The Larmer Tree Gardens were created at the end of the 19th Century as pleasure grounds for ‘public enlightenment and entertainment’, and were the first private gardens opened for public enjoyment in the UK. Close to Shaftesbury, at one point Madonna lived next door, and since 2006 the gardens have hosted the season-closing End of the Road festival.
It’s a small (15,000 capacity) but perfectly formed set-up that punches well above its weight.
In the past, headliners have included Patti Smith, Tame Impala and St.Vincent, and the carefully curated line-up usually foreshadows the noisier big-brother festivals of following years.
Thursday starts at a leisurely late afternoon pace with Manchester’s Westside Cowboy and their quality take on nineties indie, and a cinematic, dreamy set by Youth Lagoon.
The night however, belonged to Sharon Van Etten and the Attachment Theory. I’ve heard mutterings from others that her self-proclaimed first headline set may actually have happened at Green Man, but that’s irrelevant. This was a commanding, triumphant set that showcased the fact that Van Etten is having a serious amount of fun on stage these days, helped by the chemistry generated by The Attachment Theory. There was shimmying, silly accents and poignancy underpinned by a sublime seventeen songs spanning her considerable back catalogue.
Makeshift Art Bar presented an insistent set in the Big Top, which looked to have been inspired by their parents’ record collection, in particular the Tangerine Dream and Joy Division sections, a theme that was noticeable across the weekend. There was a bit of comedy with Harriet Kemsley and a very funny and rude Grace Campbell.
Matt Berninger gamely answered questions on cake and little brothers, before Goat played a slightly soggy but captivating Woods Stage. Lisa O’Neill’s hour was an enthralling one, with her plaintive voice telling stories of past events that still resonate now.
If you are familiar with the oeuvre of The National, you’ll know that a Matt Berninger solo set won’t deviate too far from seeing him with the bigger band. There will be shape-throwing, communion with his audience and even the possibility of brain-eating, metaphorically speaking. The mild-mannered presentation of that afternoon’s Q&A gave way to all of the above with a set that encompassed his two solo albums, a cover from his favourite band (Terrible Love by ahem, The National) and spirited, enjoyable covers of Blue Monday and All Apologies.
Search Results are an Irish three-piece, and my notes show the words ‘massive spectrum’. There is shouty, angsty stuff, as well as beautifully melodic moments and there can’t be many songs that mention Goldie Hawn in Overboard and The First Wives’ Club. They also took me down a rabbit-hole of singing drummers which brought Karen Carpenter, Grant Hart and Phil Collins to mind, in a good way.
Brighton’s The New Eves summoned the good demons by being an anti-Last Dinner Party, but the highlight of early Saturday was TVOD. Noisy, bouncy Brooklyn-based fun, they were a party that no-one wanted to leave.
It’s always been the case with Kristin Hersh that no-one is ever quite sure which kind of set one will get. The re-formed Throwing Muses, consisting of Fred Abong, now Hersh’s partner, her son Dylan and ‘Cello Pete’ play what turns out to be a nervy set packing 23 songs into an hour. It misses the lightness that Tanya Donelly brought back in the day, but is still a compelling return.
Throwing Muses
To go from Hersh into Viagra Boys might seem a little unwise, but (aside from an unseemly stand-off between two blokes in their 60s and 70s) it’s a joyous set that brings together fans of every age and persuasion to sing (bellow) along with the love god that is Sebastian Murphy. That the band donated their fee for the gig to Doctors Without Borders/MSF was the proverbial cherry.
Sunday morning saw a packed tent watching Rob Auton and JF Abraham reprising their ‘Words With Music’, first seen at last year’s festival. It’s a beautiful life-affirming start to a soggy Sunday, and is continued with a recommendation from TVOD to check out their friends Adult DVD. More bounciness, synths and according to their set-list, Sadman Mancave if it lit. Reader, it indeed was lit. Go and see them.
Continuing the theme of singing drummers, an excitable Squid were more than pleased to be playing the main stage for the first time. And they rocked it.
The night though, as it should, belonged to Father John Misty. Yes, he’s been problematic, it’s a band consisting solely of middle-aged white men, and his lounge-lizard act could be perceived as a little hackneyed, but he’s transcended all this with his latest album Mahashmashana.
Father John Misty
He walks on stage in a non-ironic brown suit, and proceeds to look directly into the eyes and souls of everyone on the front row. He plays for almost two hours, casually tossing out Mr Tillman and Chateau Lobby early in the set, and finishes with a gorgeous lo-fi version of Real Love Baby. Some say that they walked away from that stage pregnant. Even the men.
In summary, this year’s festivities threatened being derailed by the huge rainstorm forecast. There’s no denying that it had an impact, but after years of (usually) great weather across this weekend, the survivors declared 2025’s festivities to be of a particularly good vintage.
Same time next year?
Words and pictures by Sam Gray
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