Tramlines 2018 - Part Two

Saturday 21st July (cont.)

So you find us at the main stage discussing BBR's set and our next move. We were waiting for the band to finish their many press duties to come out and be introduced to many, many people. One of the several Jimmy Mac's there that weekend joined us briefly. The beer was still flowing as was the JD. It was already getting messy. The sun was well over the yardarm (I have no idea what that means and have no idea if I've used it correctly. I didn't even realise yardarm was one word). The RedFaces were playing some pleasant jangly indie guitar, my hat was getting all the plaudits it merits and all was well with the world. The only things on my list (you have to have a Tramlines list. It'll go to pot of course but it gives you a slight sense of having a clue as to what the fuck you're doing) were one of Cora Pearl's sets that day and a Bang Bang Romeo live session at BBC Radio Sheffield for the legendary Christian Carlisle and his equally legendary BBC Introducing show. 

RedFaces came and went without me paying them the attention they probably deserved to be followed by The Everly Pregnant Brothers, the most Sheffield band ever to exist. To really be a quality comedy music act you need two things: Funny lyrics (naturally) and the musicianship to back it up. I think the sheer musical talent of TEPB sometimes gets lost behind the lyrics but it really shouldn't be underestimated. They are joined on stage by the Lord Mayor of Sheffield, Magid Magid himself, for their last song ('No Oven, No Pie'). Not a band I'd ever sit and listen to at home but immense fun live.

By now everyone's rounded up. BBR had to head to the BBC so me, Chris and the Marks decided to jump in a taxi and catch some of the fringe, namely Bungalows And Bears for Cora Pearl to start with. Cora Pearl are less than a year old, have just the two singles under their belt but are already making waves on the Sheffield music scene. This was the first chance I'd had to catch them live (after promising to several times). The singles are both excellent ('Hope Machine' in particularly is exquisite) but on this showing there is even better to come. Despite the heat there is a frenetic energy on stage as the band deliver rock fused indie grunge banger after banger, with a superb 'Psycho Killer' cover thrown in for good measure. They're already a class act and definitely one to look out for.

We retired to the back of Bungalow and Bears to try and get some air where Chris fended off constant 'I know you don't I?' questions and I grilled him (again) about Diane Keen. One of us (shamefully not me) was always going to the bar. (Chaps I had an interview yesterday. If I get the job the drinks are most definitely on me). Despite the huge numbers up at Hillsborough Park Sheffield city centre was still rammed. Time to jump in another taxi and head down to the BBC studios.

Before BBR's set Christian did a little bit of housekeeping, reminding us we were live on air, make as much noise as you want but no swearing please. No problem, I've got 9 years of presenting live radio under my belt, it's not an issue. A chilled and laid back set from the band yet they still deliver with the intensity of a main stage slot. That's a gift in itself.

No idea if it comes across or not but I seriously love this band. My good friend, festival partner, drinking buddy and all round top bloke had been missing all day due to illness but manage to rouse himself to get down just in time for the group photo shoot at which point some tall bell-end in a bright orange hat shouted. 'It's only fucking Sam Craggs!' Live on air. 9 years experience down the drain right there. I can only apologise. I'm gonna blame the JD.

Next up was The Washington for Kiziah And The Kings preceded by a very drunken conversation as to just how we were getting there and who was going with who. Once again it was Chris, the Marks and I who rolled into a taxi and headed to the last venue of the day. They were queueing to get in. Someone suggested trying the detestable 'Do you know who I am' line but I was fully aware that I was in no state to even utter those 6 words, Chris was but point blank refused. Good man. We got in to another heaving sweat box, probably the hottest venue of the day. I bumped into a couple of The Strawberries who had just finished their set with a promise I'd see them on the Sunday. Stumbled across Will from Cora Pearl and bent his ear about how magnificent they were before taking up my spot at the back of the tightly packed room with Mark (Rewind Mark etc). KATK have finally nailed their sound. The addition of a sax player has been long overdue. Their soulful reggae infused pop is the perfect end to the day. Sadly there wasn't enough room to skank. I say sadly, I'm sure had I tried I'd have fallen over.

The heat was getting unbearable and I think it was partly that, the wedding he'd been at the previous day and today's shenanigans that prompted Mark (Rewind etc) to call it a day and make the very sensible decision to get the last train. Why oh why oh why didn't I go with him!? I sweated some more before heading for the sanctuary of the beer garden. Mark (Photographer) having inexplicably managed to get some quality shots inside was asleep on a bench, Stars was arm wrestling all and sundry, Ross, despite the temperature, was just looking cool while Chris rescued me from a very deep conversation I'd got embroiled in about the power of music to save your soul, a worthy topic of conversation but not at 1am when your addled brain isn't even sure what the word conversation means. A sudden thud behind us indicated Mark had vacated his position on the bench to fall face forward onto the concrete. Surprisingly this woke him up. I've seen this man sleep leaning on a tent pole. We decided home may well be a good idea and myself and Mark staggered out leaving the rest of our compadres to party.

Obviously a taxi home to Doncaster was the only option. My phone had died and neither of us were capable of operating Mark's phone. I hit on a plan. My mate Zoe had mentioned a party back at hers so the plan was to get a taxi there, hope the party was still in full swing and plead with Zoe to phone us a taxi. Thankfully that's what happened although we hung around for a bit as Mark slept for a bit more and I had one final beer while discussing football rivalries with Zoe's son in law to be, Joe. Our taxi arrived and we were bundled in. 'Doncaster please mate'. 'Where's that?' 'Er, what!?' After drunkenly explaining the M18 we finally got home, 3am ish, very worse for wear. Steady day my arse. And we had to do it all again tomorrow.