Together the People Festival, Preston Park, Brighton, review: 'A festival the city needs'
Brian Wilson and Brett Anderson headlined
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.My first glimpse of Brett Anderson was as a manic silhouette looming over me, as Suede’s debut album was released in 1993. “Let’s chase the dragon” was a lyric he acted out then. Though looking strappingly healthy now, the Sussex native’s return matches those thrilling memories. From Suede to last year’s Night Thoughts, his band’s work is of a piece, concerned with decadence, longing and languor.
With Bowie’s aesthetic bloodline coursing through him, Anderson remains the thoroughbred, theatrical performer this music needs. Rock gigs have become so passive, but he revives old rituals, diving into a crowd he makes jump and punch the air. And we listen, thousands of us hushed, as he dedicates “The Next Life” to his Mum who died 27 years ago, and sings kneeling, voice husky, yet child-like and sweet. After “So Young”, he twirls the mic in a crowd-bothering arc, its lead wrapping around him bondage-tight, then shrugged off like he’s Harry Houdini. “New Generation” sends us away emboldened.
Brian Wilson makes a hugely contrasting headliner on the first of Together the People’s two nights in central Brighton’s main park. Fellow core Beach Boy Al Jardine and Seventies auxiliary Blondie Chaplin are in tow in his 12-piece band. Wilson himself is often still and stoic in the spotlight, a grave presence at the piano as his music happens around him. “We’ll be rockin’ soon,” he apologises, prior to performing 1966’s Pet Sounds. “But we’ve gotta play this first…” His band’s suspicion of what he terms an “emotional, arty” album seeming to have stuck with him. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older?” his masterpiece of youthful confession and yearning then begins. At 74 and after so many afflictions, Wilson’s voice can be staccato and gruff, but he’s dogged and brave in tackling “God Only Knows”. Most of this delicately meant music is over-amped, and the band are sometimes too slickly drilled. But as the hits return, and “Good Vibrations”’ ecstatic harmony hits its supernal peak, we get glimmers of his broken genius.
Both headliners suit Brighton sensibilities, and are warmly appreciated. In its second year, Together the People is a festival the city needs, easily reached, unbranded, and with local charities working on-site. Ex-resident Gaz Coombes is glad to be back with a one-man show, mixing mature new album Matador with Supergrass’s buzzingly ebullient “Caught By the Fuzz”, now sounding like a teenage folk standard. Peter Hook dedicates “Love Will Tear Us Apart” to Primal Scream’s late bassist Throb, who he calls “Brighton’s best”, adding poignancy to the tearful rush of recognition at the song, and overcoming his painful strain as a singer. Mali’s Songhoy Blues play an elastic, highly danceable trance groove, which finds parallels in The Horrors’ bright, Southend-meets-Rugby motorik.
Louisiana’s Seratones give a serrated, Stooges edge to their blues-rock, with singer AJ Haynes a belter of contained power. Veteran singer-songwriter Chris T-T, found inside a tepee playing to two-dozen fans, adds a needed political edge at a time when Britons verge between blithe, cushioned carelessness, provincial ignorance and despair, with pop adopting the first position. “Worst Government Ever” is easy enough to sing along to. “You’ll Pay For Your Greed In Blood”, though, goes far past preaching to the converted, imagining an apocalyptic reckoning few will escape.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments