What more could you want?
Words: Finlay Holden, Jake Hawkes.
Photos: Patrick Gunning.
Welcome back to the finest weekend in indie music. That’s right, it’s Truck Festival – the only place you can catch Barry from Eastenders doing karaoke on the same lineup as Dork’s Down With Boring Live, and Wet Leg. What more could you want? (Don’t answer that – Ed.)
Kicking things off on the Thursday are The Mysterines. Having already made their mark with 2022’s debut LP ‘Reeling’, before switching up their sound with their new record, it’s a set that never grows stagnant. Finding a sonic identity that feels truer to themselves, they fuse personal stories and obscure storytelling into a dramatic, fictionalised world that spills some truths of the band’s journey.
Older cuts ‘Dangerous’ or ‘Hung Up’ sound like a different band in comparison, demonstrating clear, fast-tracked evolution and songwriting strength – but the mixture of both sides makes their set memorable. The band curse at their airline for losing some gear on the way over, but you wouldn’t spot their improv without it being pointed out. When the sun finally rears its head just in time for ‘All These Things’, the afternoon feels perfectly aligned.
The IDLES t-shirts on site are beyond numerous and, still riding the highs of their newsy-worthy Glasto set, the band are having a real moment. In their headline set, old hits are included from a now-acclaimed back-catalogue (‘Car Crash’, ‘Mr Motivator’ and many more), with Joe Talbot gleefully swinging his microphone while watching fans swarm forwards to start an early mosh for ‘Colossus’, but this is a band still building its legacy; their fifth full-length, ‘TANGK’, is the most ambitious step up yet.
Birthing a whole new set of mantras – from ‘Grace’s “love is the fing” to ‘Gift Horse’s “fuck the King” chant – IDLES show is perhaps the most aggressive form of loving you can witness. Talbot’s eyes spark with anger, sure, but also reveal sincere vulnerability as he sings about his mother’s descent to alcoholism and somehow makes it hopeful. “This is anti-fascist music for anti-fascist folk,” the singer announces. Scream in anger and your voice joins a sea of like-minded attendees; offer some love and expect to have it returned tenfold.
Friday
Having made her name primarily through success on the UK festival circuit and rapidly growing her stage presence, a blossoming crowd waits for Nieve Ella’s Truck appearance. Dropping the guitar to embrace rage on the currently unreleased ‘She Gets What She Needs’, she wears the new attitude well with a stage march, and the crowds lap it up. “That’s the first time I’ve ever done that,” she says with a laugh – it certainly won’t be the last.
Scrappy Nottingham upstarts Cucamaras are up next in the tent, and if there’s ever a time that bands pray for rain, it’s when they’re playing the mid-afternoon big top slot at a festival. Alas, the sun continues to shine on Truck, meaning not only are they competing against other stages, they’ve also got the weather to contend with. Luckily, they’ve got energy in spades and the songs to match, amping up the crowd so much that the walls would be shaking, if only there were any.
It’s a main stage slot for NewDad, a big space to fill for a band who only released their debut album this year. Truck’s always been the festival for frontlining new talent though, and the crowd are clearly here for it. Moody indie anthems are received like old classics, and a cover of The Cure’s ‘Just Like Heaven’ had the whole field swaying – it’s enough to bring a tear to your eye.
People in their late twenties look away now, but those bands you loved as a teenager are officially nostalgia bookings. We know, it’s a tough one to swallow, isn’t it? On the upside, it means B-Town alumni Peace draw an absolutely massive crowd and a response so big it can probably be heard in the next farm over. Nostalgia may have helped up the crowd numbers, but this is no greatest hits trip down memory lane, with new songs sounding just as vital as the old classics. They’re a band still giving it everything, and the effort is very much rewarded.
With dazed punters walking into the Market Stage tent in order to shelter from a blistering day of sun, it’s likely some have no idea who Anthony Szmierek is. It’s fortunate, then, that the Manchester singer makes it his sole mission to charm every crowd member into submission with a spoken-word, indie and hip-hop blend that finds its true foundations in his flamboyant personality. Smoothly evading any early career pigeonholing, he saunters around the room and asks the audience to feel each lyric, dance to each instrument, and bask in each feeling of joy.
