Various Artists - The North South Divine

"The North South Divine" was a compilation album released by FF Vinyl (although not on vinyl, only CD) and served as a sonic battleground and a bridge, capturing the energetic diversity of the UK's underground music at the time of its 2004 release. True to its title, the compilation aimed to highlight a musical and cultural dialogue, showcasing bands that were often divided by the media's focus on London-centric scenes versus the potent output from north of the Watford Gap.

With 12 tracks, this collection is genre-fluid journey, blending the raw post-punk edge and earnest indie-pop hooks characteristic of the era. These are not the chart-toppers, but the hard-working acts generating genuine buzz on the club and festival circuit. It functions today as an authentic time capsule, a valuable document that illustrates the geographic spread and stylistic depth of British alternative music before the internet fully flattened local music economies. For anyone interested in the bands that were on the cusp of breaking through in the mid-2000s, The North South Divine is an essential, if rare, listen.

There's no online copy available so I've linked some of the tracks I've found on YouTube.

Track	Artist	Song Title	Length
1	Kentucky AFC	"Outlaw"	3:32
2	JT Mouse	"Numb"	2:06
3	The Afternoons	"That Summer, That Sky"	3:37
4	The Crimea	"White Russian Galaxy"	3:19
5	Gabrielle 25	"Tearing Away"	3:05
6	The Peakz	"Conwy Valley Love Song"	3:24
7	Camera	"I'm Not Ready (Demo)"	3:24
8	Texas Radio Band	"Chwareon"	3:56
9	FILLMORE	"Acrobat"	3:15
10	Science	"Oh, I Hide It Well"	3:15
11	The International Karate Plus	"Nexus In A Chain Of Thought"	3:24
12	Sweet Baboo	"Do Do D Do Charlene"	2:47

V Festival 2003 – Weston Park Review

 

Three days of cider, drunkeness, campervans, and corporate-sponsored madness – welcome to V2003. By now, the Fatman crew, Crud, Sync, Fairziff and assorted hangers-on had festival survival down to a science: arrive early, pitch the tents before the Strongbow takes hold, and dive headfirst into the weekend with no thought for livers or long-term damage.

Friday Night: Warm-Up Mayhem

The festival began the way all good ones do – raiding the fences into the campervan site, hooking up with the Fatman clan and their converted removal vans complete with sound systems, and sinking enough booze to forget which field you’re in. Friday was less about music and more about setting the tone: overindulgence, near-misses (Mrs Fatman narrowly avoided concussion from a falling fence panel), and the first of many late-night parties.

Saturday: Saxophones, Scousers & Strongbow

The Zutons had the honour of opening the NME Stage, proving Liverpool still had a stranglehold on the UK indie scene. Their funky guitar-sax combo divided opinion but “Pressure” hit hard enough to get early heads nodding. The Stands followed with a laid-back Cast-like sound, while The Coral later in the day showed exactly why they’d risen above their peers – effortlessly pulling off their psychedelic shanties to a huge crowd.

Not every blast from the past worked though. James in ’01 had been euphoric, Happy Mondays in ’02 chaotic but fun – this year’s retro slot was Inspiral Carpets, and it was awkward. Like watching your mate’s dad dance at a wedding, the nostalgia curdled fast.

Morcheeba restored some calm with dreamy grooves, while elsewhere Echo & The Bunnymen’s greatest-hits swaggered into the weekend, Mac’s voice still commanding and Will Sergeant’s guitar sharp as ever. For many, that was the real Saturday highlight.

But not for all. While the Red Hot Chili Peppers pulled a suffocating crowd on the main stage – so packed the big screens were the only way to see them – a couple of thousand made the smarter choice. Over on the NME Stage, Underworld delivered the weekend’s true revelation. With lasers slicing the night sky and “King of Snake” rattling bones, Karl Hyde and Rick Smith turned V into a rave cathedral. By the time “Born Slippy” erupted, it was clear: the lucky few who skipped the Chilis had witnessed the set of V2003.

Sunday: Killing Joke & Coldplay Clashes

Sunday started with bleary breakfasts cooked on Fairziff’s trusty VW stove and more cider to wash away the hangovers. Echo & The Bunnymen set the tone with another soaring set, and Damian Rice plus Athlete kept things mellow for those still piecing themselves together.

But the day belonged to Killing Joke. Jaz Coleman stormed onstage in war paint and bone-strewn robes, leading the band through a blistering half-hour that spanned new anthems (“Blood On Your Hands,” “Total Invasion”) and classics like “Wardance” and “Requiem.” It was ferocious, theatrical, and all too short.

Later, Goldfrapp’s lush electronica washed over the dance tent like a dream, while Turin Brakes impressed against the odds with a packed crowd despite Foo Fighters dominating the main stage. Coldplay headlined to the largest audience of the weekend, but not everyone was convinced – some of us slipped away to a nearby bar where the DJ spun Joy Division and The Undertones instead, a far better soundtrack for Coldplay refuseniks.

Feeder closed the NME Stage with a tight, uplifting set that proved them festival headliner material, ending Sunday on a high before the inevitable stumble back to camper parties and more late-night chaos.

Monday: The Hangover Epilogue

By Monday morning Weston Park was a wasteland of litter and broken tents. Bacon butties with chilli sauce softened the blow as the last of the gang packed up, swapping favourite moments and crowning the best festival T-shirt spotted all weekend: “Midgets Make Me Laugh.”

