The Camden Crawl – Review

The Camden Crawl – Review

Another year, another horde of overdressed, overwhelming devotees descends upon the streets of Camden. Even the sun has turned up, which helps make the expected crawl seem more like a stroll, the food seem that much more edible and the music that much better.

Friday night is a race from the reality of employment to the far more palatable prospect of a naked man walking across the roundabout opposite the Hawley Arms. Ah, it’s festival time again. A clever little queuing system means that people have a fair old chance of gaining entry to the Roundhouse to see The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, so that’s where we plod.

Onstage beforehand, The Virgins are an instant coffee support band – they fill a hole but don’t quite sate. Sporting a bow tie, a leather jacket and a bare chest, Donald Cumming does not have a good look for a frontman, or any kind of man, but it fits with their jaunty, unapologetic indie.Karen O and co are a different proposition – the singer dazzles in a sizzlingly silly outfit, delivering shrieking excitement early on with Gold Lion, while oldie Art Star pleases the purists with Nick Zinner effortlessly artful on guitar. It’s a bit early for the lighters aloft moment on Maps, but Zero and Date With The Night provide a shuddering finale as the festival gets an almighty kick-start.

Wandering along the high street as a band busks on the road feels fittingly festive, while chancing upon Madness playing a triumphant set aboard an open-top bus keeps things suitably surreal. It Must Be Love is sung by elated fans and perturbed passers-by alike as Suggs oversees the mayhem.

It is more subdued in Electric Ballroom - well everything seems more subdued after seeing Our House turn Camden Market into a strange and joyful street party. Nevertheless, The Big Pink fill the venue with their gloomy yet dancey sound, the highlight a brooding rendition of Velvet.Wire then arrive to recapture past glories – they inspire some outrageously jubilant dancing, but don’t quite connect, so it’s off to see some Queens of Noize-curated noise at The Black Cap after a detour to a too-packed Jazz Café. Drums of Death are theatrical and engaging, but it’s time to head down the Northern Line and prepare for tomorrow.

Watching the crowd move from wide-eyed anticipation to bleary-eyed satisfaction and back again within the space of a day is always part of the attraction at city festivals – the aid of an actual bed means those who overindulged on Friday are back fresh-faced on Saturday.

There is a whole host of musical treats to keep them entertained, as well as more obscure delights such as queuing next to the trampy-looking guy from Soccer AM. In the Hawley Arms, an unannounced set featuring The La’s legend Lee Mavers draws a crowd, while Kasabian turn up inside a tiny bus to strum an acoustic number. The atmosphere is bustling and just the right side of lairy as the high street becomes more of a throng than a thoroughfare.The Maccabees are the early evening destination – well, after Little Boots delivers an unmentionably uneventful set – and the five-piece don’t disappoint. Love You Better divides opinion, but the darling nostalgia of Lego, charmingly dedicated to an over-zealous gig-goer, is electrifying, as singer Orlando’s quaint understatement melds engagingly with guitarist Felix’s enthusiasm. Tissue Shoulders is a highlight and new tracks such as Kiss and Resolve and opener No Kind Words mix romanticism and driven intensity.

With secret gigs popping up as regularly as amusing celebrity-spots (Kate Nash and The Cribs’ Ryan Jarman canoodling outside the toilets, somebody phone the tabloids) it’s frantic as the light fades and decisions are deliberated over where to wander. Other than a few expectedly busy venues, the notorious Camden queue doesn’t materialise and it isn’t too difficult to gain entry anywhere, so The Joy Formidable’s capable but uninspired set is taken in at Electric Ballroom.Some people may not have slept for 48 hours, but The Fall’s archduke of curmudgeonly longevity Mark E Smith looks a whole lot worse than anybody else does. Still, a smiling Smith would not look right and he is suitably decrepit with a support belt around his gut while the fanboys and politely morbidly interested mingle below. Nevertheless, the current line-up sounds superb, ferociously loud and unabashed.

The vocals are often obscured but a dark energy keeps the likes of Cowboy George and The Latch Key Kid fresh and alive, which is a valid description of the festival, new music colliding with established names but all digging into Camden Crawl’s philosophy of new ideas and old-fashioned fun. It has enough one-offs to not feel formulated and a passable level of organisation. Before the festival season gets into full-swing, this is a loud, messy, sunny way to ease into it all.