Making her festival debut at Latitude 2021, Holly Humberstone was quiet and reserved. Three years later, the Grantham up-and-comer has made herself a staple booking, toured the world, and smashed through her debut album era. Even when she struggles to nail a song and has to move on after a second attempt, she confidently handles the mishap and simply drives more energy into the next chorus. Recent EP cut ‘Dive’ shows that although not everything is figured out, Holly is becoming more understanding with herself, an energy which directly impacts her relationship with the crowds for the better.
With the cutting indie of his youth, glamorous rock-opera of his experimental second phase, and most recently the affirming sound of self-discovery from 2023’s ‘What Happened To The Beach?’, Declan McKenna’s set has it all. In his first set at Truck (“That surprised me, really!”) he has a lot to catch up on since his debut dropped seven (seven?!) years ago.
‘Key To Life On Earth’ revives his glam-rock musings with potency, ‘Kids Don’t Want To Go Home’ proves the focussed intent of his writing from the start, but the more recent set additions are the most interesting. ‘Mulhollands Dinner and Wine’ explores the tumultuous nature of his mind, ‘Mezzanine’ flips off the industry with no love lost, and ‘Nothing Works’ assassinates his lifestyle entirely. The consistent creatively shown throughout earns a deservedly indulgent ending, serving as an introduction to Declan’s star power for Oxfordshire and a reminder for everyone else.
Leeds quartet English Teacher’s set is delayed by 30 minutes, but a quiet and attentive crowd patiently awaits their appearance – with their already acclaimed debut record ‘This Could Be Texas’ having been nominated for the Mercury Prize just 24 hours prior, this set was destined to be a celebration. By the time ‘The World’s Biggest Paving Slab’ kicks off the show, it is already evident that a bigger tent is needed next time (if not immediately) as punters lean in for the briefest of glimpses at the group. ‘I’m Not Crying, You’re Crying’ details – at least holistically – the self-identity crises that have happened along the way, ‘Blister My Paint’ showcases Lily Fontaine’s formidable vocal range, and even the deliberately fragmented ‘Broken Biscuits’ manages to unite the crowd in applause. Vocal about their struggles from the beginning, this is truly the definition of a British working-class success story that paves the way for modern bands with similar levels of raw talent.
Who remembers ‘Stick and Stones’? What about ‘Zombie’? ‘Shiela’, anyone? Yes, it’s a headline slot from the man with a veritable suitcase full of singalong bangers – Jamie T. It’s also his first festival headline slot, if you can believe it, something he says on stage but we absolutely have not fact-checked, so take it up with him if you think that’s not true.
If it is his first headline slot, that might explain the setlist, which is one of the most backloaded we’ve heard in a long time. Obviously, you need to save a couple of bangers until the end, but a mid-set airing of one of the classics to keep everyone hooked wouldn’t go amiss. Instead, it’s a relatively low-tempo affair for much of the set, with Jamie failing to hold the crowd’s attention for some of the slower album cuts.
Despite the disappointing start, ‘368’ shows a glimpse of the carnage to come, before an encore consisting of back-to-back hits sees half the festival on the other half’s shoulders, and more flares than a football final. It’s not a perfect headline slot, but when an entire festival knows every word to the last three songs, it doesn’t really seem to matter.
Saturday
NYC rock group Been Stellar use rock and shoegaze to capture the endless noise, and restless nature of their home city, transporting Oxford into that foreign world and perspective for an absorbing 30 mins. This is a group who have found their identity away from the influences that much of the Truck bill embodies, making it a unique moment to witness.
Still young but sounding disarmingly mature, the five-piece make smart, calculated sonic movements rather than rushing to make an impression. Singer Sam Slocum’s passionate vocals pair with drawling instrumentals for a style that’s not always super refined, but that suits them; closer ‘Kids 1995’ swings for great melodic sensibilities and widens the band’s appeal to a now-intrigued crowd.
