Slam Dunk South; traditional kick off to the UK festival season, it delivers the elusive festival highs and global lineup that sets the bar for the rest of the summer. A political undercurrent cuts through the day, like the rain clouds which threatened and never burst into controversy, but so did a sense of genuine fun. The world outside might be stressful, but for one day, in one field? We had the best day of the year so far.Â
Words: Kate Allvey  Photos: Penny Bennett, Abbi Draper-Scott
The Meffs
âAll we had to do is say we were a skate punk band and they let us in,â laughs drummer Lewis Copsey, but the Meffs are fooling no one. Their brand of old school punk renewed and boiled down to its essentials is a political wake up call, all shouted slogans and wobbly, ominous guitar solos from Lily Hopkins. âWeâve never seen a mosh pit in the morning time before,â she grins as we get in our first slam of the day to their cover of the Prodigyâs âBreatheâ.âDeathwishâ gets fists raised before we boo in âBroken Britain, Broken Brainsâ, rife with strong political statements and no compromise. The Meffs are effortlessly rowdy and purposeful, which is what makes them so powerfully dangerous to the establishment.
Dream State
Opening with a scream, Dream State deliver a rousing lunchtime boost, causing a waving sea of hands disproportionate to their time slot. Circle pits ripple as as Jessie Powell sweeps into the melody of âStill Dreamingâ. âWe have no management, we have no record label, weâre an independent fuckinâ band!â she screams as the synths rise on âBloomâ. Itâs an admirable showing both for the pull on the crowd and a band who pour a drop of early originality into the day. âWhite Liesâ, ferocious and introspective, sparks the first rave moment of the day, setting us up for more excitement.
Point North
Past and future combine with spacey effects and classic pop punk energy for Point Northâs âWorld Vs Peaceâ. Spring loaded and caffeinated, they offer scant pauses but throw in big numbers one after another for their second trip to Slam Dunk, gathering enough fans along the way to cram their corner of the field. âInto the Darkâ belts out appealing melodic echoes and shred like a plane taking off and âBring Me Downââ cuts a bit deeper with a bass focus and a heavier darker breakdown, while a man dressed as a giant lobster crowd surfs merrily in front of this very promising early band.Â
Movements
âAfraid to Dieâ slices into resonating sincerity as Movements appear on the main stage. Theyâre dwarfed by the setting but their sound is huge, âLead Pipeâ booming out, carried by the rising wind.Slightly lofi and desperate with touches of desert rock,âFail Youâ bursts into realism, swerving in and out of focus. Movements boast a subtlety in their alt sound, âFull Circleâ an emotional stream of consciousness with cantering drums before âColourblindâ jolts into life, illuminating the afternoon.
Heart Attack Man
They might be half an hour late onstage, but the Hammy Nation donât care in the slightest. Heart Attack Man kick off with âPitch Blackâ, more soulful than we remember and packed with good honest yelping plus enough guitar to shake the roof. âLeap Yearâ with its maximised nineties guitar is a party song live, stacked with purity and joy in each note. We dance in the face of our own mortality to âJoyride the Pale Horseâ as Eric Egan bounces above us, one hand tucked behind his back. âThis next songâs about dying!â The vocalist jokes, going double time through âLay Down and Dieâ, giving us a brief space to air our resistance to the inevitable through the happiest nihilism of the day.
Rain City Drive
The crowd is massive and weâre bathing in the super atmospheric watery chimes of Rain City Driveâs âLose My Composureâ, complete with with pop droplets rising through depths of emotion. âOver Meâ booms heavy and light with stadium potential, channeling dreamlike nightclub energy with a sense of motion and a lovely acoustic finish before whirling straight into âWish You The Bestâ. All in black, theyâre almost lost against the backdrop, their music speaking for itself.
Stray From the Path
If youâve ever wanted to see an ocean of people losing their damn minds while Drew York spits bars, you need to catch Stray From The Path drop âNeedful Thingsâ at Slam Dunk. Itâs so dark, with threatening Freak On A Leash tuning that almost causes the clouds to break. âMay You Live Foreverâ burns with combative cohesion, as York whirls onstage, a swaggering tornado, before âIIIâs air raid siren guitar kicks off the pit. Stay From the Path wear their hearts proudly on their tattooed sleeves and weâre on the same wavelength for one of the tougher sets of the day.Â
Mouth Culture
Grinding, vitriolic and glorious, Mouth Culture spill out of punkish britpop with glitching movie soundtrack rage. Theyâre eloquent and furious with the occasional fuzzy pause, and as a band theyâre only getting stronger with each show. The smallest tent is packed out for their Slam Dunk debut, heads bouncing to âNo Shameâ as vocalist Jack Voss shouts out his frustrations. âDead in Loveâ is full of noughties cuts with a harsher indie acidity and feathery guitar, the strange delicacy to guitar that reveals dramatic bass, and while itâs their first time here, we know for a certainty that Mouth Culture will be back.
