So she says to me that flat beer can't get you drunk. I mean, that's an inspirational thought. Anyway, she got me thinking about summer in general, festivals spent in less than rainproof tents and, of course, barbeques.
First to be dragged over the coals until barely cooked were Tiny Cuts with their distinctly non-carnivorous approach to alt-rock. Not exactly upbeat, they nonetheless occupied that weird and wonderful land where the question of the pizza topping becomes paramount. Let's just say that, if you happened to be having the audio equivalent of a barbeque, then Tiny Cuts would be the vegetarian sausages.
Continuing that chargrilled analogy, Sister Bitch (hey, there's a name for band…) set about proving themselves more than a supermarket chilled ( but not frozen) burger. Whilst musically untidy, their mix of the post rock pedantic and switched off sixties' raga took them from not exactly inspiring to something more akin to a stoner version of the Jesus and Mary Chain over the course of their set.
The next course was the almost embarrassingly young Napoleon in Rags who duly relit the flames under those barbeque coals with a sparky set of indie rock songs so heavily seasoned with good old fashioned melody that they ended up in powerpop territory. And that would be the American version of powerpop too as they displayed a presentational polish and level of musical skill that are distinctly rare in this part of the world. Napoleon in Rags were the steak that I came here for.
The post barbeque Cornetto, if you like, were Roman Road and they proved a polite and civilised way to round off the evening. Again strong on melody and, I suspect, no stranger to musical education, the presence of keyboards brought a bit of variety to what could have been just another young band. The flames may have died down by this point but there will always be market for ice cream.
Another day and another barbeque over. At least I didn't leave hungry this time.