Verdict

V2003 had everything – the highs of Underworld, Echo & The Bunnymen, and Killing Joke; the lows of Inspiral Carpets trying too hard; and the chaos of campervan raves, bungee cages, and Strongbow-fuelled stupidity. It was messy, funny, occasionally transcendent, and above all a reminder of why we keep coming back: for those rare “festival moments” when the music, madness, and mayhem all line up just right.

The Keys - Love Your Sons & Daughters - 7" single

Released on Too Pure, “Love Your Sons & Daughters” finds Aberyswyth's finest garage export The Keys distilling their appeal into three tightly wound tracks that balance bruising guitar force with an unexpectedly open heart. The title song surges in on a cool sixties guitar, quickly settling into a driving pulse that never quite loosens its grip. There’s a ragged uplift to the melody — a chorus that tells you of so many tears and so many fears — and the vocal sits right on that fault line between tenderness and abrasion. I'm digging the organ solo! The whole song is hooky without being clean, anthemic without ever sounding safe.

The B-side sounds almost of demo quality, but still deepens the picture rather than merely padding it out. “Good As Glue” shifts from outward sweep to inward pressure, built around a thick, slightly trippy psychedelic background that scrapes and snags instead of soaring. Where the A-side pushes forward, this track feels stuck in place — deliberately so — exploring attachment as something adhesive and faintly suffocating. The chorus doesn’t explode; it tightens, pulling everything closer together until the tension itself becomes the hook. It’s a wiry, claustrophobic piece of mushroom influence that rewards repeat listens, revealing sly melodic turns beneath the surface abrasion.

“Echinacea,” by contrast, acts as an acoustic comedown and a quiet aftershock. Named after the herbal remedy, it drifts rather than drives, trading psychedelic swirls for hazier textures by acoustic guitars and a slower, almost narcotic groove. The vocals harmoniously recede into the mix, sounding distant and private, as if overheard in a bar rather than performed. Instead of building toward release, the song gently dissipates, leaving behind a residue of melancholy calm. It’s the most fragile moment on the single, and arguably the most revealing, showing the band’s ability to generate atmosphere without abandoning intensity.

Taken as a whole, the record feels less like a traditional single and more like a miniature emotional arc: a surge of communal feeling, a knot of dependency, and a muted recovery. What stands out is the absence of irony. “Love Your Sons & Daughters” may not polish its emotions into radio sheen, but that’s precisely its strength — it burns, wobbles, and finally exhales, leaving the impression of a band far more nuanced than a single blast of guitar noise might suggest.

‘People & Planet’ protest held at Esso garage on A55

The Esso garage on the A55 near Northop became a flashpoint for environmental direct action in North Wales. Organised by the student network People & Planet, the protest was a local spearhead for the international "Stop Esso" campaign, which sought to hold the oil giant accountable for its role in the escalating climate crisis.

The timing of the protest was significant, occurring just ten days after the start of the Iraq War. For the activists gathered on the A55, the issues of renewable energy and global conflict were inextricably linked. While other oil "supermajors" had begun making tentative steps toward green energy, Esso remained a staunch holdout, famously refusing to invest in wind, solar, or tidal power. Protesters used the high visibility of the A55—the main transit artery for North Wales—to highlight Esso’s active lobbying against the Kyoto Protocol and its perceived influence on oil-centric foreign policy.

Tactically, the demonstration was designed to engage motorists through subversion and visual storytelling. Activists frequently wore distressed tiger costumes—a mockery of the iconic "Put a Tiger in Your Tank" slogan—and displayed a modified Esso logo where the "SS" was replaced with dollar signs ($$) to symbolise corporate greed. By leafleting drivers and encouraging a boycott, the group aimed to hit the company's profits to force a shift in environmental policy.

The A55 protest was a critical component of a wider movement that eventually saw 1 in 20 UK motorists avoiding the brand. It cemented a legacy of student-led activism in the region, proving that local actions on a North Wales roadside could contribute to a massive national conversation about climate change, fossil fuels, and the urgent need for a transition to renewable energy.

Pigstock Pocket Venus Punch Up

 

Daily Post - the fracas was at Pigstock Festival in Denbigh on Saturday 10th August

Infinity Chimps LP ‘Sounds of Nant Y Benglog’ is released on Ankst

 

Two decades on from its quiet release, Sounds of Nant Y Benglog remains one of the Welsh underground's most elusive artefacts. Released on August 5th, 2002 via Ankstmusik, the LP was the second—and seemingly final—offering from Infinity Chimps, the enigmatic side project of John Lawrence, formerly of Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci.

If Gorky’s flirted with psychedelic folk whimsy, Infinity Chimps dives headlong into it, trading in melodies wrapped in mist, motifs half-remembered, and instrumental sketches that evoke a deep sense of place. The place in question: Nant Y Benglog, a real and mythic corner of North Wales, rendered here as dreamscape.

Opening with delicate acoustic guitar and a true 70s feel, the album sets a tone that feels both personal and unspoken. Titles like “Pen Llithrig y Wrach” and “Drws y Coed” ground the album in Welsh topography and folklore, though the record rarely speaks directly—it's more a collection of moods, scenes, and shadows. Lawrence’s production favours restraint: gentle yet beautiful guitars, occasional pedal steel, whispered electronics and harmonies. Songs appear like weather patterns: fleeting, shifting, unknowable.

One of the most immediate tracks, “97 Days,” offers a vague pulse of early-post-Syd Pink Floyd, with rhythm and light, while “Universe” feels like it’s evaporating as it plays. The instrumental choices suggest a musician working on instinct, not audience expectation. It’s as if the record wasn’t meant to be found, but stumbled upon.

