2000 Trees – Day Four (see also Day One, Day Two and Day Three)
Upcote Farm, Cheltenham
10th – 13th July 2024
Following on from falling in love with 2000 Trees Festival last year, what’s probably the best festival in the UK makes a triumphant return to Upcote Farm. Louder Than War’s Dave Beech is there to see how things go.
And just like that, it’s the final day of Trees ‘24. Aching like only a fourth day of a festival can do to you, it’s a leisurely, though certainly not subdued start to the day, as we had over to The Cave for South Wales punks Pizzatramp. We arrive just at the trio announce that “This song’s called Long Songs Are Shit”, what follows is a short five second blast of abrasive punk that’s over before we’ve even processed it.
“This song,s called Metallica Are Fucking Shit”, they announce, before another brief blast of noise. And so it continues, (“Silent Discos are Are Fucking Shit”, “Autocorrect is Ducking Shut”,). It’s fairly one dimensional, but that doesn’t make it any less an entertaining way to kick things off.
Elsewhere, tracks such as My Back’s Fucking Fucked and Mr Slam are somewhat more traditional in song length and structure. But it’s the band’s tongue-in-cheek nature, and stories of magic mushrooms, silent discos and flooded tents that are perhaps the most memorable part of their set.
From there, a spontaneous trip over to the Neu stage finds us reaching for the earplugs as we head inside for Bristol trio Mould. Unsure of what to expect, the band are a blistering behemoth of both noise and melody, channelling the likes of Fugazi, High Vis and Fontaines DC perfectly. Having never heard of the band before, they’re a great discovery. A newer track seems a little less abrasive than other material on offer, but it goes down just as well as anything that it proceeds.
It’s back to The Forest now one of the biggest surprises of the weekend in the form of another band from Bristol, Tokyo Toy Company. An incredible blend of emo, math rock and indie-pop, it’s the perfect early afternoon se, and a far cry from the hilariously obnoxious Pizzatramp.
A cover of Vanessa Carlton’s A Thousand Miles is a nice touch and earns a singalong from a swelling crowd. It’s arguably their most streamed song, however, Mid-West Emo, that’s the stand out from their set. All jangly guitars and off-kilter time signatures, is does exactly what it says on the tin, providing the perfect appetiser for Michael Cera Palin next on the Axiom Stage…
…or it would have done if we were able to get in. Another case of completely misjudging the popularity of a certain band, much like Spanish Love Songs on Thursday, we hang around outside enough to see just why there’s a buzz about this band. Emotionally charged mid-west emo is something we’ve always appreciated, and it’s obvious we’re not the only ones.
With that however, it’s over to the Main Stage for Welsh punks Panic Shack. It isn’t the band’s first time at Trees, but as they gaze fondly out at the Main Stage crowd, they reminisce on how far they’ve come (figuratively) from playing the NEU Stage two years ago. “And now here we are, singing about tits!”.
Panic Shack are unapologetically female. With songs like Vape, Phone, Purse, Lipgloss, Baby and Meal Deal (“This song is about sandwiches”), they clearly don’t take themselves too seriously, but at the same time draw us in so that we’re hanging on, dancing to, laughing at, and, most importantly, relating to every word.
From where we’re standing, quite close to the stage, the bass drum is a little overpowering to start, and the reverb on the bass is a bit too much. However, the harmonising vocals and overall groove of the music shine through. Each member of the band is equally engaging to watch, but frontwoman Sarah Harvey really commands the stage.
At one point, the three women wielding the guitars drop to the floor, and lying on their backs they perform a synchronised swimming routine of sorts, whilst continuing to play. Jiu Jits You is another comedic triumph complete with some excellent ‘martial arts’ moves.
There are a lot of bands out there with a similar sound and with similar messages (not that it’s a complaint), but Panic Shack’s earnestness is so endearing that the set feels over far too soon. And as the four women at the front of the stage throw themselves to the ground as the last notes of Who’s Got My Lighter ring out, we’re completely charmed and looking forward to catching them again.
By the time we head back to the Main Stage to check out Canadian duo cleopatrick, the arena is beginning to fill up for the evening’s antics. They’re another band on the bill who we know little about, but enjoyed enough during our pre-festival listening parties that we opt to give them a go.
