Music fans are a hardy lot, willing to endure two days of rain, mud, drunkenness and dodgy burgers in the name of rock 'n' roll. For the 35,000 people who gathered for Witnness at Fairyhouse racecourse on Saturday and Sunday, the challenge was clear: see as many bands as possible, skull as much beer as you could and get a nice coat of mud to keep you warm. A weekend of rock climbing, white-water rafting, scuba-diving and hang-gliding would be a doddle by comparison. Luckily, conditions at the second Witnness festival didn't reach the extremes, staying largely in that grey area between sunshine and showers. The music, however, veered recklessly between the very bland and the very good.
It would be nice to imagine that a festival is a microcosm of the greater music industry, but that would be way off the mark. If Witnness were a mini music industry, then Hear'Say would be headlining the main stage, Steps would be stuffing the dance tent and Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera would be performing acoustic sets in the cafe tent.
But Witnness did provide a - slightly wonky - barometer of music trends. It showed, for example, that a solid, reliable and unchallenging rock band such as the Stereophonics will always rise to the top, just like Oasis and Ocean Colour Scene before them. It showed that talent, originality and a sense of adventure will still get you noticed, as shown by the ecstatic reaction to David Kitt's explosive set in the Witnness Rising tent on Sunday. It showed that our heroes often have feet of clay - headliners Catatonia pulled out of the festival because their singer, Cerys Matthews, is under the weather. And it demonstrated clearly that image is nothing.
It would be hard to find a more dowdy, underdressed, shambling bunch of antifashion folk than these performers. Scruffy jeans, corduroy and combat trousers, nondescript cagoules, monochrome T-shirts and worn-out trainers: this is the uniform of the 21st-century pop star. Apart from the odd Stetson (the guitarist from Lift To Experience had one that looked as if it had been scraped off the road) and tight red dress (worn by Placebo's male bassist), the dress code was designed to blend in with the mud and grey skies. Best-dressed prize goes to the reggae legend Lee Scratch Perry, who looked like a cross between Mr Motivator and a garbage man from Blade Runner.
The 65-year-old may have been well turned out, but he proved another Witnness truism: that legends will eventually let you down. Perry is rightly admired for his pivotal part in the history of reggae, and noted for his eccentricity (he once burnt down Black Ark, his studio in Jamaica), but his creative fire seems to be petering out. He's a gas character all right - check him on the Guinness ad - but, live, he doesn't have much to offer save a few ad-libs and dub beats.
The highlight of the weekend was a mini-legend of sorts, Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV, of Boston, Massachusetts. In his former guise of Black Francis, Kittridge led the Pixies, one of the finest and most influential of American bands. Now he just calls himself Frank Black, and he has been pursuing an interesting if unspectacular solo career. A music festival will always harbour unexpected delights, and Frank Black and the Catholics in the Witnness More tent on Sunday afternoon were a pleasure straight out of left field.
Portly, bald, but still in possession of his punk credentials, Black showed no mercy as he tore through his back catalogue, tossing in the odd Pixies song, such as Monkey Gone To Heaven. The crowed went suitably wild, crowd-surfing to Robert Onion and Bullet, from Black's latest album, Dog In The Sand, and going gaga to Where Is My Mind? Congratulations, Mr Kittridge: you win the mosh-pit-of-the-weekend award. You also win the cover-version award for your brave rendition of Dirty Old Town.
But let's go back to Saturday and an early moment of magic. The Tipperary girl Gemma Hayes was the first act on the Rising stage, but she left an impression that will last until the next Witnness and beyond. Petite and plenty talented, Hayes is a singer-songwriter with enough creative breadth to become an international star. She blew away the seated crowd, making them rise to their feet in a spontaneous ovation. If Hayes was just another American singer-songwriter flown in from Lilith Fair, we probably wouldn't take her so to heart, but we would still be won over by her mix of toughness and tenderness.
Lift to Experience are 100 per cent tough Texan hide, mixing the grunge of Dinosaur Jr, the mania of MC5 and the sonic impact of a Mack truck. Looking like dangerous redneck fugitives and brandishing a buffalo skull, the trio tore rock 'n' roll limb from limb, leaving road kill in its wake. Phew! In contrast, the British band Alfie were moribund, trying vainly to keep that Oasis/Stone Roses style alive, but only speeding its demise.
Johnny Marr is still alive and well, still wearing the leather bomber jackets and still available as a guitar-playing gun for hire. He joined Neil Finn on the main stage on Saturday afternoon, and both launched straight into The Smiths' There Is A Light That Never Goes Out. Finn's band also included the multitalented Lisa Germano and a young Irishman called Declan, who got himself plucked from the audience for the second time this year to join Finn for a rendition of Four Seasons In One Day. Chancer.
Turin Brakes, the Mercury Music Prize nominees, delivered a spirited set in the Witnness More tent; the duo of Olly Knights and Gale Paridjanian may be shy guys, but when they get their teeth into a good self-penned tune, as they do often, they are sublime. Ed Harcourt is also a nominee, but while his performance in the Rising tent was engaging and entertaining, songs such as Apple Of My Eye and Shanghai are all surface, less feeling.
Elbow are up for the prize, too, and their performance on Sunday afternoon won many converts. A little bit Coldplay, a tad Turin Brakes and a mite Mercury Rev, Elbow are slow to sink in, but rewarding once you absorb their dark, emotional aura.
White Stripes are a brother-sister duo from the US, but the Carpenters they are not. Jack White plays guitar and sings, his sister Meg plays drums; together, they create a stripped-down garage-punk-pop sound ripe for cultdom.
And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead have an unwieldy name, but their music drives a straight line somewhere between the Dead Kennedys and U2. Heavy monster riffs are tempered by pop sensibility, making Trail of Dead a much more inviting prospect than your usual puerile American punkers.
Sunday evening saw The Avalanches piling on the samples, beats and live instruments in the dance tent. The Aussie cut-and-paste artists have put together a fine album, Since I Left You, entirely from samples; trying to recreate the album with live instruments was brave and foolish, but they just about pulled it off.
Super Furry Animals headlined the Rising stage, but while their live show was a heady swirl of psychedelic rock 'n' roll, their much-touted 5.1 surround sound needed to be turned up to 10.9. Ice Hockey Hair, Rings Around The World and God! Show Me Magic had the desired effect, but Super Furry Animals have become too high-concept for their own good. They should forget about the multimedia and concentrate on keeping their sharp, spaced-out musical edge.
So that was Witnness, a patchy enough affair in terms of weather and music. But it's the only two-day rock festival we've got.
Next year, can we have more fine new artists such as Kitt and Hayes, more sublime guitar bands such as Turin Brakes and - please, please - no more Texas.