For her first-ever main stage festival slot, SOFY doesn’t seem nervous at all. In fact, the delighted chatterbox is giddy with excitement, ready to put her relatable qualms into song so you don’t have to. Messy, jokey, but resonant, topics land alongside a sonic experimentation that her live set emphasises. ‘Big Talk’ immediately has arms swaying, she declares new cut ‘Mine’ to be made for big shows and with four guitars blasting out, the fields are satisfied. Fans scream ‘Paint’ as trumpets blare and sing the ‘Socks’ melodies before SOFY can. “This is one weird dream,” she laughs in disbelief, but it’s destined to be a recurring one.
Fat Dog’s rowdy tunes make for a much-hyped set that is probably best described as rave music played with guitars and fronted by a cowboy. Before the band even walks on stage, a fan is raised from the crowd with a dog mask on – the drummer marches on in the same mask and cheers erupt. Clearly, this is all ridiculous from the get-go – did we mention they’re called Fat Dog?
The vibe in the room, however, is far from a joke; moshpits brew as the band builds tension, the saxophone rises and frontman Joe Love strolls on. ‘I am the King’ erupts big-time, with a huge rhythm that is easy for an entire festival to jump on board with, and jump they do. When half the band hops over the barrier and the other half dances in unison, a sea of inflatables rises. By the time ‘Running’ closes off with a bang, the big drops become tantalisingly obvious, but punters are too busy pushing into the pit to raise their phones – this is a band you need to witness in the flesh to understand.
Introduced as “the greatest magicians to do it, with one last trick up their sleeve,” indie favourites The Magic Gang roll up for one last show: the disappearing act. Having helped to define the last decade in indie with their bittersweet, heartfelt signature sound, today is a day to look back with nostalgia as the four-piece head into their last weekend of live performances together.
When the Brighton quartet open with ‘Getting Along’, lead vocals are hardly required (sorry, Jack) with each and every word sung back louder than the speakers can match. ‘All This Way’ continues this trend, and in fact, so does every other song. This band means so much to so many, and bassist Angus Young recounts at least four trips to Truck, making this something of a spiritual home – this is before the crowd sings him a happy birthday, by the way.
All four band members sizzle with chemistry and sound better than they ever have live, which is exactly what makes this such a bittersweet goodbye. “We’ve been The Magic Gang,” Jack declares before the band offers up one last rendition of ‘How Can I Compete’ and bow out for the final time.
Starting their set with the critic-destroying ‘Punk’s Dead’, Soft Play summon huge energy while laughing at their own story. “Soft Play,” Isaac Holman screams: “More like soft cunts”. The long-awaited reincarnation of these former punk prodigies certainly isn’t a gentle one.
Isaac and Laurie move away from aggression to instil their art with a fresh energy that remains entirely unpredictable throughout their recent offerings. ‘Bin Juice Disaster’, ‘Worms On Tarmac’, ‘John Wick’; these are tracks that the duo never would’ve had the confidence to release towards the end of their initial run, but the newfound freedom to do so is glorious.
There’s a vulnerability on stage here, too, particularly during the mandolin-led ‘Everything and Nothing’, which recounts moments after severe grief; the ability to confidently embrace all sides of themselves makes a world of difference to the appeal of their output. A mature combination of absurd humour and joyful experimentation gifts fans with a bold, bonkers and brilliant performance, proving there’s no need to be afraid of change.
As Truck headliners, Wet Leg may be only one album in, but they stand tall as an act with huge success already in the bag and lightning still very much in the bottle.
From the Isle of Wight to the Grammys, their self-titled album caused a riot from conception to global domination and has no less impact two years on. The cheeky attitude of ‘Ur Mum’, explicit themes of ‘Wet Dream’ and screeching guitar lines of ‘Oh No’ ignite the crowds far before the familiar tones of ‘Chaise Lounge’ whir into action; these superstars are far beyond proving themselves a multi-trick pony. “This next song was written at a time when I felt lost,” Rhian says of ‘Obvious’, and the journey of figuring things out plays candidly into their act.
“The first time I heard Truck festival was a thing, I was a cocktail waitress at a crazy golf place,” Rhian recalls – little did she know, ten years later she’d be the star of the weekend.
