review

What a difference a day makes. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a festival with such a strange split personality as the first TDK Cross Central Festival. Set in 3 infamous London nightclubs – The Cross, Canvas (formerly the legendary Bagleys), and The Key - and an old freight depot, it was obvious from the start that Cross Central had an image to maintain.

On Saturday, “unofficially the alternative day” according to the programme, the be-mulleted Hoxton fashionista element was out in full force. So full was the main stage area and roof terrace with self-important posers, posing and sneering at one another (CK!), we could not even fully get into the musical gems on offer. The crowd around the Courtyard had no idea how to enjoy itself and, as a result, the atmosphere was pretty poor.

UK hiphop punk Ivory tried to warm the crowd first, but Saturday’s Cross Central remained unmoved by this particular blend of rhymes and guitar distortion. Terry Callier succeeded in lightening the mood somewhat (fashionistas know where they are with a nice safe legend) with hisbeautiful soulful folk sounds. However, it was DJ Krush who truly typified my Saturday, as an entire crowd watched the set virtually motionless, save for the stroking of its’ collective goatee.

A word must be said for the good bits though, and Saturday did have some, the Lock Tavern & Eat Your Own Ears Stage under the archway being one particularly noteworthy success. The atmosphere here, away from the sun terrace main stage, was considerably more laid back, and bands like Mcraft, The Infadels, and The Others played brilliant sets to an enraptured audience.

Sets by DK and Bonobo in the Ninja Tune area upstairs in Canvas’s middle room, were also well received, and the video screen covered room was soon swelling with people. Once they could actually find it, that is. Cheers to Cross Central’s organisers for making it a little bit like a treasure hunt: no directional signs whatsoever, and staff with absolutely no clue whatsoever as to the whereabouts of any of the venues they’re supposed to be “securing.”

In fact while we’re on the subject, what exactly was going on with the attitude of Guardforce’s delightful security staff, or should I say bouncers: that was certainly how it felt at times, anyway. For instance in 8 years and 18 festivals, I have never seen anyone apprehended by security for skinning up, yet we saw two girls, discreetly building a spliff in a corner, pounced upon by a bouncer and forced to hand over their stash, which the blonde dreadlocked “security” chap happily pocketed.*

Here’s where we have to take a step back and reconsider the information. TDK may be billing this event as a “festival,” but then you remember that you are just in another club in London on Saturday night. This is not a festival, this is London clubbing as it is much of the time now: pretentious and unfriendly. Why did I expect that just billing the event as a “festival” would make the reality any different? With the atmosphere flat, and queues growing outside every indoor venue as the outdoor stages drew to a close, we saw Kosheen’s competent live set and then took the tube home to bed.

Arriving a little later for Sunday’s more “dance influenced programme,” we entered site and were immediately staggered by the change of atmosphere across the Victorian freight depot. Gone were the mullets, the vintage high heels and their self-conscious fashion victim owners. In their place were the hoodie crowd I know so well: the laid-back, trainer-wearing types, who I usually attend these events with.

After a quick warm-up boogie to a nice housey ‘Superstition’ bootleg The Lost & Found DJs were playing, we wandered under the archway to the Hiphop stage to catch a bit of the Scratch Perverts, playing to a packed crowd. There was a nice atmosphere, we met some friendly people, and stayed a while to groove with a crowd going crazy to a DnB-heavy Freestylers DJ set, before moving over to the Courtyard Main Stage for Loose Cannons’ electro antics. Rahzel then lured us back under the archway for some live beatboxing action in front of a packed Stage 2, before we returned to the Courtyard to get down and Old School with Jazzie B’s legendary Soul II Soul Sound System, headlining the main stage. The music was great, people were smiling and dancing; it was a totally different scene from 24 hours previously, I can assure you.

Into the night, we experienced the festival’s logistical oversights in full force. It had been a warm day and after the outdoor stages closed, all the indoor venues were suddenly jam packed with hot, pissed off people who wanted to dance but couldn’t in the limited space available. Sure, the festival had an abundance of really nice toilets, but the drinks were extortionate at £4.00 for 330ml Stella in one bar. You had to queue for 20 minutes, goaded like cattle by rude security staff, to get into any of the indoor venues. We were having a good time, but the gloss was fading rapidly.

One of our main aims for this weekend was another good dance to the usually reliable 2 Many DJs, but even their set seemed a little lacklustre in the rammed stuffy environment of the XFM stage in Canvas Studio Three. Later we tried to get into the Bacardi Bbar to see Peter Kruder of K+D fame, but again The Cross was packed; there was no room at the inn: we could not get in, and everywhere else was the same. The place was rammed to bursting and we couldn’t get into a single room. At that point we turned and went home.

* (As it turns out, the girl actually handed over, not her stash, but a small ball of tin foil she spotted on the floor!!)

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