Becks Fusion 2008

United Kingdom | | 09 September 2008

If you’re a Mancunian Xfm listener, you’re surely sick to death of hearing of Becks Fusions. But for the benefit of the lucky ignorant, it’s a three-day groundbreaking fusion of arts and music, played out in Manchester's inner sanctum, Castlefield, blah blah, you get the picture. Basically it’s a rose tinted three-day music event headlined by the lavish (Hercules And The Love Affair) and the devilish (Massive Attack).

Manchester’s industrial heart, Castlefield, once home to the pioneering D-Percusion and branded Becks HQ for the time being is quintessential Manchester, much more so than the stark modernism of last-years Urbis location. The welcome switch is surely an indication that Becks have had a productive year. Not only have they upgraded the backdrop, but they've boosted the profile of the bands also - that is if Calvin Harris can be called a band, or even an artist for that matter. This year the headline of interest is surely the almost prehistoric, broody bristolians Massive Attack, who will forever hold a place in history for the prolific trip-hop which defined a generation, despite their moments of more commercial output.

Becks should be a three day beer induced party, an aural and visual onslaught to rival those heady days of Madchester. However, Manchester, not one to accept charity has royally stabbed the kind Fusion folk in the nads and decided to buff an already lacklustre crowd with rain, resulting in Thursday and Friday pretty much being wiped out and lopped off before bands have any chance of a fight. To be honest it's not just about the rain, the ticket structure where anyone can win 6 tickets means that the lazy arsed bums amongst us are unmovable (Big Brother anyone?), and those bold enough to venture Beck-wards are greeted by a strange amalgamation of dance pop. The lass from Cicada even offers up ‘prizes’ for the light footed to take the dance-floor and somehow salvage the soulless arena. Predictably the crowd hang back, nodding and twitching with ‘not me’ stairs. 

So as Hercules and the Love Affair take their headline slot on Friday night to a fanfare of few, there’s little the Brooklyn misfits can do. It’s the fault of none. Hercules, if the moment was right would have been amazing, their carnival of debauchery, of savy pop credibly frozen in that bygone NY disco era where Grace Jones and Chicago house ruled all, would have had Manchester on it’s knees on better days. But this is no Notting hill carnival, its Manchester, it's dank, it's wet and the city is in no mood to party.

Off the back of a simmering Thursday and Friday, Saturday is a completely different prospect. The sun shines, the music fits, the crowds appear, and before long Manchester has a voice. Castlefield finally has a soul. However its not all glory, at points it teeters uncontrollably towards the cobbles. Das Pop, Belgium’s answer to Mcfly/Franz depending how you view them, at point border towards the obtuse. During one art 'Fusion', which are attempted meetings of visual art and music, we’re told to implant all our love in a pink balloon. Of course we get the obligitary tsunami, but due to two fantastic sets from Santogold and Massive Attack Becks Fusions is somewhat saved.

The first of the two mighty saviours is Santogold, a very British (in essence) American outfit moulding dub/hip-hop and dancehall who delicately freshen the atmosphere with no hint of fait goading or clichéd streetisms. The sparse angular arrangements are spiky and tight and Santi White’s effortless presence oozes style - she may look like a renegade form of Salt ‘n’ Pepper but she delivers real class. Dispensing with the bucking pop of 'L.E.S Artistes' early on and ending with the vicious dancehall of new single 'Creator' it looks as if the streets have a new voice and source of energy.

Way back when Bristol was a force to be reckoned, one band ruled the trip-hop nation. While Beth Gibbons peddled experimental depression, Massive Attack developed a brooding hope in the form of Mezzanine, a darkly alienating record brimming with depth and scope. Nothing could match the live dooming pulse of ‘Inertia Creeps’ or ‘Angel’, when matched with a backdrop of stunning lights and an awesome soundsystem - Massive Attack were a live dream.
 
It’s been 10 years, a couple of misjudged releases, some pretty dull live performances, and a departure (Daddy G - which thankfully didn’t last long), but essentially Massive Attack are back to prove that what they lack with their limited recent material, they make up live. And thankfully they don’t disappoint. There’s a smattering of the lush and overblown, including 'Teardrop', and the ever popular 'Safe From Harm', but their essence and greatest moments are still defined in the Mezzanine era.

Daddy G’s imposing figure and 3D’s menacing delivery consolidate ‘Inertia Creeps’ as the anthem of the paranoid, whilst Horace Andy (looking rather greyer – offset by his suit instead of his usual ragga pyjamas) delivers a spectacular ‘Angel’. We are forever the purists, and whilst new tracks do stand up (albeit slightly wide of the mark) they serve only to frustrate, wasting crucial back-catalogue time. But what do we expect? Unitil the day when Massive Attack do a full set of Mezzanine (including later hit Karma Coma) they will remain, for us, frozen between some earthly and heavenly state.

There will always be disadvantages of competition style festivals/events and Becks Fusions this year have felt the full wrath. The bare attendance and more importantly soulless atmosphere of days one and two are reflections on mediocre lineups, hideous weather, and unmotivated ticket winners (if you win your ticket, you’ve lost nothing by not attending). But all factors are mute in comparison to Saturday, and proof that two out of three (i.e. great lineup, motivated winners) is enough to satisfy any festival.  

by Daniel Pratley