The mystic Derbyshire countryside is best soaked in through gin heavy eyes in the black nights, swaying side to side with a load of melodies and pop hits ringing in your heart and ears after a day at the country’s most unique and fun railway station. Here’s a pop fest like no other – Indietracks.
Starry skies above our heads, we scrambled out of the car filled up to our necks with cheap ciders and suspicious ASDA pasties and rolled straight into the first pop discotheque amongst the disco dust, which left our faces glistening and hearts craving the following nights. Another Scrumpy-filled weekend was in the making.
Eyes still hazy, we headed for the brilliant Chorusgirl, opening the festival for us with their midday set of instantly heart-grabbing jangle pop, clear bass lines and Silvi Wersing’s vocals shooting through the crowd into the sky.
Feature, a three piece from London, hit us head on soon after with fuzzy guitars, punching bass lines and beautifully harmonious vocals sweetly bouncing off each other throughout the shimmering set, with the hammering “Reeling” imprinted in our heads long after their gig.
Wolf Girl gave a little gem of a set, hiding in the corner of the merch tent amongst the magic glow of the many zines, 7”s, CDs and cassettes. We also stumbled upon the acoustic magic of the class act Jack Hayter, and giving back a cigarette we owed him, we whisked on to the outdoors stage for the Mammoth Penguins, who took us by storm with Emma Kupa’s clear and dazzling voice singing out true pop anthems, thundering out those epic pop choruses.
We also found Emma amongst creaking wooden floors of the packed church doing her solo set surrounded by guitars and banjo, leaving faces and ears longingly glued to the windows outside in attempt to catch every single sound. The very same wooden interiors of the Railway Church were soon shattered, blown apart and built back again with the pulsing basslines and throbbing guitar lines of Grubs, setting heads and legs fervently tapping and swaying. The Wave Pictures took me back a few years to the small confines of Cardiff’s Clwb Ifor Bach’s bottom floor, my first and most beautiful time of seeing them. The set threw me back, within a few moments, to the magic of those songs that grabbed me by the heart a few years ago, the humbly shimmering gems of “Instant Coffee Baby” or “Spaghetti”, those early moments buried deep in memory now bursted out.
The monsoon that descended upon us on Sunday did not stop us. All of us covered head to toe in waterproof coating apart from Des Death who typically decided to suffer for fashion appeared at the outdoor rainy stage for Colour Me Wednesday, for a despite-the-world-around cheerful upbeat set of delightful, sweet pop songs. The humming hangover from the previous night’s crazy campsite disco delivered by FORTUNA POP! & Morgan Giles did stop me, however, from arriving in time for the excellent Fireworks, barely catching up with the final punch of fuzzy guitars of the heart-sweeper “Runaround”. Sunday was particularly big on the fucking brilliant punk ladies – The Tuts. Nadia, storming the stage dressed in a traditional Indian attire, instantly owned it and everyone’s hearts, waving a gigantic middle digit to any fuckers out there who might have problems with indiepop people of colour, punk women, women of colour, punk women of colour or, in fact, women in general! Thanks, Nadia!
Before we hit the campsite tent for the final night of the dancing in the disco, covered in glitter and dust, Martha stole the show and sent our hearts hysterically throbbing out of our chests with the kind of undying love that bears no doubts for another year ahead with a set so raw, honest, so pop and so punk. Martha filled us with happiness and party and filled the locomotive shed with people, packing it out to the last spaces. Bidding everyone farewell, they came flying out into the crowd, four stormers of the DIY punk scene disappearing into the luminous night, which finished for us with the most dancing set of discos, lost in the dust and melodies, drowned in whiskey and gin, in endless swirls and twirls, hugs and blazing dance moves. Indietracks felt like a long lost home again for those three sparkling days.