What’s most striking is how little fanfare this album received. There are virtually no reviews, no interviews, and minimal trace of its existence beyond collector circles and a handful of digital listings. That absence only adds to its mystique. For fans of exploratory, lo-fi folk, Sounds of Nant Y Benglog is a hidden gem from an artist mid-transition—between the band he left and the solo career he would eventually embrace.

In hindsight, it prefigures the direction Lawrence would take on Songs from the Precipice (2015) and Narcissus Paradox (2019): reflective, regional, uncommercial, but rich with feeling.

RANT about Cocaine Festival headline in Daily Post

Originally posted on link2wales website and also link2wales blog
In what was an absurd attack on the hugely successful Wakestock Festival held last weekend near Abersoch the Daily Post newspaper sank into tabloid journalistic hell in a pathetic attempt to boost circulation sales. The headline ‘Cocaine Festival’ greeted readers on Monday morning & the following 2 pages illustrated how shocked reporter Hugo Duncan uncovered ‘Drugs chaos at North Wales surfing event.’ What a pile of complete bollocks. It’s patently obvious this journalist either has aspirations of working for The Sun or thought a rock festival was something Bryn Terfel holds for his opera friends every year.

I was at Wakestock on Saturday with Pocket Venus, Treehouse 3 & Reef & none of us had to surf down mountains of cocaine, stand on blocks of cannabis or catch collapsing party-goers. It looks like Hugo Duncan was having all the fun as I don’t recall this ‘massive drugs party’ taking place. Wasn’t it a lucky coincidence he took his own photographer with him to capture the moment he was offered cannabis (shocking isn’t it!?) by a reveller? Quite frankly, those who have read the Daily Post article & attended the festival will probably deduct that to have written a story like that you’d have to be on drugs as the guy was obviously hallucinating! And anyone lying on the ground had obviously come under the effect as the ‘cocktail of drink & drugs took its toll.’ There is no denying that drug intake went on at this festival, as it does in every town every day; it is a scourge, but the level that the report descended to is quite laughable had it not been so potentially damaging to the O’Shea Wakestock organisers. Would you believe that as Reef blasted out their heavy guitar riffs most of the audience went wild! It must have been a frightening experience for poor Hugo (you’ll never make the NME sunshine, maybe Y Gadlas if you’re lucky). Thankfully the North Wales Police viewed the festival for what it was, a huge success, extremely friendly, no arrests & a huge boost to the income of a struggling part of our country.

There were 6 stabbing related incidents in Rhyl the same evening (2 with knives, 4 with bottles), I didn’t see any news stories on them.

Unlike the Daily Post, this website will not close ranks. Hugo Duncan & his editor are welcome to reply to this item.

——————————————————–

They did…. (this from Mark Brittain)

WHEN the Daily Post visited the Wakestock Festival last Saturday evening, little did we know that we were about to stir up a hornet’s nest. Mind you, we didn’t know that we were about to witness scenes of blatant dope smoking and cocaine sniffing either.

Our report which appeared on Monday, under the headline “Cocaine Festival”, led to a total (so far) of 15 irate phone calls, e-mails, faxes and letters, all of them critical, and some extremely abusive, but all voicing virtually identical criticisms.Faced, therefore, with demands for an apology, it is incumbent on us to answer our critics and state our case – which I shall do having given you a taste of the more reasoned correspondence, which, for reasons of space and repetition, I have been obliged to condense – for which I do apologise.

First off, a very temperate rebuke from Mrs C. Fox, of Pwllheli. “My husband and I were present at the prizegiving and live music on Saturday night, having watched the competition events on Friday and Saturday,” she wrote. “I was amazed at your account of events and find it difficult to believe we were at the same venue! We have been to a great many live music events over the last 30 years and felt security arrangements were satisfactory – my bag was searched before we were allowed into the arena, and at no time did we feel threatened or see any `chaotic scenes’. As I understand it, the 15-year-old boy mentioned in the article had in fact been drinking `Red Bull’ and had his drink `spiked’ as suggested. As for `ten people’ climbing over the fence and `letting party-goers in and out at will’, you then state that `security guards replaced the fence soon after’ – and there were between 3,500 and 5,000 people present!!

“While I agree there were people a bit worse for wear towards the end of the evening, are you naive enough to think this doesn’t happen – here, or anywhere else?”It is a sign of the times that some people do take recreational drugs, and, as with anything, if you go looking for them, you will find them. We saw no one obviously flaunting or offering them. “I was, however, encouraged to hear that the police were happy with the way things went and, after all, there seemed to be no reports of violence as there have been in the past at other live music events in North Wales.

“It would be a terrible shame if this event ceased to exist after only three years due to one distorted view, when so much hard work has gone into organising it each year.”

Next up, Heather Torkington described our report as “spectacularly inaccurate and quite frankly pathetic”, but took immediate exception to our incorrect reference in the subheadline to “surfing”.

“Wakeboarding and surfing are two very different sports demanding totally opposite weather conditions and equipment … such a blatant inaccuracy is inexcusable,” she wrote.”I am absolutely disgusted with your `exclusive scoop’ and I, and other local business people, hope you fully intend to apologise to the organisers.

“Abersoch, like many villages in Wales, really felt the pain of foot-andmouth disease last year and our local tourist board are working so hard with people like O’Shea to organise events that can help regenerate our businesses and extend the season – you have quite simply gone out of your way to defame the festival and pull out all stops to prevent it happening next year.

