It’s July, this year’s festival season is fully underway now, and we find ourselves back in scenic Cheltenham for the ever-wonderful 2000 Trees Festival. One of the alt world’s most beloved summer festivals, this year’s bill is crammed full of up and coming talent arena-filling giants, all gathering at Upcote Farm to dazzle and delight its passionate attendees. Put on those sunnies and grab a bev from the bar, we’ve got some bands to see…
Words: Dave Stewart. Photos: Paul Lyme and Penny Bennett
Mouth Culture
âMorning campers,â bellows Mouth Culture vocalist Jack Voss as they take to The Axiomâs stage. The greeting is delicate, something the headache-tainted and coffee clasping attendees are grateful for, but the set that follows it is far from it. They put on a very high-energy show and it shakes the hangover from a big portion of the crowd, summoning collective jumping, moshing and lyric-screaming almost right from the get-go. Before they started playing the sky was a grey blanket of clouds, but now that set-closer âCherry Red Rageâ has arrived to summon the final dredges of chaos from the early risers, the sun has fully broken through and it feels like the second day of the festival is truly underway. A great way to kick off the Friday.
Cruelty
If Mouth Culture didnât wake you up, this definitely will. Crueltyâs take-no-prisoners approach to metal creates a real jolt of electricity, pulverising your eardrums at every opportunity. Theyâre ferocious and the tent fills up pretty quickly as a result, and even though their stage presence looks a little unconfident and unsure at times the music paints a very different picture. Rough around the edges at times, but intentially so, they summon elements of numerous sub-metal genres into one cohesive and terrifying package – death, black, core, thrash and everything between, all designed to intimidate and overwhelm. It does that very well, and it definitely made an impact on the midday crowd at The Cave.Â
Burner
If you donât know anything about Burner before you start watching their set, by the end youâll either be fascinated, terror-stricken or both. Donning that blood-curdling buzzsaw metal tone and forcing it outwards with unflinching barbarity, the bandâs performance is restless and intense, encouraging the eager pit-goers to go full pelt. Their musicâs lyrical content is as varied and unpredictable as the musical direction – with subject matter ranging from tornadoes killing racists to Jesus Christ, soundtracked by expansive, ambitious and completely monstrous metal. Easily the most sonically aggressive band of the weekend so far, and theyâve set the bar to top them incredibly high.
Tropic Gold
Itâs back over to The Axiom to catch a band with an enormous amount of buzz surrounding them. Tropic Gold have a very big crowd awaiting their arrival, and they enthusiastically start the party from the second the set begins. Theyâre incredibly polished and confident; they donât sound or act like a new band whatsoever, and they arenât really that new, but for a lot of people in this tent catching them for the first time this is one hell of a display. They donât even let the resurgence of yesterdayâs tech issues halt their set for too long. The guitar was noticeably quiet, maybe even completely missing at times, but they keep the ball rolling and use as much of their allotted time as is humanly possible. This was their first time at 2000 Trees and it definitely wonât be their last.
Unpeople
Unpeople debuted at last yearâs 2000 Trees Festival, and theyâve returned to the 2024 bill after having an incredible first year as a band. From releasing their debut EP to supporting the one and only Metallica, theyâve done more than simply make a mark, and the incredible turnout to The Cave is a heartwarming sight. Opening with the colossal âWasteâ is a masterstroke, getting the entire crowd moving and singing from the very start, and everything that follows is simply perfect. Everything that follows is flawless; precise vocal harmonies, note-perfect delivery and suave stage presence, all hypnotising the masses that are spilling out of both sides of the tent. From a thrill-ride cover of the Nirvana classic âTerritorial Pissingsâ to the rest of the âPressureâ EP and a set closing new song which goes down an absolute storm, this cements that the band are going to become real favourites in the UK scene. If this is how well they’re doing after one year, where will they be in another?
Sweet Pill
The crowd gathered in The Axiom for Sweet Pill is a calm but incredibly attentive one. The Philadelphia quintet have never played this festival before, but from the looks of things this definitely wonât be the last. Their jangly, bright and commanding music is utterly irresistible, and it transmits an almost hypnotic aura through the tent. Thereâs very little chatter among the onlookers; you can hear a pin drop during the quieter sections of the music, with every single note they play tightly held on to by every set of ears in attendance. The music feels like something between Paramore and TouchĂ© AmorĂ© but itâs definitely delivered more like the latter, with vocalist Zayna Youssef bounding across the stage with seemingly limitless energy. Before the closing moments get underway, the band takes the opportunity to grab a picture with the crowd before they empty out to continue with their day, and as a thank you they rip through two more explosive belters, followed by overwhelming cheers and applause. The band are over the moon, so are the crowd, and we all leave the tent feeling a little lighter. That was special.
