REVIEW: Kashmir Fringe Day One - 7.2.26
Opening Day of the annual Isle of Wight Talking Festival and the game is STRONG from the off. I've put myself front and centre of the cafe stage area to create maximum challenge. Surely this PA, though small, will put the cream of the Island's chatters through their oral paces?
No chance. Neither the warm timbre of sad and poorly-looking Jimmy Harritty (plus wife, plus pals) nor his fierce but engaging glare can cut through this sonic wall of sonic bullcrap. People are fixing dates, calling the girls up, discussing bar queues, watching YouTube videos while delicate, clever little tunes like "Spearmint" are tossed out like pebbles to be lost in the crashing waves of voluminous chatter.
Everywhere is guilty. But the Island is worst. In the world. There's a guy next to me who's bellowing so loudly into his buddy's ear you'd think he was trying to contest mock rock with a distracted whispering Bob Harris from inside a fully-engaged MRI scanner.
But let's not... let's just not.
Lean forward, close eyes, concentrate and your lug'oles might pick up some distant glories. These might include Jess Leigh Ong and AL Watson's new folk duo turn Berlingo Flick, who gleefully present Island lore like the Northwood duel of 1817 and clever rhymes about dancing with demons in a gloriously Steeleye-ey, acoustic and authentic style. Or maybe it'll be the fun solo pop singalongs of Cara Goodrem, the snare and whistle loopy-tunes of The Anywhens or (more likely than all) the sublime, genius harmonies and powerfully pitter-patter piano of Triami. Effortlessly and amusingly, they wrap the saddest of songs like Little Me in delicate leaves of undeniable sonic gold.
Don't get me wrong - shit got loud throughout the day, too. Voodoo Raven brought the balls-out rockers to the upstairs party, Baron Strange and the Blackbyrds demonstrated how to arrive at a gig packing a hat and a riff to represent each and every syllable of their name, and Pet Lounge debuted an electric and electrifying set of Guy Page introspective noodles that smacked of the lost genii of the 1990s - Messrs Dando, Dulli and others. And all squeezed through a bargain box £20 amp.
Shout back, too, to an opening slice of cheeky posturing and wicked playing from Georgia Nicole and her classy little band.
More cherry beer tomorrow then? Yes. Oh, and the dog? That's Alfie. What a sweetie.