“The festival has bought thousands of people to the area to enjoy fabulous music and an exciting growing sport in the heart of our beautiful Pen Llyn – surely this is something to be proud of. We enjoyed our busiest weekend this year, which is exactly what was needed during such a gloomy summer. The organisers spent the past year working tirelessly with the council/ police and authorities to make sure that every Health and Safety avenue was explored. If you go to any pub in any town in this country and ask for drugs, you will find them. I am hardly surprised that your stunt of going undercover to find drugs was fruitful! I was reassured by the police presence and security measures, but most of all I was bowled over by the amazing atmosphere people of all ages (I spotted at least two grannies!) having a fantastic time. I think that 10 people trying to climb over a fence is an impressively small number and that security should be congratulated. I arrived around 9.30 to have my bag checked, and witnessed enough police to put the fear of god into any potential drug user. The standard of music was unbelievable – with a superb mix of local bands and emerging bands from all over the coun-try – as for Reef, what a coup to have them play on their return to the UK after a sell-out tour of the US.”

Mike Atherton wrote, expressing his “disgust and disappointment. I have attended the Wakestock Festival over the past three years and very much enjoyed it on all occasions. Every year, a lot of people have a great time at what is widely recognised as a well organised, efficient and troublefree event. As, indeed, it was this year. Articles like yours cause great harm and send out a very negative message to all the people who might not have attended and been able to see that the very large majority of several thousand people had a great night in a great location. I would imagine that, if any journalist went to any event of any scale, looking solely to expose it as a drugs festival, they would indeed be able to find people with drugs.

“Why did you not mention that the Wakeboarding – not surfing – sends out a good message to young people of the benefits of healthy outdoor sports? Why did you focus on a small part of the festival – that, yes, there would indeed be some people taking drugs – and not the great music, good organisation, or lack of any trouble over the whole event? That the police again reported that there was no trouble and are very happy with the event organisation? Or the fact that a relatively small place has brought big names, from both Wakeboarding and the music world, to a beautiful tourist area, boosting and strengthening the local economy after much hard work and planning from local people?”

Someone called Pru e-mailed to say: “Can appreciate your concern with the drug problems that are apparent in society today – just a shame that you chose to pick on one event to highlight it. Not a very good angle considering that, if you go looking for such things at any festivals, then there will always be that element. Just thankful that there were only two incidents out of a possible 5,000. I came away from the event very happy, my only concerns being the camping capacity. The wakeboarding was spectacular, you must agree? Those riders are the most gutsy I have seen in a long time – shame that you didn’t feel it was worth a mention.”

Finally, Neil Crud, manager of Pocket Venus, one of the bands who performed, wrote to “protest strongly”. Although there is no denying that drug intake went on, to portray the event as a cocaine free-for-all is absurd and it is blatantly obvious that you went to ‘dig the dirt’ rather than report on an arrest-free and successful gathering. I spent the entire day at Wakestock and drove home in the early hours of Sunday. Having to stay sober, I vividly remember not seeing mountains of cannabis and cocaine, nor did I fall over any comatose 15 year-olds. Drugs are a scourge on society, but to tar 5,000 people with the brush of being in a `massive drugs party’ is an absolute lie.”

The Daily Post, in line with its policy, is pleased to publish the above “rights of reply” and, for what it’s worth, we deny absolutely that we went to deliberately bury, not to praise, the festival. Let me state unequivocally that we wholeheartedly support any venture which brings tourists to North Wales. We went to report honestly on a festival and found instead, sadly, what we later wrote about, and which we stand by. It may well be that, by concentrating on the drug use, we failed to adequately reflect the many excellent things also going on.

However, if the future of the festival is to be assured, then open drugtaking, especially of Class A drugs like cocaine, must not be tolerated. A minority, to be sure, but one which tainted the rest of the festival and which could, if allowed to flourish, jeopardise it.

By highlighting the problem, we hope we may have nipped it in the bud. To any disappointed readers, we say sorry – but not for taking the antidrugs stance we did.

We will never, ever, apologise for that.

RANT - Wakestock Cocaine Festival

In what was an absurd attack on the hugely successful Wakestock Festival held last weekend near Abersoch the Daily Post newspaper sank into tabloid journalistic hell in a pathetic attempt to boost circulation sales. The headline ‘Cocaine Festival’ greeted readers on Monday morning & the following 2 pages illustrated how shocked reporter Hugo Duncan uncovered ‘Drugs chaos at North Wales surfing event.’ What a pile of complete bollocks. It’s patently obvious this journalist either has aspirations of working for The Sun or thought a rock festival was something Bryn Terfel holds for his opera friends every year.

I was at Wakestock on Saturday with Pocket Venus, Treehouse 3 & Reef & none of us had to surf down mountains of cocaine, stand on blocks of cannabis or catch collapsing party-goers. It looks like Hugo Duncan was having all the fun as I don’t recall this ‘massive drugs party’ taking place. Wasn’t it a lucky coincidence he took his own photographer with him to capture the moment he was offered cannabis (shocking isn’t it!?) by a reveller? Quite frankly, those who have read the Daily Post article & attended the festival will probably deduct that to have written a story like that you’d have to be on drugs as the guy was obviously hallucinating! And anyone lying on the ground had obviously come under the effect as the ‘cocktail of drink & drugs took its toll.’ There is no denying that drug intake went on at this festival, as it does in every town every day; it is a scourge, but the level that the report descended to is quite laughable had it not been so potentially damaging to the O’Shea Wakestock organisers. Would you believe that as Reef blasted out their heavy guitar riffs most of the audience went wild! It must have been a frightening experience for poor Hugo (you’ll never make the NME sunshine, maybe Y Gadlas if you’re lucky). Thankfully the North Wales Police viewed the festival for what it was, a huge success, extremely friendly, no arrests & a huge boost to the income of a struggling part of our country.

