Summer Party Roundup

Life goes on. In many ways this year’s Summer Party can be summed up by these three simple words. Yes **Stooshe **turned up band-less, backing track-less and arguably talent-less; yes **Ms Dynamite** seemed to have challenged the SU organisers to a giant real-life game of Where’s Wally; and yes the English football team crashed out of Euro 2012 whilst a face-painted **Jakwob **was wobbling around on stage. But miraculously enough, amid the bursts of rain and greying sunshine, the Summer Party remained a mostly delightful affair.

First up on the main stage were 2012’s Battle of The Bands champions, the mathematically challenged, **3=Car**. I must say I found their victory in this year’s musical brawl somewhat surprising, not for any lack of quality, but for their sheer oddity. **3=Car’s** eccentric harmonies and staccato rhythms are a world away from 2011’s Battle of The Band victors Fly By Night who fit much more into a standard Rock Band mould. Their set felt a lot like watching a pre-fame **Foals **or a schizophrenic teenage **Radiohead **– enigmatic and enticing. Despite their eccentricity, the crowd slowly multiplied in number during the course of their short set and they provided an exciting, if slightly challenging start to the festivities.

Hawaiian shirts, tenor saxophones and trumpets? The Over 50’s mid-life crisis brigade has stopped by Gibbet Hill en route to Ibiza! Oh no, it’s only reggae/ska revivalists **By The Rivers**! Contrary to popular belief this troupe of hornophiles (definitely a real word) hail not from Kingston, Jamaica but from Leicester, East Midlands. However, upbringing aside, **By The Rivers** put on a fantastic indie-reggae show. They are, in many ways, the perfect Summer Party band – dance-able, quintessentially summery and fundamentally fun. Moreover they looked like they were having almost as much fun on stage as the dozens of bin-liner clad students bopping around in front of them. An astute booking from the SU.

Luckily the crowd had a little longer than the planned half hour break to recover from their dose of reggae euphoria, forty-five minutes longer to be exact. So three quarters of an hour late and clad in more make-up than clothes, the three members of **Stooshe **arrived on stage to greet a much depleted crowd. Two songs and one merciless a capella demolition of TLC’s Waterfall later, the three members of **Stooshe **left the stage. Rumours spread that their band was stuck at a **Nicki Minaj** sound-check, that they had downloaded two backing tracks “off of youtube” onto their phones before transferring it onto a computer while whispers of “**Stooshe**-bags” echoed from the pun-literate crowd. However, as unprofessional as it was, the **Stooshe **catastrophe failed to make any serious mark on the day for the simple reason that their booking was in the first place phenomenally underwhelming. Nobody bought a ticket on the back of Stooshe’s announced appearance. Students’ general ambivalence to the band spared the event any sense of loss or frustration.

Next up, local Leamington lads **Post War Years** got a chance to wow the crowd. After the feel-good frolics of **By The Rivers** and **Stooshe**-gate these experimental math-rockers felt like an astronomical change of pace. There was a sense that for an audience fresh from the furore of end of year exams and, by this point in the afternoon, touched by an increasingly overwhelming intoxication with alcohol, a band as demanding and ideas-packed as **Post War Years** was a tall order. Their set was undeniably mesmerising and musically impressive but lacked the requisite elation to really move the crowd.

Another pace-shift came in the form of rap/rock collective **Clement Marfo and The Frontline**. Mosh-pits formed as the male-dominated crowd chanted “Get Rowdy” while **Clement** hipped and hopped around stage like the Duracell Bunny injecting some now much-needed energy into a showery afternoon. For the first time of the afternoon there was a sense that this band exists solely to perform live – such is the energy and charm that **Clement **and co. put into their performance. This is another clever booking from the SU – an up-and-coming band that has had tracks featured on the BBC (as **Clement **proudly pointed out), know how to get a crowd going and have bagfuls of sunny songs to match.

