Thursday
As we sat in the unmoving line of traffic snaking through the countryside, with the car park supposedly some three miles or so off, everyone was thinking the same things: “This doesn’t usually happen” and “Are we going to make it in time for Geese?!”
Sometimes it takes something to go wrong for you to realise how you take for granted the fact that it normally happens so smoothly. Thousands of people descending on a small area in the Dorset countryside seems like a recipe for disaster, but every year it happens like clockwork – so much so that regular visitors to End Of The Road are calm about arriving in the mid-afternoon on the Thursday, safe in the knowledge that they’ll get in, set up camp and have time for some beers before the evening’s entertainment gets into full swing.
But not this year. As the hours ticked by with barely any movement, those sick of waiting in their cars started walking up and down the line of traffic, swapping theories about what was happening. Locals said there was a road resurfacing job that had overrun, others hypothesised that the attraction of Geese brought more people down for the Thursday than usual. The truth was probably a combination – and perhaps some other factors.
The upshot is that I missed the majority of the expanded Thursday offerings; I was gutted to miss Jennifer Walton and YHWH Nailgun in particular.
More positively, we did manage to find a campsite around 8pm and set up our tent in the semi-darkness, giving us just enough time to join the throngs for the headline set.
And after all the stress and tension of the preceding hours, the New Yorkers needed to deliver. I needn’t have worried, a stress dissipated within minutes of Geese taking the stage. The slow burn opening of “Husbands” teased the crowd into hypnosis, the first congregational mewlings along with Cameron Winter as strong as expected. Across the next hour plus, they played the entirety of last year’s Getting Killed and select highlights from the preceding 3D Country, with the guitars roaring louder than they seem on record, which in turn egged the crowd into greater fits of ecstatic singing.
Their impact on the crowd cannot be overstated. Some of the exclamations heard around me included “we are witnessing greatness” and “there’s nothing else like them; they don’t play by the rules”. While certainly hyperbolic, these expressions are understandable when you’re in the glare of the thunderous guitars of “Getting Killed”, the loose-hipped singalong of “Cobra”, or the fairly virtuosic downpour of “Long Island City Here I Come”.
Friday
The first full day of the festival started in more low-key fashion with the charming set from American songwriter Alex Amen. Between songs, he regaled us with tales of his moves around the country over recent years, which only added to the hang dog Americana warmth of the tunes themselves.
A secret set on the festival’s legendary Garden Stage was an intriguing proposition, and we showed up to find Ty Segall and his wrecking crew playing their brand new album Chrome front to back (they would also play a more greatest hits type set on the main stage later). Though the album’s freshness probably meant there wasn’t a lot of familiarity among the audience, that doesn’t matter at a Ty Segall show: they absolutely rock the fuck out with hair-raising riffs and that’s never not awesome – with Segall practically bouncing off his guitar in glee. Plus, they added a couple of fan faves on the end too.
Wild Pink on the main stage brought their loud softness to scorching life. Also playing from a fairly new album, their position in the middle of the afternoon was perfect; giving people a dose of volume without intensity. The open-armed honesty and generosity of John Ross’ songwriting invited in all comers to sit on the grass and pass a beautiful time under the greyed skies.
Though not an official headliner, there were very few – if any – acts over the course of the weekend that had people so united in excitement as Angine de Poitrine. The field started filling up long before their set started, which gave plenty of time for speculation about the people setting up the instruments on stage – faces covered of course, to protect their anonymity. When the time came for them to play, the attention was wrapt and their command over the crowd absolute.
At this point it’s worth mentioning that for this End Of The Road, it’s 20th edition, big screens had been added either side of the main stage – and they really proved their worth during Angine de Poitrine. Not only did it enable everyone to see up close their legendary outfits and intricate playing, but when they effortlessly got the whole audience to bob along with them, the cameras were able to show just how widespread their infectiousness was throughout the crowd. Their high-energy noodling transmitted through bodies from back to front and tuned minds to their intergalactic vibration. Hands went up through the set to reflect back their symbolic triangle and the effect held through the weekend, with the symbol cropping up time and again.
As evening fell it was time to enjoy Model/Actriz. The American drag punks never miss a chance to put on a show – even if it is in a strange Big Top in the middle of the British countryside. Testing out the newly arranged arena’s dimensions, singer Cole Haden followed his heart’s desire and waded into the crowd to get intimate with bodies of all shapes and sizes while maintaining poise and precision vocally, keeping up with his bandmates’ unrelenting onslaught onstage. When he returned to his rightful position, Haden span like a whirligig along with the band’s crashing brilliance – they’re becoming a more ferocious live act every time I see them.
