left: Palmskin, mid-show
right: Andy Gangadeen, sweating for his supper
So, The Bays. London’s foremost four-piece electronic improvisation band, been playing without ever rehearsing for nine years or so, clocking up hundreds of gigs all over the world, some really massive ones, no record deal, no management, no products for sale and no money at all from this—performance is the product and gig fees, high or low, are what keeps this good ship afloat. The Bays all live on the breadline and suffer a constant state of flux to live and perform in this way, and yet somehow it always comes together at each gig where four minds combine, unify and then thrash out the heaviest drum and bass, quirkiest dubstep, most deluxe house, thumpy techno and more styles that will one day become a genre and enjoy a rack at HMV, albeit a very slim one.
Two live keyboardists playing grooves and effects, a drummer and live bass make the line up—all world class players. You’d have to be. They always have their own sound guy and I try to get in on things by my taking their photos, taking their rider and occasionally humping a bit of kit about. Being around such talented folk has always been a huge inspiration for me and I hope somehow this can continue until at least they get some form of recognition for their dedication in trying to prove that maybe music can be just created for the moment and enjoyed in the moment, without it then having to become a homogenised music product, compressed to shit and rolled out in a bid to sell… what—what is there left to sell, or for people to buy? Some days I can’t believe The Bays do technically operate in the same sphere as Lily Allen.
Needless to say I awake on gig day feeling as though my imminent death would be a far preferable alternative to facing the searing heat of the Croatian coast so it’s air-con and toughing it out in the room for me, which, I admit, the cruel amongst us could say was the lightweight option but hey. Happily the day wears on, the place cools a tad, the sea beckons and a pizza and a beer and a swim and it’s hello Tom. Ensuring the kit is in place, the local crew know what’s what and everything’s on time, we then just make our preparations and following a heavy set from Red Snapper, the tension builds as we load on for the night’s headline set. It’s the first night of the festival so the people are peaking early, which is great for us, of course.
Then, man it’s on: stage time arrives and Chris the bass player’s speech is lapped up, possibly just so that it’s out of the way and the beats can commence. It turns this way and that, dark, twisted, deep and beautiful and there’s so much sweaty skin up close to the stage it’s one hell of an image, especially for a band that play UK festivals where all they can usually see is North Face products.
