Wireless Festival 2011

The Wireless Festival isn’t really a festival at all. Festivals bring to mind tents, roll-mats, queues to get off the motorway and a part of the world you’d never normally visit. Wireless Festival takes place in the middle of Hyde Park in London – you’ve probably heard of it. It’s ludicrously easy to get to (there’s a tube station about a minute from the entrance) and there’s no camping allowed. As a result, Wireless cleverly puts on three completely different days of music. Friday was pop day, Saturday was dance day and Sunday was alternative day.

I gain entrance to the park and found the Janelle Monáe set already in full swing on the main stage. She may not have been around for too long, but she knows how to play a crowd like an industry veteran. There was dancing, crowd-surfing, call and response, and a bizarre moment where the band descended to a hush while Janelle encouraged the whole audience to sit on the floor. She was backed by a frighteningly competent band who seemed to be having just as much fun as the audience and whose dance moves were expertly choreographed. Reportedly, after her performance at the Glastonbury Festival was televised, sales of Janelle Monáe’s album, The ArchAndroid, rose 5,000%. Having seen her at Wireless, it’s not the least bit surprising.

Such a great opening meant next act, Katy B, had a lot to live up to. Eyebrows were raised earlier this year when I awarded her debut album, On A Mission, 9/10 on No Ripcord, but it’s a rating I still stand by months later. However, Katy B’s live performance came across slightly flat. Jumping up and down a bit and employing the tired trope of having some guy shout, “make some NOISE!” over half the lyrics isn’t the most engaging thing in the world. When you’ve just seen Janelle Monáe cover The Jackson Five with dancers dressed as Everton mints, you’re on a hiding to nothing really. Katy B’s idea of getting the crowd hyped may work in a dark club at 2am, but on a balmy June afternoon, it sadly doesn’t hit the spot.

The last two years have seen me rediscover my love of pop, but I still hadn’t actually seen an out and out chart pop act in a live setting. That’s why I was really quite looking forward to seeing Ke$ha. I wasn’t particularly familiar with her oeuvre but the subject matter of her songs soon became clear: drinking, partying and sex. Subtlety is clearly not in the Ke$ha dictionary – any time there was a line that may or may not have been a sexual advance, she’d point to her crotch, just to make sure there wasn’t any doubt. We were invited to go in her “glovebox” and told there was “a slumber party in my basement” while all around me, the crowd seemed to know every single word. Overcoming my initial bafflement, I got completely swept up in the euphoria and, despite it being the trashiest experience of my life so far, had an absolute riot. Say what you like about Ke$ha but she knows how to put on a show. It’s not often you see someone pretend to tear the limbs off their dancers and proceed to drink the blood from their heart. Towards the end, she shouted, “London! There’s one problem! There’s not enough glitter ON MY TITS!” The crowd roared and dancers in hot pants were deployed to add sparkle to her décolletage. You don’t get this sort of thing at your average Fleet Foxes gig.

Like Janelle Monáe before her, the sheer showmanship of Ke$ha meant that the next act were almost inevitably going to be a disappointment. The unlucky people this time round were Canadian electrofunk duoChromeo. Their keyboard stands looked like ladies’ legs in high heels, they had a talkbox and… that was about it in terms of interesting aspects of Chromeo’s set. After twenty minutes of music that had my attention wandering, it was decided that a pint of overpriced lager in a paper cup and a kangaroo burger were a more enticing prospect.

It’s often the case that you can feel completely outside of a movement. The popularity of an artist confuses you, not just because you don’t connect with their music, but because you’ve barely heard of them and it’s a shock to find out just how popular they are. This is what happened to me when I stumbled into Devlin’s set. The crowd were going crazy for Devlin’s freestyle MCing, but to me it just recalled the dark days of UK hip-hop before Dizzee Rascal and Roots Manuva broke through. I was half expecting him to bring out Mark B and Blade for a guest spot, but instead he brought out Ed Sheeran. Ed Sheeran is a ruddy-faced urchin who’s recently had a big hit in the UK with The A Team. However, I’ve no idea why, as he displayed all the talent and originality of a busker on the London Underground.

So, as has probably been covered in enough detail, I was left cold by Devlin and when he departed, my friends and I (including top NR scribe Craig Stevens) went to the front of the stage anticipating Battles. Poor, poor Battles. After setting up all their equipment, they launched into their opening number, only to immediately blow the speakers. An apology followed, as did twenty minutes or so of panicked roadies frantically turning things off and on again. It became clear we weren’t going to get a song any time soon, so props to drummer John Stanier who did his utmost to keep the crowd entertained with a marathon drum solo. Clearly no-one goes to a show to see a drum solo, but the audience were patient and we received more apologies from the group. Eventually, the band started playing, but only had time for two songs and it was clear something still wasn’t quite right. They were granted an extension and soldiered on for one more track, which still didn’t quite hit the spot. Battles left the stage to sympathetic applause, telling us, “we owe you a proper show next time,” but it was hard not to feel disappointed. Poor Battles.

After Battles’ departure, it wasn’t long before the stage was lit an eerie shade of red and full of space-age mixing desks. A giant net loomed in front of the crowd, on to which numbers were being projected. It all appeared to make no sense, which was completely to be expected as I was awaiting the arrival of Aphex Twin. A ripple of applause broke out, a silhouette made its way behind the mixing desk, and a bass note was played at the kind of volume and frequency which made my internal organs scream. A bit more ear-bleed tomfoolery occurred and then he broke out into Windowlicker, and the party really started. Unfortunately, the problem with Aphex Twin is that he makes dance music that’s impossible to dance to. This is fine at home, but in a big, sweaty tent, you’re in the mood for some communal swaying. Quarter of an hour in, I had an epiphany. He won’t even show his face, he’s being wilfully difficult and the potential fight next to me featuring a shove-happy stoner and the world’s most Cockney man is more interesting to me than the music, therefore I’m off. And leave the tent I did, not that the silly, beardy fool would have cared one jot.