While most went to see Mac DeMarco headline the main stage, I zagged to the Garden to see the wonderful Caroline. In the verdant surroundings, their brand of post-folk soared and fluttered with graceful ease. They mentioned how they’d been to EOTR many times and specifically mentioned Low’s headlining performance on that very stage in 2019 as something they aspired to. I was at that Low show and it remains one of my abiding memories in all my years of visiting this festival – that night the Earth truly quaked beneath their magnificence, so it’s quite something for Caroline to attempt to live up to. But I can say that at the peaks of this set, particularly during the closing “Total Euphoria” – where all their members scuttled around the stage, immersed in the din – they emulated their heroes perfectly.
The late night offering in the big top was Colombia’s finest Ela Minus, who delivered a truly slamming set. She briefly spoke to say that she was meant to play at EOTR in 2024 and 2025, but for various reasons couldn’t make it to either. Well, she more than made up for it here, with a packed tent in thrall to her analogue techno chops, which swept any tiredness out the legs of the masses and had them moving across the grassy floor as if it were a high-end urban nightclub.
Saturday
Saturday once again started softly, as any good day at EOTR should, with June McDoom providing the delightful introduction to the musical offerings. With her debut album on the horizon, she and her newly assembled band treated us to spindly and beautifully haunting previews of what we can expect from it – and there’s plenty of reason to be excited.
Turns out Angine de Poitrine were not the only fully outfitted band of the weekend, as Ak’Chamel, the Giver of Illness proved to be equally strangely garbed in some kind of ritualistic attire (also similar to what many hungover people that morning may have looked like first thing). However, where the French Canadians got to play on a cooler day in the open air, this trio were in the stifling mid-afternoon heat in the Big Top – but that didn’t prevent them from putting all of their effervescent energy into things. From the sludgy opening to the more full-on punk of the majority, they put their whole ass into this performance, and even though they finished quite a bit earlier than advertised, nobody could have begrudged them.
Something truly different was in store next back in the Garden – the Highland bagpipe Brighde Chaimbeul. Listening to her droning pipework on record is spellbinding enough, but seeing her recreate it live with minimal fuss despite the evident coordination that goes into managing the pumping, playing, looping and sometimes singing is frightfully awesome. She joked at one point that her pipes were used to wet and cold and were playing up in the hot and sun, but she wrangled them to her will ultimately and delivered one of the most resounding performances of the weekend.
Amidst the hipster-friendly trappings of the EOTR lineup there is always a good dose of so-called “world music” to be found, and I was delighted to take a chance on BCUC (which stands for Banta Continua Uhuru Consciousness) and found them truly invigorating. This collective of drummers, singers and instrumentalists was led by a James Brown-type figure who ensured the crowd remained on their toes to tap along to their stomping rhythms. When they announced they had one song left, despite there being 20 minutes to go in their set, the crowd was saddened – but he reassured us it was a long song. We were not disappointed as they filled the rest of their slot with an epic that switched from rhythmic to tribal to a pump up jam, tugging our bodies in tow with ease.
I was back on my hipster shit next with a visit to Shallowater’s set to see them traipse through cuts from their great 2025 album God’s Gonna Give You A Million Dollars. The slow core sound transported us to grand American landscapes with ease and sounded perfect under the baking heat that stilled the air inside the Folly.
A quick jaunt across the site brought me to the second half of Just Mustard’s set at the Big Top. While bright outside it was dark in the tent – ideal for the Irish band’s brand of take-no-prisoners shoegaze, which came across like a battering ram from the stage. Vocalist Katie Ball is demure of stature, but when she surfs those waves of undulating noise she seems gigantic.
Once again with the kind of vibe shift only feasible somewhere like EOTR, it was time for Beverly Glenn-Copeland in the Garden. The legendary singer’s voice is even more rich and textured live, and as she danced with her wife merrily the romance was undeniable. They also had the crowd sing along with them, giving almost lessons to make it all the more tuneful – though we could never live up to the standards of their classic voices.
Eventually it was time for Pulp. This being EOTR’s 20th edition, they’d gone all out to get this booking and the legendary band did not let them down. In fact, if this was an audition for a headline slot at a bigger festival – Glastonbury is surely not out of the question – then they passed with flying colours.
This is despite the fact that Jarvis Cocker and co decided to play one of their most rarity-packed sets ever, laden with obscure b-sides unplayed since the 90s and some never played at all! This did not impact on their enjoyableness in any way, though, as they slapped as if they were tried and true crowd pleasers. Cocker also provided us with a photo slideshow between songs, talking us through the band’s early days and giving the context in which these rarities were written.
