Serpentine Sessions

Serpentine Sessions

06 July, 2009
by: Simon827

It's Wednesday evening and I'm rather excited about going to see the Serpentine Sessions in Hyde Park. Not as excited as I would have been if I had been going to see Monday evening's show, headlined by Regina Spektor, or more so Tuesday's headliner, Bon Iver. But with line-ups that strong on the previous nights, I figured Wednesday evening's main attraction, Tindersticks, could only be an undiscovered treasure who I would kick myself for not having noticed before. On top of that it's a ridiculously glorious day and I can't actually think of anything better to do on such an evening than sit in the sun and watch some live music.

Yet I'm feeling a little short-changed already thanks to the previous two nights getting five bands and our night getting just four. I almost feel like I'm missing out. But I ignore this nagging feeling and head straight for the acoustic stage and sit myself down directly in front of Bobby Long and straight away I'm disappointed when he announces that these are his last couple of songs. I have a huge and secret love of country-influenced acoustic music. Please don't tell anybody. Because of this Bobby Long was quite up my street. Dustin Kensrue meets City and Colour meets some other far more well known country influenced musician who I haven't listened to yet.

Half way into Long's last song and noise starts erupting from the main stage. Which incidentally was in a tent and so automatically put me off considering the weather outside and the fantastic set-up of the acoustic stage. But it seems to be drawing a crowd and so in true reviewing spirit I ensure that I catch every moment of every set.

I'll be honest. I last three songs before Big Star drive me from the stage. Apparently they're fronted by a man named Alex Chilton and he was very good in the 1970s. Imagine all those local bands you saw playing when you were 16. Now replace the inexperienced 17 year-old musicians you so admired with 60-year-old men who probably dance like your Dad and disturbingly make sexual comments about the girls in the crowd. I say girls, I didn't see the subject of the remark. Worryingly it could just have likely been my mother. Either way, they were playing the same sort of music that made me cringe seven years ago and my music taste hasn't changed that much.



Retreating back into the sun and the safety of the acoustic stage, I secure a cider and retrieve my spot on a bench a few metres from the stage. This seems best a point as any to observe the crowd around me and there's a severe lack of one and I don't think this can be blamed on the medium sized group Big Star have attracted. The Serpentine Sessions are deliberately intimate, with the crowd only just filling out the main stage for the headliners and it really makes for a pleasantly populated evening.

Our third act of the night plays just as the sun begins to hit the horizon, and therefore my eyes. David Kitt is promising from the start when he pulls out a laptop and places it on a stall. Deja vu from my original Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly experiences begins to surface and I sit up and pay attention. Yet Mr Kitt isn't the revolutionary experience I encountered when I first watched Sam Duckworth. However, he's still quite enjoyable, vocally reminding me of David Gray with charisma playing along to Modest Mouse when they're in a good mood.

And so the time comes for Tindersticks to show us what they've got. The band have crowded onto the stage, dragging a string and brass section with them, which is always a good thing and the whole intimate vibe is complemented by decent lighting and people having picnics. Despite the surroundings however, Tindersticks fail to blow me away. Don't get me wrong, they're nice enough. And when I say nice, more like really, really fed-up. I would never on any day say they're a bad band, their country tinge really can only catch my ears, but they're pretty much Counting Crows with a serious need for some happy pills.

And so my Serpentine Sessions, erm, session, comes to a close. And although it may have been a little musically lacking, other than my discovery of Bobby Long who can now count me amongst his fans and should probably send me a CD, it was a genuinely good evening. It's like a mini-festival without the crowds or the mud and there isn't much better a place to be on a sunny afternoon than sitting in the middle of Hyde Park watching a man play a guitar.

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Simon827