If you like grated cheese on your cheese (dipped in your fondue), you might like the super-camp one-man-band Jack Garrett.
In his matching Hawaiian shorts and shirt, he looks like he’s wearing a cut-off onesie.
He is, in every way that matters, all over the place. His voice vascillates from English to American, from bass to falsetto. From his box-fresh baseball cap to his absurdly coiffed hipster beard, he is every inch the contradiction.
Exactly one year ago to the hour the earth was at the same point in its orbit around the sun. I wonder whether an astrologist would have anything to say about my current bafflement. Back then I was on the other side of this tent not understanding Grimes. Not understanding Jack Garrett gives me the same familiar feeling. That feeling where I don’t understand why I’m not having more fun. Couldn’t I just relax? I mean, all these people love this. They really love it.
And, yes, of course I’m an imperious, over-educated, smug git who hates The X Factor. But I can’t really tell you why I hate it. And I genuinely want to retain an open mind. I keep turning up to this shit, and I know you probably think that I already know what I’ll like, and only came here so I could take the piss, but that just isn’t true. I honestly had no idea what to expect from Sylvan Esso, and it’s not my thing at all, but I absolutely adored them, and they were easily my gig of the festival.
So when I say this is boring I don’t mean it’s horrible, or offensive, or The End Times (like Grimes), I mean just that: it’s boring. And the fact that I can’t understand it upsets me.
It reminds me of the feeling I get after an election, where I just can’t understand why people vote the way they do. I want to be aggressively withering (because it’s fun), but I can’t help but be fascinated by them (like I’m fascinated by spiders under a glass). So I stare, and I wonder, and I fail to get it, and I feel like an alien watching the humans from the mother-ship.
Basically, it was shit.