Hot Mulligan
The appearance of Nathan âTadesâ Sanville on the main stage sparks a mass migration across the field, his first scream on âHow Do You Know Itâs Not Armadillo Shells?â speeding up our feet. âDrink Milk and Runâ eases us into Hot Mulliganâs set with just a touch of whimsy, open and resonant with a seismic bass boom that skips into guitar waves. âBanter is hard and so am I,â jokes Sanville, his words appearing in full caps in our imagination. âFly Move (The Whole Time)â fits perfectly into a set that stretches across their back catalogue and is far too good for their time slot, wrapping us in the complex, honest embrace of Hot Mulliganâs vibrant world.Â
Streetlight Manifesto
Bouncing back from their time away stronger than ever, the band with the biggest brass section in modern ska know how to bring it. âThe Three Of Usâ sends them crashing into view: itâs incredibly tight, Tomas Kalnokyâs slightly rough around the edges vocals, their take still innovative and narrative-focused. Their small but determined cult following are absolutely overjoyed to hear âWe Will Fall Togetherâ as spontaneously dancing stretches out to the back of the tent, the song faster than we remember but just as fast as it needs to be. Streetlight Manifesto have been away for far too long and weâre as desperate for their idiosyncratic ska professionalism as ever.Â
The Used
âTonight, we are celebrating 25 years of the Used,” declares Bert McCracken, and âcelebrateâ is the right word. Even if youâve said goodbye to your teenage emo self, youâre drawn to the Used in full force today. âLet It Bleedâ sparks a rapturous dance before âAll That Iâve Gotâ builds to a solemn and sincere singalong, a beautiful moment in remembrance of how we survived the bad times. The frontman knows how to play us with his trademark good-humoured antagonism, slowing, breaking and rebuilding each song before encouraging the old tradition of booing. The Used have found a niche as elder emo icons and reliably put on a show that brightens our blackened hearts.
Less Than Jake
Thereâs a small corner of the world for whom Less Than Jake are incredibly important, and that segment of the punk population are out in force today. The tent is rammed long before opening classic âGainesville Rock Cityâ, and itâs not pure nostalgia thatâs driving us. As Chris DeMakes puts it, theyâre âstill Less Than Jakeâ, capable of turning any show into a mini stadium. âLie To Meâ sparks into âJohnny Quest Thinks Weâre Selloutsâ as beachballs bounce across the pit, and new song âWalking Pipebombâ proves Less Than Jake are still a powerhouse capable of bringing the good times.Â
Electric Callboy
We expect maximalism from the Germans, but somehow we were still unprepared for how much they threw at us. For many, Electric Callboy were the band of the festival, and the sight of the vast Main Stage West crammed with neon fans jamming to self-described porno-metal was the stuff that festival dreams are made of. âElevator Operatorâ sends the fireworks flying and the highlighted fringes from the dual vocalists flicking as weâre âDancing Like A Ninjaâ to their irreverent pop gold. Their brief moments of seriousness are iconic: as theyâve roped in Frank Zummo, ex-Sum 41, on drums, why not drop in a cover of âStill Waitingâ? Itâs the perfect song to resonate with the nostalgic crowd. Equally perfect is their setup for a romantic, campfire cover of Linkin Parkâs âCrawlingâ, and the waves of recognition as we get the joke feel like a communal hug. New single âReveryâ gets itâs live debut, fitting in seamlessly to a rare set where every single song is a banger.Â
Alkaline Trio
Confetti dropped during âHypa Hypaâ drifts into the Monster Stage tent like ashes as the darker corner of Slam Dunk is illuminated by Alkaline Trio. âTime To Wasteâ sets the tone with greater emphasis on harmony and realism for a very straightforward set with a focus on the music, the same energy they set out on their last album. Far more punk than theyâve been in a long time, âArmageddonâ is played with pauses to make the song about our response as vocalist Matt Skiba lets out rough screams on each chorus before âBad Timeâ screeches into life, a welcome, chunky addition to their classics. Take away the shiny production, as Alkaline Trio have today, and theyâve still got a punk ethic that hits hard. âStupid Kidâ blends into a ringing, optimistic take on âCalling All Skeletonsâ before the elder statesmen of the day slow âSadieâ for maximum goth drama. As ever, Alkaline Trio are a black coffee, refreshing and bitter to finish a rich day of music on the second stage.Â
Hot Milk
âThis song is a social commentary about the state of England: itâs called âGone to Shitâ,â screams Hannah Mee, tougher than she seemed on Hot Milkâs last trip to the South. Sure, the majority of the crowd today are headed to the biggest stages but those who are crammed in for âHorror Showâ are loving the intimate set addressed to them, Hot Milkâs intensity razor sharp. As the lights glow purple, sheâs clearly entered her goth era, all steely focus for âI Just Wanna Know What Happens When Iâm Deadâ. âZone Outâ gives an opportunity to shows off her pipes for a closeout dark rave that starts a jump for those who feel the emotion that is Hot Milk.
A Day To Remember
The boys from Florida have one mission; to keep the party going for as long as possible. Of course, some festival=goers have called it a day by now, but itâs worth braving the inevitable transport chaos to see A Day To Remember doing what they do best. âBad Bloodâ streams into a slapping, assertive âParanoiaâ, and their take on âRescue Meâ shows they are capable of brining a prettiness to their metalcore / pop punk mashup, their synths lost in smokes and hoards of bouncing inflatables. In some ways, this feels a little understated compared to Electric Callboy, but A Day To Remember are providing what we need right now: an afterparty before the afterparty, a boost of closeout energy. âHave Faith In Meâ, dedicated to the ladies in the crowd, is uplifting and joyous.
The sense of simple fun that A Day To Remember bring to their show is what makes them such a good final act. We completely embrace their cover of Kelly Clarksonâs âSince U Been Goneâ as Cookie Monster crowdsurfs to the front, before âAll My Friendsâ pushes out waves of euphoria across the darkened field. âYou Be Tails, Iâll Be Sonicâ feels like a metaphor for the whole day: casually presented but the finest quality, occasionally whimsical and always tempting you to slam. Frontman Jeremy McKinnon dares us to âcrowd surf on top of a crowd surferâ during the pop punk life goal that is âLeBronâ, and that blend of appealing immaturity mashed into the pyro emotional freedom of âResentmentâ is what drives A Day To Remember are still a top-tier headliner.Â