Nova Twins
The now-iconic British duo have been turning heads for years, and their main stage set at this yearâs festival has an air of triumph about it. The size of the crowd gathered to witness it confirms that, too, and as soon as they take the stage the bodies start flying over the barrier and the crowd seems to pulsate, beating along to their rib-shaking grooves. Theyâve brought levels of swagger and attitude unrivalled by the rest of todayâs bill, and they stomp across the stage like they own it. When theyâre hurling out weighty performances of crowd favourites like âCleopatraâ, âTaxiâ and âPuzzlesâ, even the festival organisers would be willing to declare the stage as theirs. Thereâs some guitar issues that plague Amy Loveâs performance early on but she breezes past it like it never happened, and by the time the riot-starting âChoose Your Fighterâ makes its appearance it doesnât even matter. The show they treated us to is one deserving of a higher billing. Maybe the next time they grace these grounds, thatâs exactly what will happen.
Bears In Trees
âWeâre going to make you think about death a little more. This song is about death.â If you heard those words upon walking into The Axiom, perhaps youâd have thought youâd accidentally stumbled into a death metal bandâs set by accident. As soon as the music starts, though, it becomes very clear that youâve correctly attended a Bears In Trees show. The music feels like itâd fit in the credits of The Inbetweeners and the vibe is incredibly British as a result. Feel-good, upbeat, tongue-in-cheek, ever so slightly cheesey indie-meets-emo flavoured tunes full of keytar solos, drum riser leaps, dance breaks and the occasional sprinkle of banter. And death. A reasonable amount of death. Thematic doom and gloom aside, thereâs something about this band that forces you to smile when they play, and itâs completely unavoidable. Theyâre clearly having the best time, and it rubs off onto their crowd without even a millisecond of hesitation. If you came here for a good time, you found one.
Blood Command
If youâve never seen a Blood Command show before, itâs something that truly needs to be experienced. Imagine a slavic underground rave, full of vodka swilling, cigarette smoking, tracksuit wearing techno enthusiasts; thatâs exactly what their stage show looks like, but you have to swap out the pounding electronics with eardrum-destroying Norwegian death-pop. The set is a non-stop thriller, hurtling out of the gate with âCult Drugsâ, âThe Plague On Both Your Housesâ and the crowd-pleasing âSaturday Cityâ instantly opening multiple pits, much to the bands delight. Vocalist Nikki Brumen is a ball of energy and thereâs nothing that can slow her down, wrapping herself around the stageâs steel beams one moment and swigging rum and slut-dropping the next. The rest of the set is just as magical as the start, with big hitters like âQuitters Donât Smokeâ, âItâs Not Us Itâs Themâ and the monolithic set-closer âCult Of The New Beatâ serving up a sonic storm. They played this very stage two years ago and they were a festival highlight. This year theyâve completely packed the tent out and theyâve raised their own bar. A feral, unrelenting fun-fest with zero restraint. Bliss.
Palm Reader
This is it. The end of an era. Thirteen years of glorious boundary pushing music, written with care, delivered with sheer vigour, now reaching its finale with love. Pure, unfiltered, formidable love. Palm Reader have been nothing short of an institution in the British heavy music scene, passionately adored by the initiated and criminally underrated for most of their career. From 2012âs debut self-titled EP to 2020âs ambitious masterpiece âSleeplessâ, the bandâs sound has undergone some changes but has always retained its intensity, both sonically and lyrically. All this has led to now, a packed out Cave, ready to witness the bandâs power live in the flesh and hover in their magic. One last time.
As the band skulks out onto the stage, now with seven members among their ranks, they explode straight into âInternal Winterâ and the pits have already opened wide before frontman Josh McKeown can utter the words âWe lost the majestyâ. Old classic âI Watch The Fire Chase My Tongueâ keeps the chaos intact, those snare drum hits connecting like shotgun blasts; something that can only be mended by the emotional power of âWillowâ. Three songs in and theyâve already shown off how far their musical tapestry stretches, and we appreciate it now more than ever.
The mid-section of the set is where people start getting teary. âHold/Releaseâ is already a wrecking ball of emotion but, when accompanied by the realisation that this is the last time weâll hear it, itâs even more devastating than usual. The waterworks begin to flow throughout the tent, and not even the heaviness of âStay Downâ or the enthralling âFalse Thirstâ can stop it. In a surprise move, though, the band whip one of their earliest songs out of retirement, along with founding member Sam Rondeau-Smith who joins them to tear through âSeeing And Believing Are Two Different Thingsâ in an event which McKeown labels as âour first song for the last time.â The weight of whatâs coming continues to get heavier, and before we know it that moment is upon us far sooner than weâd have liked.
The flawless set closes with the hauntingly stunning âA Bird And Its Feathersâ, performed with all eight musicians in the collective, taking around three times longer to reach its cataclysmic conclusion. The reason for that is the palpable grief, mainly that of the members themselves who all find themselves teetering on the edge of the end of their final live performance. McKeown struggles to compose himself, fighting back tears as he speaks on the importance of connection and the collective euphoria that we all share when we gather like this. We all hang off every word, not just because we donât want the set to end, but because everything he says is true. The energy in the tent shifts, the end in very clear sight, and everyone comes together in unison to send off the octet in the strongest way possible.
