Having intended to spend my time at The Great Escape in one fashion (ice cream on the delightful beach, beers in the delightful pubs, bands in the delightful venues), I ended up spending it slightly differently: missing all the bands I intended to see, studiously avoiding all cone-holstered gelato desserts, and accidentally DJing at the excellent Recommender-run Blogger Meet Up.
Planning what to do at a music festival is foolish in the extreme, and going with the flow is the only real course of action.
Besides, if I’d followed a plan, I’d never have caught the bewildering, fascinating, confusing Seward, a band who have so little web presence, that I’ve been reduced to posting this incomplete video of the band as proof that they even exist at all.
—-video will BRB—
Instead of describing what a remarkable band Seward actually are, or how they achieve remarkableness, maybe it’s best to describe the moment that their drummer – a man rapt at the array of gentle, subtle noises a drumkit can make – wound up a toy tin robot and let it dance on his snare drum as he continued playing with a string of rusted cowbells.
There are many bands who approach music like Seward. They are all, without exception, shit. They are all indulgent, self-centred, and unkind to their audience.
Seward are the exact opposite: their timing is perfect, their noises are specific and considered, and their purpose may not be defined, but it is rational. The band is lost in the beauty of noise-making, and the path it beats into human consciousness.
Part experience, part music, all brilliant.
MORE: There is no more…