There were 6 stabbing related incidents in Rhyl the same evening (2 with knives, 4 with bottles), I didn’t see any news stories on them.

Unlike the Daily Post, this website will not close ranks. Hugo Duncan & his editor are welcome to reply to this item.

——————————————————–

They did…. (this from Mark Brittain)

WHEN the Daily Post visited the Wakestock Festival last Saturday evening, little did we know that we were about to stir up a hornet’s nest. Mind you, we didn’t know that we were about to witness scenes of blatant dope smoking and cocaine sniffing either.

Our report which appeared on Monday, under the headline “Cocaine Festival”, led to a total (so far) of 15 irate phone calls, e-mails, faxes and letters, all of them critical, and some extremely abusive, but all voicing virtually identical criticisms.Faced, therefore, with demands for an apology, it is incumbent on us to answer our critics and state our case – which I shall do having given you a taste of the more reasoned correspondence, which, for reasons of space and repetition, I have been obliged to condense – for which I do apologise.

First off, a very temperate rebuke from Mrs C. Fox, of Pwllheli. “My husband and I were present at the prizegiving and live music on Saturday night, having watched the competition events on Friday and Saturday,” she wrote. “I was amazed at your account of events and find it difficult to believe we were at the same venue! We have been to a great many live music events over the last 30 years and felt security arrangements were satisfactory – my bag was searched before we were allowed into the arena, and at no time did we feel threatened or see any `chaotic scenes’. As I understand it, the 15-year-old boy mentioned in the article had in fact been drinking `Red Bull’ and had his drink `spiked’ as suggested. As for `ten people’ climbing over the fence and `letting party-goers in and out at will’, you then state that `security guards replaced the fence soon after’ – and there were between 3,500 and 5,000 people present!!

“While I agree there were people a bit worse for wear towards the end of the evening, are you naive enough to think this doesn’t happen – here, or anywhere else?”It is a sign of the times that some people do take recreational drugs, and, as with anything, if you go looking for them, you will find them. We saw no one obviously flaunting or offering them. “I was, however, encouraged to hear that the police were happy with the way things went and, after all, there seemed to be no reports of violence as there have been in the past at other live music events in North Wales.

“It would be a terrible shame if this event ceased to exist after only three years due to one distorted view, when so much hard work has gone into organising it each year.”

Next up, Heather Torkington described our report as “spectacularly inaccurate and quite frankly pathetic”, but took immediate exception to our incorrect reference in the subheadline to “surfing”.

“Wakeboarding and surfing are two very different sports demanding totally opposite weather conditions and equipment … such a blatant inaccuracy is inexcusable,” she wrote.”I am absolutely disgusted with your `exclusive scoop’ and I, and other local business people, hope you fully intend to apologise to the organisers.

“Abersoch, like many villages in Wales, really felt the pain of foot-andmouth disease last year and our local tourist board are working so hard with people like O’Shea to organise events that can help regenerate our businesses and extend the season – you have quite simply gone out of your way to defame the festival and pull out all stops to prevent it happening next year.

“The festival has bought thousands of people to the area to enjoy fabulous music and an exciting growing sport in the heart of our beautiful Pen Llyn – surely this is something to be proud of. We enjoyed our busiest weekend this year, which is exactly what was needed during such a gloomy summer. The organisers spent the past year working tirelessly with the council/ police and authorities to make sure that every Health and Safety avenue was explored. If you go to any pub in any town in this country and ask for drugs, you will find them. I am hardly surprised that your stunt of going undercover to find drugs was fruitful! I was reassured by the police presence and security measures, but most of all I was bowled over by the amazing atmosphere people of all ages (I spotted at least two grannies!) having a fantastic time. I think that 10 people trying to climb over a fence is an impressively small number and that security should be congratulated. I arrived around 9.30 to have my bag checked, and witnessed enough police to put the fear of god into any potential drug user. The standard of music was unbelievable – with a superb mix of local bands and emerging bands from all over the coun-try – as for Reef, what a coup to have them play on their return to the UK after a sell-out tour of the US.”

Mike Atherton wrote, expressing his “disgust and disappointment. I have attended the Wakestock Festival over the past three years and very much enjoyed it on all occasions. Every year, a lot of people have a great time at what is widely recognised as a well organised, efficient and troublefree event. As, indeed, it was this year. Articles like yours cause great harm and send out a very negative message to all the people who might not have attended and been able to see that the very large majority of several thousand people had a great night in a great location. I would imagine that, if any journalist went to any event of any scale, looking solely to expose it as a drugs festival, they would indeed be able to find people with drugs.

“Why did you not mention that the Wakeboarding – not surfing – sends out a good message to young people of the benefits of healthy outdoor sports? Why did you focus on a small part of the festival – that, yes, there would indeed be some people taking drugs – and not the great music, good organisation, or lack of any trouble over the whole event? That the police again reported that there was no trouble and are very happy with the event organisation? Or the fact that a relatively small place has brought big names, from both Wakeboarding and the music world, to a beautiful tourist area, boosting and strengthening the local economy after much hard work and planning from local people?”