This is the bit where I tell you all about the headliners, The Chemical Brothers. However, a combination of beer, bad timing and my kidneys (personally, I blame Aphex Twin) meant I found myself stranded from my friends on the edge of a heaving mass of people, with no way of getting back in. Twenty minutes into the Chemical Brothers set, they’d played one hit, I was too far away to get the real atmosphere, and I was frazzled from a whole day of music.

Remember I mentioned just how easy it is to get to Wireless Festival? It also means it’s incredibly easy to leave. So, call me a slacker, call me a quitter, call me a lightweight if you like, but I’ve never been a massive Chemical Brothers fan so I was happy to slink off into the evening unchallenged. I’d had a great day, but from my point of view, the best acts were all done and dusted by 5pm. I’d certainly go again next year though – when summer comes, that combination of good music, the open air and being with your friends is hard to beat.

The ArchAndroid: Suites II and III

Janelle Monáe - The ArchAndroid: Suites II and III

released 12 July 2010 on Bad Boy/Atlantic

Over a decade ago, Destiny’s Child put out a call for “all the women who are independent” to “throw their hands up at me”. The irony that this track,Independent Women (Part 1), was prominent on the soundtrack of the first Charlie’s Angels film - basically a story of three strong, feisty women… who have all their movements controlled by a man named Charlie - appeared to be lost on Beyoncé and co. Over the next ten years, the concept of feminism and free-thinking women hardly thrived in popular music, as the stronghold of commercial hip-hop - much of which is preoccupied with the acquisition material goods and misogyny - grew and grew. In fact, even Beyoncé herself seemed to give up: in 2001 she was a survivor who “ain’t gonna give up”, but just four years later, Destiny’s Child wanted to Cater 2 U and by 2008, well, “if you like it then you should’ve put a ring on it”.

Obviously the fact that contemporary R&B hasn’t had a female star intent on doing things on her own terms since Lauryn Hill went AWOL isn’t expressly Beyoncé’s fault, but the world needs a saviour. If the music press is to be believed, our heroine has arrived in the shape of Janelle Monáe: a 5ft waif with extravagantly coiffeured hair and a penchant for afrofuturism (well, haven’t we all?). On the evidence of Monáe’s début full-length LP, The ArchAndroid, she isn’t just here to save music, she wants to take us on a ride through history too.

In short, the sheer breadth of styles on display during The ArchAndroid is simply astonishing. Sure, it comfortably clocks in at over an hour, but it still dabbles with hip-hop, jazz, swing, pop, salsa and rockabilly with consummate panache in that time. Almost as if to prove she isn’t your ordinary, interchangeable R&B poppet, The ArchAndroid begins with Suite II Overture - a neo-classical orchestral piece with robotic voices, which evokes Disney’s Fantasia if it were rewritten in the year 2100.

The future is a theme which runs throughout The ArchAndroid, but the influence of so many of soul and hip-hop’s biggest names means that this album could conceivably be from any year between 1985 and 2020. Faster is an exhilarating mix of hip-hop and 1920s swing, Say You’ll Go is a ballad with African percussion which seamlessly morphs into a piano piece created to showcase Monáe’s stunning voice, andMake the Bus is high campery - like an R&B Gaga - featuring Of Montreal.

A concept album The ArchAndroid may be, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t stand-out individual tracks. Locked Inside is the 21st Century cousin of Michael Jackson’s Rock With You and could comfortably fit on Off The Wall (yes, it’s that good). The frantic, sprinting beats of OutKast’s B.O.B. are imitated on the genuinely thrilling Cold War and if you thought that was good, the following track is surely the best song of 2010 so far: Tightrope. You’ll have no doubt heard Tightrope by now, and probably seen the video with an androgynous Monáe fully suited-up, replete with bowtie, and shimmying as if the floor were slathered with grease. Tightrope may be well-known, but that doesn’t diminish its potency: Monáe confidently throwing out urgent syllables, funky brass stabs, rousing vocals and a typically expert guest verse from Big Boi.

The story goes that Monáe was discovered by OutKast - she appears on their 2006 soundtrack album,Idlewild, and also crops up on current Big Boi long-player, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty - so comparisons are inevitable. However, Monáe could well be the female counterpart to the Atlanta duo, with that comfort and ease with which she inhabits a range of genres, and etherealness that suggests she’s been beamed in from another planet. She may well have borrowed the torch OutKast inherited from Funkadelic and Prince, and she’s certainly a worthy guardian.

For a first album, The ArchAndroid is astoundingly accomplished. It would be a lie to say there aren’t a few lulls in the back end of the record as Monáe begins to take fewer risks, but only the truly seminal albums can keep the quality level so high for over an hour. However, just as you’re lured into thinking the album’s petering out, it closes with BaBopByeYa: a sprawling, nine-minute odyssey encapsulating everything great about this record. Equal parts smoky club jazz, salsa and rousing Bond theme,BeBopByeYa is a bombastic display of intent that shows the clear talent Monáe has her disposal and makes you feel safe betting that she’ll be far more than a one-album wonder. Sometimes when albums garner seemingly endless praise - especially first efforts - it’s tempting to see it as little more than hyperbole, but with The ArchAndroid, Janelle Monáe has displayed that the excitement is entirely justified.