As Wet Leg admit, having only one released album with a runtime of 36 minutes isn’t the best tee-up for an expansive headline performance and it’s a stretch to make eleven songs fill 75 minutes. There’s an implicit promise of more music to come, but for now, it’s up to a quick Charli xcx cover (‘360’) to fill the extra time.
Sunday
Longtime Dork friends Coach Party have been fairly quiet release-wise since September’s debut LP ‘KILLJOY’, but that beefy collection of tracks is more than enough to ride forward on. From the fuzzy and self-questioning ‘What’s The Point In Life’ to the ferocious ‘Micro Aggression’, which brings the heat with heavy bass riffs, it’s no wonder that the album created such a buzz around the group.
“We got a two-and-a-half-hour ferry here in a van with no windows, so we were already sweaty,” shares lead singer Jess Eastwood, and the fields don’t let the baking sun stop them from generating fire of their own.
Truck has a reputation for getting in early when it comes to buzzy indie bands, but even so, Mary in the Junkyard are one of the newest, buzziest bands on the bill. As they play to a packed and very, very humid tent, it’s easy to see why. With atmospheric clap-alongs and a perfect setlist curve which builds the temp across their 30 minutes on stage, they’ve got the crowd eating out of their hands. It’s day four, it’s early afternoon, it’s hot, and everyone’s exhausted – but Mary in the Junkyard still manage to get them moving.
With infectious songs, culty fans and a vibrant personality, Black Honey are prime main stage material. Izzy Bee Phillips leads the group, donning a Union Jack dress and bonnet for this set; ever eccentric, she defies easy categorisation, and that’s what makes her so magnetic to witness. Rainbow flags wave as the band begins with the sublime ‘All My Pride’, move on to second album track ‘I Like the Way You Die’ and slay the heartfelt ‘OK’ from their most recent effort. The Brighton quartet bring a world of colour to a world that can sometimes sink into monochrome and fight hard to do so; that isn’t lost on a Truck crowd. “You’re all very cunty today,” Izzy smiles, and Black Honey don’t let the side down.
If you’ve never seen Dork favourites and pill-punk pioneers VLURE, just know that they’ve got a bit of a reputation for putting on a live show. What kind of reputation, you ask? Well, at one point, there’s a mosh pit, which is basically the size of the entire crowd. At another, singer Hamish is dancing on stage like a marionette, while guest rapper Psweatpants descends into the crowd in a balaclava to make the pit even bigger. By the end of the set, the absolute chaos has consumed the whole tent, with hundreds of sweaty, bruised festivalgoers emerging back into the sunlight with the biggest grins you’ll see all weekend.
Dressed as goths but showing off a choreographed dance entrance, post-punkers Heartworms reject much of what the genre can be. Confidently establishing a knowing relationship with the crowd with every step she takes, singer Jojo Ome brings a huge presence to the room as guitar licks roar around her; intense ferocity and vigour pulsate through her body, her eyes focusing with pure catharsis. Electrifying punters with the hard-to-shake feeling that everything important and interesting in the world is in the tent right now, she captures an overlooked and often forgotten aspect of what all vital artists should be doing.
“I thought there were gonna be trucks here,” says Mike Skinner, with a look of genuine bemusement. Yes, it’s The Streets at Truck Festival, and it’s exactly what you’d expect. From ‘Don’t Mug Yourself’ to ‘Let’s Push Things Forward’ and, of course, the Biblical banger that is ‘Fit But You Know It’, there’s no shortage of opportunities for the crowd to scream lyrics back at the stage.
Throughout the set, it feels like a church is in session, with Mike playing the part of the world’s most easily distracted vicar. He’s chatting to the crowd between lyrics, getting on a man’s shoulders and instructing him to walk through the crowd, telling people he “feels like Jesus”, and all without missing a beat. It’s utter nonsense, and it’s also one of the best headline sets we’ve seen in quite some time.
Last year, it rained solidly for the entirety of Truck and it was still one of the best weekends of the year, so it’s no surprise that a sunny weekend of indie bangers, soft serve ice creams and more than a sprinkling of nonsense would continue to be in our list of must-attend festivals. Truck have become the experts at what they do – and what they do is very, very fun.
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