Someone called Pru e-mailed to say: “Can appreciate your concern with the drug problems that are apparent in society today – just a shame that you chose to pick on one event to highlight it. Not a very good angle considering that, if you go looking for such things at any festivals, then there will always be that element. Just thankful that there were only two incidents out of a possible 5,000. I came away from the event very happy, my only concerns being the camping capacity. The wakeboarding was spectacular, you must agree? Those riders are the most gutsy I have seen in a long time – shame that you didn’t feel it was worth a mention.”

Finally, Neil Crud, manager of Pocket Venus, one of the bands who performed, wrote to “protest strongly”. Although there is no denying that drug intake went on, to portray the event as a cocaine free-for-all is absurd and it is blatantly obvious that you went to ‘dig the dirt’ rather than report on an arrest-free and successful gathering. I spent the entire day at Wakestock and drove home in the early hours of Sunday. Having to stay sober, I vividly remember not seeing mountains of cannabis and cocaine, nor did I fall over any comatose 15 year-olds. Drugs are a scourge on society, but to tar 5,000 people with the brush of being in a `massive drugs party’ is an absolute lie.”

The Daily Post, in line with its policy, is pleased to publish the above “rights of reply” and, for what it’s worth, we deny absolutely that we went to deliberately bury, not to praise, the festival. Let me state unequivocally that we wholeheartedly support any venture which brings tourists to North Wales. We went to report honestly on a festival and found instead, sadly, what we later wrote about, and which we stand by. It may well be that, by concentrating on the drug use, we failed to adequately reflect the many excellent things also going on.

However, if the future of the festival is to be assured, then open drugtaking, especially of Class A drugs like cocaine, must not be tolerated. A minority, to be sure, but one which tainted the rest of the festival and which could, if allowed to flourish, jeopardise it.

By highlighting the problem, we hope we may have nipped it in the bud. To any disappointed readers, we say sorry – but not for taking the antidrugs stance we did.

We will never, ever, apologise for that.

Pocket Venus have punch up with Bluetones

 

Neil Crud: 'I got them a support slot with The Bluetones at Bangor Uni, but some mix up led to them not being on the bill. So, pretty pissed off with this so-called mix-up, I fabricated story about a punch up with The Bluetones. It was circulated and ended up making the news.'

Pocket Venus Breedingly drunk

Whisky, bikini girls, and the strangest bar in Rhyl combined forces to produce what was allegedly a night out at the twice-monthly Breeding Ground shindig.

The “pre-drinks” whisky did its job admirably, numbing me just enough to survive The Lorne and The Swan. By the time we actually reached the Breeding Ground, I was already halfway to being gently embalmed. This may explain why I’m fairly sure I saw girls in bikinis parading around with machine guns. Either that, or the whisky had finally started writing its own diary entries.

The first two bands kindly sobered me up by being aggressively bland. Hooper and the other lot (who apparently robbed a crime scene for their white suits) might benefit from an intensive drinking workshop with Chris Yates. With luck, they’d pick up a few tips on passion, energy, or at the very least how to look like they care.

The aforementioned Mr Yates and his band Pocket Venus, as tradition demands, screamed their way through a set that absolutely should have stirred the crowd but mostly didn’t — until the grand finale, when a drunk man leapt on stage to play air guitar with an actual guitar. Yates was heard shouting, “Good to see someone’s making a fucking effort,” which honestly doubled as the night’s official review. If you see this band in future, do try to make a fucking effort — they’re worth 45 minutes of your increasingly limited time on Earth.

We wrapped up in a subterranean bar next to the venue — a deeply questionable establishment run by a deeply drunk barman called Huey. By this point I was also doing an excellent impression of a drunk person. Then again, so was absolutely everyone else.

CrudCast #3

Just went out tonight, and what a mad mix it was. Streaming quality is still ropey as hell — sounds like you’re listening through a wet sock at 24k — but that’s the state of the net in 2001. Doesn’t matter though, because the content carried it, well almost...

We kicked things off with The BT Call, still the funniest phone rage ever captured: some poor chimp at BT phoning an angry Geordie who threatens to wring his “scrawny fucking neck.” Proper gold.

Then it was into the music:

• FLINCH – “Lucky”
  Wrexham lads, smartly dressed, semi-metal with a melodic crunch. “Lucky” is their best tune so far — tight, heavy, catchy.

• CARPET – “One Two Fuck You” (Live)
  Straight out of Rhyl, recorded at The Breeding Ground. Rough, loud, and couldn’t care less. Pure live chaos, bottled.

• HYFRYD
  From the warped head of Johnny R-Bennig, all the way from Gwalchmai. Twisted, surreal, and sounds like it was beamed in from another planet, as was Johnny.

• SKINFLICK – “Two Ton Loser”
  Bangor’s mutant industrial punk crew, always up to strange nocturnal antics. They don’t play by anyone’s rules, and this track proves it.

• HOBO – “Trencherman”
  Ended on something special. “Trencherman” is just wonderful — deep, sprawling, and sticks in your head long after.

So yeah, that was the show. Rough stream, local bands, weird humour, angry Geordies,

[AUDIO LONG SINCE REMOVED - NOTHING LASTS FOREVER - YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT BY NOW]

Pigstock Festival - Denbigh

In a town whose community is built entirely around The Pub, the 1st weekend in August must be a licensee’s nightmare. For unless you are the landlord of the Plas Pigot in Denbigh then you may as well call time & head down to Pigstock with the rest of the population.