After **The Frontline** and their frontman left the stage to rapturous applause, the Summer Partiers split into two groups. The first of these trouped off to Varsity filled with thoughts of hope and foreboding in almost equal measure to watch England take on Italy in the quarter finals of Euro 2012. The second group were the **Ms Dynamite** fans. I am of course using the term “fan” loosely to mean anyone who loves the “I’m Ms Dynamitee-hee” hook from Dy-Na-Mi-Tee, which in most cases is anyone that has listened to the “I’m Ms Dynamitee-hee” hook from Dy-Na-Mi-Tee. It is almost definitely the best act of self-identification ever. Thus, when the on-stage technician announced that they had “lost” the aforementioned Dynamitee-hee, the crowd were more than slightly bemused. Of all artists how had the SU managed to lose a woman that so gloriously announces her name and presence? Why had they not used the hook in a giant, hip hop take on the game Marco Polo? Unfortunately what exactly happened between 7.30 and **Ms Dynamite’s** eventual entrance remains uncertain. I would love to write of how the set was worth the wait, of how **Ms Dynamite** blew away the crowds expectations, of how hundreds of people were united for one moment in claiming that they were in fact **Ms Dynamite**. However, this was not the case. In actuality **Dynamite **wibbled and wobbled around stage for around twenty minutes, slurring through tiresome, uninteresting raps while her DJ made dubstep sound like a particularly wet fart on a loop. The large crowd tried as hard as they possibly could to get into it, but couldn’t. And she didn’t even play THAT song. An astronomical anti-climax.

And so the onus fell on **Noah and The Whale**. The afternoon had been a mixed affair up until the Twickenham boys came on and it felt almost as though a storming set would seal off a successful party while a lacklustre one would sink it. There were significant doubts over **Noah and The Whale’s** mass appeal when compared to last year’s headliners and universal guilty-pleasure **Feeder**, however, these were proved completely unfounded. The folkies have enough songs stuffed up their dapper sleeves to fill a set even longer than the hour they were given but those deemed worthy of selection delighted a welcoming and excitable crowd. **Noah and The Whale** chose their set list well, focusing on the poppier crowd-pleasers of their discography and only dwelling briefly on the more depressing elements of their output. Charlie Fink proved awkward but likeable (fitting nicely into the Michael Cera category) “banter” between songs, dedicating closer and crowd-favourite Life Goes On, somewhat prematurely to the Italian football team. While the performance itself was nothing special in terms of energy or spectacle in a way that **Clement Marfo and the Frontline** was, it didn’t really need to be. Songs as charming as “5 Years Time” and “Love of an Orchestra” speak for themselves and, if played through with any smidgen of vigour and enthusiasm, are more than enough to endue the crowd with a summery, folky, glee.

After the sun set on **Noah and The Whale’s** love-in most of the crowd departed to watch the England football team crash out of Europe. Those who remained on site, gathered at the main-stage for a brilliant assortment of remixes from dubstep producer **Jakwob**. The crowd lunged and bobbed, popped and locked to the wobbling and plunging bass as the DJ danced around on stage looking like an invigorated member of the cast of 28 Days Later. This was the moment when the Summer Party became an after-party. If only Pop were like this…

The other musical stages showcased a whole host of student talent. Highlights included but were by no means limited to Warwick’s resident Joni Mitchell in the form of **Kitty Macfarlane**, the eccentric Ukulele playing of **Freya Bryson** and the jaw-dropping vocals of **Jordan Charles and Monique Perks**.

However for most attendees the music figured as a welcome side-order to the excitement of having access inflatables, bumper cars and beer within a walkable radius. Less than half of the Summer Party budget is spent on the musical acts themselves leaving room for several rides, bungee runs and even climbing walls. Despite long queues during peak times these attractions proved very worthwhile and enjoyable. Though if it was you, dear reader, who dealt me a heavy, whip-lash inducing blow on the bumper cars, I will find you and I will kill you. Be warned.

So there were some disappointments, some catastrophes and yes the weather left something to be desired. But as **Charlie Fink** enunciated, as hundreds of drenched students spelt out – life goes on. Despite all of its problems, the Summer Party was fundamentally impossible not enjoy.