Saturday 16th October

Night three of the wildest, craziest rock festival to be held in a pub in Lancaster in the middle of October & your reviewer is, as they say, "up for it". So, clutching my tankard of light ale to my chest and downing my measure of Tixylyx, I bounded to the Upper Room for this years last supper.

First up - Day Job, who incited the audience to "get into us", a nice touch undermined somewhat by their apparent inability to do so themselves. Whilst obviously adoring The Clash and Stereophonics amongst others, such dedication might be better served by writing songs that seem less like pastiche and more like an expression of the self-belief they obviously have. Mind you, the lass in the white top liked them - what do I know ?

Shocking many, Kid Cereal have finally come to terms with their good looks and musical prowess; they have come to accept their true musical vocation; they have, in short, become Lancaster's first Boy Band. Watching the depleted line-up (Lead singer, backing mumbler and him from Hanson on guitar) strike up the first hurrah, I expected the familiar opening chords of "Back for Good". I didn't get it, of course, but over the next half hour the chord sequence I did get instead became very familiar indeed. "We're practising for MTV Unplugged", they quipped, which only confirmed my suspiscion that they hadn't done much for tonight. Pity.

Pity, because the gulf of spontanaeity, entertainment, energy and plastic-clad insanity between them and Born Ugly could not have been greater. Taking the stage with only one Anne Summers outfit between the five of them, Born Ugly proceeded to shower us with shambolic, full-frontal punk rock, cream pies and the finest on-stage dancing I've yet seen. Uniting audience, band and hecklers in a great big shouting match, this was the closest to unbridled on-stage joy I've seen anywhere outside Sweden. The only re-union in history not to be a let-down - Please come back soon.

Trying to follow "the Ugs" can't have been an easy task but The Puma Sutras seemed well up to it tonight. Honestly expressed sentiments and much-improved musical performances swang the audience back from Born Ugly's glorious pantomime to a timely reminder of how powerful a well-directed shot of great music can be. Having an enthusiastic audience seemed to help, too - perhaps they should get one more often.

Perhaps it is time that the Lancaster "scene" had it's own tribute band, and that is pretty much what we got with Nine Inch Neils (sic). Either that or I actually did get to witness a gig by the Fun Loving Criminals. I hope not, for my sake and theirs (Huey- it's time you had your chest waxed), but it did put me in mind of a long-cherished dream - a tribute band doing only songs by Lancaster bands. Perhaps ver Neils are that band; maybe a few songs by, oh, say, Fifty Heads Wide, for starters. I'm sure they'd be pretty good at it. Yes, I think I might have liked to see that.

The "Special Guests" were not, as I had previously been promised, the Halle Orchestra (original line-up), David Soul or Bros:- no, even better, it's Your Dad. All the familiar elements in place:Ian Marchant's proto-Iggy stage antics, the Chas'n'Dave version of "You're Gorgeous" (no chance of a Babybird-style version of "Gertcha", then) and most importantly, a very drunk audience. (And reviewer, too, who by this point was watching Your Two Dads) Whilst I fear greatly for Mr Marchant's safety at the best of times, parading round on stage in a state of undress with Owen Oyston as your accompanist seems, frankly, irresponsible. Don't watch, kids - you'll get warped. Oh, alright then, but only for five minutes......

So goodnight, Octoberfest . I never did get the frothing stein of Weissbier I expected, but then, I should be grateful - I remember what happened to me after March Madness. Hey ho.

Paddy Garrigan