Tracks from last year’s comeback album More also abounded, with “Tina” and “Spike Island” being particular highlights. And of course there were hits in there too. “Babies” was a smash, while “Common People” had the predictably enormous impact of having a whole field howling along to the well-loved lines and dancing like mad people. While some may have grumbled about the omissions of “Disco 2000” and “Help The Aged” from the set, nobody can really have had any major complaints as, across the two hours of fun, Pulp brought the swagger and assuredness you expect from a band of their caliber. I’m sure Emily Eavis will be in their inbox very shortly.
A special treat awaited those who then hot-footed it over to the Big Top: a re-enactment of Talking Heads’ Stop Making Sense. Now, nothing could come close to seeing the real thing, but getting to sing along en masse to top quality renditions of “Psycho Killer”, “This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)”, “Girlfriend is Better” and so many more classics was truly joyous. And props must be given to their remixed version of Tom Tom Club’s “Genius Of Love”, which was turned into a damn fine mashup with the Mariah Carey cover/sampletastic hit “Fantasy”, with the backing singers relishing the chance to show off their pipes.
Topping off the night in the Big Top was Kelly Lee Owens. Much akin to Eli Minus in the same slot the night before, the Welsh wizard delivered slamming techno that had the masses enthralled. She also played out some crowd pleasers, with Basement Jaxx’s “Where’s Your Head At” practically sawing a hole in the roof of the tent, and a pumped up play out of Radiohead’s “Everything In Its Right Place” deepening the masses’ trance. Having seen KLO at many festivals over the years – including EOTR – it’s always a joy to see her adapt and grow her onstage prowess to meet the moment.
Sunday
The final days started for me with a visit to the Piano Stage in the woods to see a brief but brilliant secret set from Cleo Reed, whose main set I’d missed the day before. The young creative protest singer gobbled up the stage with her voice and presence. Obliged to play a cover on the Piano Stage, she trotted out a rendition of “This Land Is Your Land”, which she deftly turned into a raging diatribe about how the song itself has been inappropriately used by so-called patriots. She then turned to her own “Women At War” to burn the place to the ground.
Over on the main stage we found Ratboys deep in the groove. The quartet have been kicking around their recent album Singing’ To An Empty Chair for a few months now and are generally a seasoned live band. That doesn’t stop their performances from being emphatic and their tightness is truly satisfying, especially as Julia Steiner’s smile continues to beam along with her voice throughout.
Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band returned to EOTR for a second consecutive year, such has been the slow-burn success of their excellent second album New Threats From The Soul. This year they were on the smaller Garden Stage but probably drew a larger crowd – who were treated to a a loud and vibe set from the sextet. They stretched out “Monte Carlo / No Limits”, soared through “Flashes Of Orange” and had everyone head banging along to “New Threats From The Soul”. And I don’t think anyone else in the world could look as cool with a piano flute in their backpacked except RD.
The early evening headliners on the main stage was eternal faves Super Furry Animals, who came out guns blazing with “(Drawing) Rings Around The World” and doprred “Hello Sunshine” not long after. I saw dads dancing with baby daughters and the world seemed right.
However, I dropped out early to go to the Garden Stage and catch the wonderful ØXN. The more harmony focused of Radie Peat’s bands (the other being Lankum) brought their gorgeously droning prowess to this most sanctified of stages just as night was falling. There was an undoubted air of witchcraft amidst their playing, as if they were brewing up an aural potion. I know I’m not alone in having drunk every last drop with delight – through my ears, of course.
The last official headliner of the weekend was CMAT, who – as she mentioned in the set – has gradually worked her way up the stages over the years at EOTR. Taking the top slot was a moment of becoming for her and she took it grandly, kicking things off boldly with the rambunctious “Jamie Oliver Petrol Station”. While I’ve enjoyed her music, I’ve always wondered at how her star has risen so high, but seeing her on stage like this she has an undeniable star quality that satisfied my curiosity and kept me focused throughout.
The weekend had been strangely devoid of Dolly Parton tributes (at least in the acts that I’d seen), but perhaps they were all just leaving it clear for CMAT, who wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass and duly belted out a great cover of “Jolene”. From there she was downhill skiing through people’s happiness, dropping off numerous bangers, getting people pulling out the moves to “Take A Sexy Picture Of Me” and two stepping along with “I Wanna Be A Cowboy Baby”. Ultimately, she left nobody questioning her worthiness of being a headliner – and undoubtedly there will be many more slots like this to come for her.
My final stop of the weekend was Anna Von Hausswolff, who just happened to be celebrating her 40th birthday. And what a way to do it, her gothic musings filling up the Big Top to its peak, her band’s epic riffing – and sensational sax playing – an intoxicating combination on top of all the other intoxicants that had already been imbibed over the course of the weekend. A thrashing, theatrical and thunderous place to leave it.
