Since Outbreak’s inception, the festival has been staged in a number of cities, but this is their first foray to London. Started by 14-year-olds Jordan Coupland and Lee Follows in 2011, the celebration of hardcore punk, post-hardcore and an almighty array of other musical genres has grown into a juggernaut which only goes to show the prevalence of subcultural tastes which are hidden from mainstream eyes.
The sign of a great festival is one where you miss so many bands but still have an amazing time, and it’s obvious with the stacked bill across three stages that today is going to be one of those events. Feeble Little Horse, Kumo 99, and Model/Actriz will just need to be seen at some other time in the future.
Over on the main stage, Danny Brown seems to be having the time of his life. When opener “Tantor” hits its stride it’s clear that the crowd are going to holler every word back at him for all their worth. He’s in a jovial mood, a broad smile never leaving his face as he genuinely seems taken aback by the reception of “Steppa Pig” and “Burfict!”
The third stage is hampered by an ever-so-polite but ridiculously long snaking queue that hardly moves. Inside the tent, Have a Nice Life are in fine form. Here is an act that maybe exemplifies the spirit of Outbreak more than any other on the line-up as they were pretty much ignored by everyone when 2008’s superlative Deathconsciousness was released, but since they’ve achieved cult status from internet forums, chatrooms and good old fashioned word of mouth. The opening sludgey riff of “The Big Gloom” is a thing of devastating beauty, and by the time closer “Earthmover” hits you wonder if any other band will reach as big a peak today.
The sound for Glassjaw is unfortunately abysmal, so a decision is made not to stick around to see if it works itself out. The weather’s too good now to be stuck on a stage where a band are playing their hearts out and being let down through no fault of their own. Shame.
The sun’s out over the main stage and few on the bill are better equipped to soundtrack the lazy early evening than Alex G. “Forever” works wonderfully in this space, while the beautifully languid “Walk Away” merely serves to highlight why so many find him a frustrating artist – depending on your view, it’s like taking a long hot bath or enduring the coldest of showers. Today, it very much feels like the former without a shadow of a doubt
Knocked Loose headline the second stage with a masterclass in crowd control and bludgeoning riffs. Drawing mostly from last year’s You Won’t Go Before You’re Supposed To, the set is a brutal display of hardcore sensibilities with more than a degree of camp theatricality from vocalist Bryan Garris who has the crowd in the palm of his hand. The cross that lights the back of the stage serves to highlight the epiphany for those in the (count ‘em) six separate moshpits as the huge tent becomes filled with wanton abandon whilst all the rules of the moshpit are impeccably observed. You may well feel like the guy next to you is trying to behead you with some vigorous windmilling, but he’ll happily and patiently turn his phone torch on for you to help you find your glasses that have been knocked loose (see what I did there?) onto the floor. Lovely stuff. Every single person screaming to “Suffocate” is the absolute highlight of the day.
Turnstile close the evening in slick – perhaps too slick – fashion. They’re a band on the precipice of cracking the mainstream, which is in itself no bad thing, but there’s a feeling that the band are being tailored towards that goal rather than the air of authenticity that this (sub)cultural sphere is built upon. There are some great guitar riffs here – “Pushing Me Away” and “Come Back For More/Fazed Out” being the best of the bunch – but Brendan Yates’s vocals are becoming more like Sting trying to impersonate Perry Farrell with each new release and it’s strikingly off-putting tonight. Still, he’s pretty enough for the mainstream which is just as well. As the rain starts to fall, the crowd has no intention of leaving early as they’re blissfully content singing along with their arms in the air. There’s a general sense of community here which is glorious to see.
For Outbreak to continue to grow – if, indeed, there is a need for such a thing – then they need the Turnstiles of this world to draw the punters in. Maybe a lesson needs to be learnt from seemingly successful festivals of yesteryear that no longer exist (hello, wonderful old ATP!) who tried to overstretch their reach and subsequently killed their previously loyal fanbase. Maybe Outbreak are better at the old finances part of things. More power to them, but they should undoubtedly heed the mistakes of those that went before.