I was disappointed to have missed a rocking Friday night, but with the weather just holding off, Saturday wasn’t a let down. This part time reviewing lark has now got to a stage where I am sometimes conscious about what I actually write. As I sat gassing in the field to the prodigy son Nick Grover I glanced in to the crowd & noticed Grasshopper all sat in a row & momentarily thought; ‘Oh shit, did I slag them off in my last review?’ The fear passed quickly, hopefully most bands with any intelligence will respect the fact that I’m prepared to say it like I see it, rather than give a local press type Next Big Thing review.

So it is with hope I don’t have to avoid Strait Jacket on my next visit to Denbigh They have the style, they have the charisma, they have the look (in fact, drummer Chris Grover looks so cool you’d swear he’s just stepped out of a fridge). In their singer, I’ll call him the Grolsch Man (thanx for the drink!); they have the natural front man, at ease with himself & his audience. The type of vocalist most guitarists, bassists & drummers yearn for. Where it goes horribly wrong for Strait Jacket is their original material, err… there isn’t any. Like their Denbigh predecessors, Wild Weasel, Strait Jacket are on the road to local hero status & the tarmac is still steaming. What a band of such obvious talent needs to do is ensure they become anti-heroes. Like I said; they have it all & it’s fine being rabble rousers for events like Pigstock where you’re guaranteed a raucous response, but take a set like that beyond the safety of Denbigh’s borders & the reaction will be very different. I normally wouldn’t spend this long on a band at a festival but I’d just like to stress the importance of original material to a band of such capabilities. Take a leaf out of Fudged’s scrap book (who opened proceedings on Friday) & start replacing covers gradually with your own material. So I expect you to buy Primal Scream’s XTRMNTR 2000 LP & play it alongside Never Mind The Bollocks, drink a bottle of Bub’s Homebrew & start songwriting. I want the results on my desk by Monday morning.

There was something not quite right; due to driving restrictions I was chastised to the consumption of Coca-Cola, & on buying a pint of the said teeth rotting liquid I was stunned. ’60p please.’

Shurely shome mishtake, you don’t set up a stall at a festival & only charge 60p for a pint of coke. Thankfully the town’s traders haven’t cottoned onto the word ‘inflation’ at festivals yet (let’s hope they don’t). Some tosser tried to charge me a fiver for an ice-cream at V2000 last year; he was left with it dripping down his arm as I walked away in disgust. Here you could endure a cheeseburger & can of pop for £2.60, which can’t be bad.

Having missed Fudged, Big Business, K’aenobi, Giro Gypsies, Keaf & Y Moniars the night before I collected eyewitness accounts, all with the same result; ‘What a night!’ With a self-imposed 11pm curfew, the festivities ran on ‘til 12.45am. It must’ve been a good night as a couple of relatives of mine finally dragged themselves from their hungover slumber to get here by 7.30pm having suffered from an incoming tide of beer last night. When I say ‘relatives’ I should be more precise in a town which bears a family tree that is one straight line.

Having warmed her fretboard at Llandudno’s Buzz Club the previous Wednesday, 5’ nothing Emily Gresham calmed things down with an acoustic solo set to much appreciation. I anticipated the worst as the black clouds poised over the event all day finally teetered over the edge & gave a scant warning of possible things to come. Watching Supergrass last year I saw 8,000 people desert the band like rats off a sinking ship when the heavens opened. Here it’s obvious Pigstock has more staying power; with an alcoholic force-field protecting the revellers from the shower there was no need to heed Bob Dylan’s advice & seek shelter from the storm.

Spotting an old school friend, Mark, we watched Carbonari to see how their sound would carry. It didn’t carry that well to the back of the site, not a reflection on the band as Mark did remark [sic] that last year it was loud enough to hear from his house, whereas this year we could converse without shouting from where we stood. Chris White (not being assaulted by bands today) watching things from closer proximity said the sound was excellent from the 3-piece & as they’re serious musicians they just now need to find a level on stage at which to communicate with the audience. I suppose he’s right, but that’ll come with more gigs under their studded belts (The Barfly in Cardiff – see gig guide). It was good to hear new material such as X Rated which’ll hopefully find its way onto their inevitable critically acclaimed debut LP.

The mix of emotions being a festival organiser must be quite a hit – you want to enjoy yourself but can’t relax. You’re getting that buzz of ‘I did all this,’ but at the same time worrying in case it all goes horribly wrong. So when a scuffle breaks out you fear the worst that all hell could let loose. Thankfully it was only a couple bringing a domestic argument out from the confines of their home & into the arena. Maybe a Domestic Tent could be set up for next year? Anyway hats, baseball caps & toupees off to John Evans & his troops for another top year, even the pissing rain at the end didn’t dampen the squibs enough to snuff out a magnificent fireworks display.

‘Neil, if you produce the single, we’ll record it live in one night & mix it on another.’ Six weeks on & we’re still leaning over the mixing desk & Pocket Venus (bassist, Naldo pictured above) have lived in my pocket since then. So a write up on them can be either biased or over critical, but in fact, this is what it’s at. It takes a lot to win an audience over with original material & 30 minutes allocated time. So after opening with a new song that blasts straight into the chorus before playing the once crowd pleasing but now honed Rollercoaster (& better for it), the crowd had to be coaxed into cheering. The denim clad Chris Yates couldn’t resist a ‘Hello Denbigh.’