Vocalist Luke Gruntz delights the watching crowd by informing us that he saw on the news at the airport that there may be an extra bank holiday coming our way if England wins the Euros, which prompts a rousing chorus of “It’s Coming Home…”, soon drowned out by the start of a “newer song”, which is much more subdued to begin with that the previous few tracks they’ve played. In fact, we’re taken through a variety of tempos and genres over the proceeding 40 minutes or so, from more psych-y post punk, to bluesier riffs, to some heavier shoegaze, bordering on sludge.
They sound great, and musically we can’t fault them. But we can’t help but feel a disconnect between the two musicians on stage and the audience. Sure, there are those at the barrier who are clearly witnessing their set of the weekend, but generally there’s a lot more head-bobbing than actual singing and dancing along. But despite the lack of crowd interaction, the announcement that the two-piece will be back before the end of the year with new music is met by an appreciative cheer from many of the watching members of the crowd.
Drummer Ian Fraser steps out from behind his kit to stretch and take it all in whilst Gruntz’s feedback echoes. And just like that, without so much as a ‘See you next time’, they’re off, a member of crew running on to remove the setlists before the band has even left the stage. Chants of “One more song!” from the crowd quickly die as the whole crew descend on the stage and start loading out. A woman, clearly a fan, walks past us saying to her friend “That was sick!”.
We sort of get it, sort of don’t.
As we hot foot it over from the Main Stage to the Axiom for Creeper, a woman walks past with a bandage on her knee with ‘Don Broke-o’ written on it in marker pen, which causes much cackling amongst our group.
A feeling of deja vu sets in as we approach the tent and realise that we aren’t getting anywhere near it, so we once again accept that we’ll be listening to, rather than watching the goth rockers.
We’re welcomed into the Creeper cult by a speech from the band’s ‘vampire familiar’, Darcia, although we aren’t able to make much out other than “Put down the mud and pick up the blood”. There’s a huge roar from the crowd both inside and out as the band arrives on stage to the twinkly intro to nine-minute epic, Further Than Forever. It’s very Meatloaf; in fact, a couple standing in front of us start singing Bat Out Of Hell in perfect time. The sound quality isn’t the best, but that’s no slight on the band, as from where we’re standing it can’t be helped.
The experience is reminiscent of Creeper’s Download Festival set from 2022, when we barely managed to get anywhere close to the Avalanche Stage. The atmosphere inside a tent is probably ideal for their show, but it’s pretty clear that Creeper are a Main/Outdoor stage band nowadays, particularly at a festival of this size.
“From the gates of hell, we are Creeper”, proclaims frontman Will Gould as way of introduction. “Nah, you’re from Southampton mate”, we hear someone shout. What comes next is the more infectious ‘80s-style spooky glam rock of Teenage Sacrifice. It’s camp, it’s fun, it’s catchy.
Some call and response with the crowd leads into Down Below, and although we know we’re not getting the full Creeper experience from where we’re situated, we agree that surely they’ll be headlining this festival within a few years, if the rapid trajectory of their career continues.
They end with Cry to Heaven, a track that has been known as both a set opener and closer this festival season. Despite our less-than-ideal view, we’re as impressed as ever with the performance, and we decide that to get the full Creeper effect we’ll need to catch them at a venue on tour this year.
This may not be the largest festival site, but we know we’re getting our steps in today as we leg it back to the Main Stage just in time for the first lot of fireworks to explode into the sky as Don Broco opens with one of their best-known songs, Everybody.
Frontman Rob Damiani politely asks us for some “family friendly, old-style mosh” and informs us that it’s the band’s first time travelling from Bedford to perform here at Upcote Farm, making it clear what an honour it is to close out a festival that they’ve wanted to play for years.
Come Out To LA is dedicated to “the guy in the front row who has come all the way from the USA to Trees to hang out with you crazy fuckers!”. From where we’re conveniently positioned by the cider bar, they sound absolutely fantastic and, as streamers burst from the stage during Gumshield, we’re impressed by the stage show too.
