and non-ironic harmonica interludes. As the wind blows his hair over his face, lynchpin Adam Granduciel resembles a Springsteen lite (minus the air-punching). But when not ridiculously overblown, his music swerves into the marvellous, spaced-out territories sometimes occupied by Dan Bejar’s Destroyer.

Shortly afterwards, Slint prove they’re still a force to be reckoned with, as they headline the Far Out tent. In an intense performance comprising largely heavy, unsettling instrumentals from their 'Spiderland' masterpiece, the post-rock behemoths meld crunching barre chords, stacks of feedback and a heavy kit sound together with haunting spoken word sections. With blood-curdling trebly bass and crescendos aplenty, the four-piece live band are energisingly gloomy. And they freak the hell out of anyone who went along expecting anything but a blaring onslaught.

Sunday is all about the new talent, with an impressive line-up of fast-rising, blog-friendly musical innovators. First up is precocious 17-year-old Vancouver Sleep Clinic, whose fragile, confessional bedroom pop à la Youth Lagoon coolly wins over the midday crowd. With a staggering falsetto reminiscent of Asgéir or Justin Vernon, bubbling synths and soft, hi-hat heavy beats, a slowed-down rendition of ‘Hold On, We’re Going Home’ by Drake is brilliant; he’s made for bigger venues. Also promising are Icelandic trio Samaris, who go for the fairy look: dressed in tinsel, their faces glittered. With an odd set-up of a man playing trip-hop beats and funky ‘Big Time Sensuality’ bass in the background, while forlorn clarinet and medieval Icelandic poetry are added over the top, we have no idea what they’re saying, but it’s fun enough to watch. Best, though, are the sisters in Hockeysmith, who transfer all the components of their Cornwall caravan-slash-rehearsal space to the live stage with ferocious bite. Staring into each other’s eyes throughout, with scratchy samples and unremitting bass at the foundation, vocally they veer from ominous soulfulness to bouncy, sweet-toothed R&B. Truly unique.

The most triumphant set of the weekend comes courtesy of another, slightly more huggable pair of sisters, in First Aid Kit. Four years on from their appearance on the rather modest Walled Garden stage, Johanna and Klara play to the biggest crowd the main stage welcomes all weekend. When not finishing each other’s sentences in between tracks, they play an immaculately executed, career-spanning set that gets everyone a-jigging. Namely, the rousing country of opener ‘Stay Gold’ proves an early highlight, as does a cover of Jack White’s 'Love Interruption’, and an all-together-now sing-a-long of ‘Emmylou’ is unabashedly sweet. It’s the ultimate close for a glorious weekend of verdant, laid back, family-friendly fun. And as the notoriously cranky Jeff Mangum of Neutral Milk Hotel puts it a little later: ‘[Green Man] is a beautiful festival. Very humane.’

Tags: Caribou, Green Man, Festivals, Reviews, Live Reviews