I’m still not convinced the slow acoustic numbers work in the set back to back & someone mentioned that Pocket Venus are one step away from a Coldplay formula, where the songs are polished ballads in the studio & the band go mental on stage. Those watching were won over when Ginger was dedicated to Chris’ daughter & he asked everyone to stare at her; the ice at this point had not only been broken, it had melted a hole in the clouds to give us the only sun of the afternoon. Like You set the tone & the heads started nodding & How High, a 7 minute hypnotic blast of epic proportions convinced Pigstock that it was £4,000 well spent (whoops! shouldn’t have mentioned that!). When you draw blood from breaking your guitar strings in a frenzy you know you’ve had a good gig.

The bunting draped all over the town also signalled the start of the National Eisteddfod. The thought of 170,000 Welsh people converging on a town that is almost a self proclaimed republic might have serious implications. Denbigh is a town where they beat each other up over a beer in practise for when outsiders turn up, so you can only anticipate the ructions when thousands of Welsh youths leave the confines of their tents & venture out into the badlands. Maybe the 2am beer tent & proposed foam party on the Eisteddfod field will keep the factions at opposite ends of the town.

Mahoney perhaps show you cultural divide doesn’t exist outside the people’s republic. From Leeds, they boast Welsh speaking ex-Fluff guitarist Gareth John. (Un)oddly enough Mahoney sound just like every other band from that part of the world that has played recently in North Wales – Lapdog, Find, Bighead, Cardinals & now Mahoney all sound the same; yes, they all sound good & have great songs, but sound the same all the same. Perhaps it’s a cunning plan by a band to get as many gigs in the area as possible by changing their name!

Oh no, not a bloody ska band, I thought – still scarred [sic] from The Specials, Madness, Selector etc of 20 odd years ago when I was a young punk rocker tussling with the labels, genres & school colleagues of the time. Punk, mod, ska, teddy boys, heavy metal & I didn’t want to be reminded. However the memories Caban (above) rekindled were fond ones & soon my head was nodding in unison with those around me who were skanking to the exquisite sound the South Walian outfit gave us. Back by popular demand the programme boasted; Caban ensured they’d be contacted in anticipation of next year.

I was offered some F’s by a dyslexic pusher

The same can be said for the Cargo Cult Sound System (main pic) that could set a precedent for future years as the night closed in & crowd doubled to more than 3,000. CCSS lifted the spirits of the age with their transient pulsing hypnodance rhythms coupled with a spectacular fire juggling show & lasers.

With 700 gigs under their belts Levellers clones the Bleeding Hearts would find it hard to fail to impress. They didn’t fail & they did impress. Just like this event does every year, it’s only a great pity that every month can’t be August.

I felt for the Goodfellas as I drove to the Breeding Ground in Rhyl for another engagement, the heavens opened in earnest, but it’s certain those who got wet were warmed for another 12 months.

Super Furry Animals – Live at Witnness Festival

Super Furry Animals took the stage at the Witnness Festival in Fairyhouse Racecourse, County Meath, Ireland, during a pivotal moment in their career. Just weeks earlier, they had released their genre-bending fifth album, Rings Around the World, which saw the band expanding their sonic palette and gaining international attention.

Sharing the bill with the likes of Muse, The Charlatans, and Faithless, the Furries brought their trademark psychedelic energy to the Irish crowd. Though no official audio or video recordings of the set have surfaced online, the performance is fondly remembered by those who attended.

The lack of accessible footage is frustrating but not surprising. Like many early-2000s festival sets, it's likely trapped in private archives—possibly even lost. It’s a reminder of just how much musical history remains undocumented or inaccessible from that era. Still, for fans and festivalgoers, the Witnness 2001 set lives on in memory as a snapshot of the Super Furry Animals being as creative as they always are.

Legacies

Today was Nain Betws’ funeral — a solemn moment for Kev’s family, and one more in what’s become a sad pattern these past four years: the only time they all seem to gather anymore is to either marry or bury someone. A clan of professional mourners almost, not by choice but by frequency. It’s tragic how often grief brings people together when everyday life never quite manages to.

I didn’t go to the funeral. Declan's child-minder is on holiday, which meant there was no one to look after him, so the boy and I stayed put. Later, we’ll take a walk up to Knees Up Mother Brown in Betws-yn-Rhos — not to drown anything in drink, but maybe to reflect, remember, and let life carry on in its own messy, unpredictable way.

I’ve always found funerals to be strange rituals. Are they meant to help us mourn someone’s passing, or celebrate the life they led? And once you're gone, what’s left of you, really? A fleeting thought, maybe — a moment someone has when they pass by your old house, or a name that lingers in a half-remembered anecdote. Is that your legacy? Shouldn’t it be something that lives longer and louder?

I sometimes wonder if even someone like Hitler obsessed over that same question — the desire not to be forgotten, regardless of the cost.

I know some people who actually scan the obituaries looking for a funeral to attend — to offer support, maybe, or just to break the routine. Me? I’d rather mourn in my own way, in my own space, without the religious pageantry or platitudes. Let me reflect on someone’s life in silence, or through stories, not hymns. I saw it with Malcolm — the church service wasn’t for him, but done to keep his mum happy. It was a strange compromise: grief dressed up in someone else’s rules.

It makes me think — when I go, how should I say goodbye? Should I plan it in advance? Make it something unorthodox and wild just to throw a wrench in the system? Or should I just leave it up to whoever’s left behind to sort it all out?

But if I do that, there’s a real risk that some vicar will step in to exploit my death — to milk the moment for comfort and control, turning my absence into a platform for their own beliefs.

Maybe I’ll sidestep it entirely. Maybe I’ll just donate my body to science — let a group of medical students have a good laugh flicking my eyeballs across the lecture theatre or playing rugby with my brain. That’d be a send-off no priest could hijack.