There isnât a dry eye in the crowd. The band all clink their tinnies, embrace one another, whisper words of gratitude into each others ears and wipe their tears onto their sleeves in anticipation of the final hurrah. When the band finally reach the dramatic conclusion of their set, 15 minutes over their allotted set time (which is still too soon), it’s overwhelming. The pits become their most rabid, the head banging its most animated, and the teary-eyed audience members grow in numbers. It’s a hauntingly beautiful display – it’s the final song in the set for a reason – and the audience explodes with applause as the band take a majestic bow. Thereâs a warmth present that feels different to the applause given to other bands on this weekends bill; everyone in attendance is genuinely moved, and leaving the tent is somewhat harder than it is after other artists finish their set. The same is true for McKeown too, who remains on stage watching the crowd disperse for the final time with a shaky smile on his face and gratitude in his heart. âThe next time someone mentions the name Palm Reader, make sure itâs followed with love,â he implores. After a farewell like this, how could we not?
Hot Milk
After saying a very emotional farewell to Palm Reader, Hot Milk initially feel a little more like Lukewarm Milk, but it doesnât take very long for them to turn that frown upside down. The turnout rivals Hot Mulliganâs yesterday; hordes of people tightly packed on both sides of The Axiom, all trying to get in for a piece of one of Manchesterâs finest. They donât need to ask for any chaos or direct the crowd at all, everything just sort of happens by itself without instruction. The crowd understands their job and they get the party started fast. âIf I see anybodyâs phone Iâll come down there and kick your head in myselfâ declares Hannah Mee, and we donât need telling twice. Funny how a vibe completely shifts and lifts when no one is starting a screen, isnât it?
Everything that follows is a limb flailing, crowd surfing, shoulder hoisting, mosh pitting singalong, with participants stretching from the barrier all the way to the far reaches of folks unable to get under the tent. No wonder when the setlist shows off just how many bangers they have now, spanning their entire career to date. âHORROR SHOWâ, âI JUST WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN IâM DEADâ, âBREATHING UNDERWATERâ; the intensity barely drops for a moment and the crowd laps up every single morsel. They close on the enormous âGlass Spidersâ, causing a huge wave of that chaos to erupt, and both band and crowd are exhausted yet absolutely ecstatic. British pop punk is in good hands right now, and if Hot Milk continue at this pace theyâll be the ones flying its flag.Â
Empire State Bastard
Considering that The Cave is about to witness a band of bonafide musical legends unleash hell, itâs surprisingly sparsely attended ahead of Empire State Bastardâs headline set. Comprised of Biffy Clyroâs Simon Neil, Slayerâs Dave Lombardo, Oceansizeâs Mike Vennart and dynamic bassist Naomi Macleod, itâs a wonder that more folks arenât piling in to pay homage to some of the alt worldâs greats, merging their talents together to create some of the most unsettling tones – none of which resemble any of their other projects. Thankfully the space in the tent fills up quickly once the onslaught of noise begins, the abrasive and often overwhelming textures like an evil siren song.Â
The opening one-two punch of the sludgy âStutterâ and the frenzied âHarvestâ is devastating, strobe flashes catching hundreds of eyeballs staring in bewilderment at the jagged shrieks thrusting at them, like deer in headlights completely locked in place. Neilâs vocal is a whole world away from what he usually does in the rock world, and it sounds more powerful now than it ever has. He has some real demons inside him and weâre more than happy to watch him exorcise them. Everything that follows is utterly feral and sonically corrosive, scrambling and melting the brains of everyone in close proximity. The stoner metal-esque âBlusherâ, the ominous and doomy âSons And Daughtersâ, the moody and shapeshifting âMoi?â – the show is beautifully paced, and the crowd ebbs and flows its energy right with the band.
The back end of the set is where things get really special. Vennart dedicates a song to Palm Reader, the band that preceded them on this very stage, and itâs a really heartwarming moment. The song in question is the furious âPalms Of Handsâ that sees Lombardo flex his chops in the most magnificent way; everyone brings their own flavour to proceedings but Lombardo is a true force of nature, his power and precision completely unstoppable. This particular number reminds everyone in attendance that we arenât just watching four people making lots of disturbing noise – itâs four formidable presences, all masters of their craft. Following with lethal renditions of âTired, Naw?â And âSold!â entices the last shreds of energy from the attendees, ending things on the epic âThe Loomingâ to sway the night away (with the occasional banshee shriek and blast beat, of course). Itâs hard to see this band perform and leave with feelings other than fear, bewilderment and adoration. Their output isnât meant to be comfortable, and this definitely wasnât. In a good way, though. The most pleasantly uncomfortable way to end day two.