The message behind next track Uber is certainly in keeping with the ethos of the festival “standing up to racism and looking out for your fellow humans”. A call to action to exert pressure on the newly-formed UK government over current events in Gaza follows, before a change of tone with the ridiculously named Manchester Super Reds No.1 Fan.
The light show is on-point, the confetti is flying, and we’re treated to a performance of “the best lyrics [Rob has] ever written, or stolen!” (Yippee-Ki-Yay Motherfucker) during Bruce Willis.
Sadly, our time with Broco is to be cut short, as Damiani dedicates the next song to the Power Rangers in the mosh pit. We’ve thoroughly enjoyed our time, but we have the small matter of a not-so-secret Frank Turner set over at the campsite that bears his name, and there’s no way we’re missing that. And so we make our way out of the arena for the last time this weekend.
It’s not the first time we’ve seen Turner today, it’s not even the second. And while Bob Vylan may well have termed this weekend Vylanfest, Turnerfest would be more accurate, given his trio of appearances today alone. He’ll just have to settle for inadvertently naming the campsite instead. Before the not-so-secret secret set however, we need to rewind nine hours for our final trip to The Forest Stage and a Q&A session with podcast Mark & Me, and of course, Turner himself.
It’s the perfect setting for an intimate occasion such as this, and while there’s plenty of the typical journalistic Q&A questions, there’s also plenty of interesting matters discussed also, and it’s clear that the host Mark is a huge fan of Turner’s work.
It’s not all questions though, as hoped, an acoustic guitar is produced and Turner proceeds to deep dive into some of his back catalogue. The Real Damage kicks things off perfectly, and an emotional outing of fan-favourite The Way I Tend To Be finds the crowd in full voice as, once again, tears are shed.
Taking the opportunity of such an intimate occasion to wheel out a couple of covers from earlier on in his career, talk of a reunion from Frank’s first band Million Dead is proceeded by an excellent and unexpected Smiling At Strangers On Trains, whilst the final track of the afternoon is an exquisite cover of Pedro The Lion’s Yellow Bike, a song Frank confesses he wishes he’d written.
It’s an emotional and understated affair, and a stark contrast to his performance four hours later on the Main Stage. Now backed by the famous Sleeping Souls, the fraught emotions in the forest are replaced by the sheer energy of his full band performances.
As one might expect, it’s a set hinged on his most recent two albums, Undefeated and FTHC, however there’s still nods to his early career in the form of Try This At Home. Some midset respite comes in the form of Worst Things Happen At Sea (requested by festival organiser James Scarlett on the previously covered podcast) and an excellent Ballad of Me And My Friends.
It’s the final tracks that of course that seem get the biggest reactions. Photosynthesis, Recovery, I Still Believe and trademark closing number Four Simple Words. And as Turner and his band leave the stage, it’s easy to see why they were given a headline length set. Though as we’ve said, he’s not quite finished.
Back in the campsite, a sizeable crowd has unsurprisingly formed around the modest (at best) stage known as Camp Turner. Chants of “Giant Fucking Moth” echo over the campsite (the name billed on the 11pm slot on the chalkboard nearby.
A figure in a hoody emerges onto the stage armed with an acoustic guitar and nothing else. The hood comes down. Of course it’s Turner – who proceeds to play his third set of the evening, this time completely unplugged to a baying crowd of hundreds.
It’s a short, half hour set that goes by in the blink of the eye, and though it’s understandably difficult to hear Turner himself, the crowd carry the songs, and songs as I Knew Prufrock Before He Was Famous, The Road, and a heartwarming Thatcher Fucked The Kids all get an airing.
It’s over before we know it. Just like that, the hood is back up and Turner disappears as quickly as he emerged. It’s hardly surprising, with a show in Manchester the following evening. We debate the silent disco, and even a return to The Forest, but with a long drive back the following day, we decide that a secret Frank Turner set is probably the perfect way to end a perfect festival.
Same time next year?
~
Dave Beech is a music writer based out of Manchester. Links to his work can be found over at his blog, Life’s A Beech, as well as his Louder Than War Author Archive. He also tweets as @Dave__Beech.
Additional words: Sally Hirshman
Photos provided/as indicated
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