The Great Escape started, eight years ago, as a pretty brazen attempt to emulate Austin, Texas's legendary new music festival South By Southwest. The crowds queuing hopefully outside already packed-out performances by Australian slacker singer-songwriter Courtney Barnett might dolefully suggest that, in one respect at least, they've succeeded in emulating South By Southwest perfectly: as in Austin, actually getting in to see the hottest bands requires vast amounts of forward planning, tactical skill and patience. In the case of Future Islands – clearly booked long before their appearance on Late Night With David Letterman went viral, and thus performing at a Brighton venue far smaller than the one they're scheduled to play in a few weeks' time – the only realistic way of gaining access to this show would involve digging a tunnel.
Even once you're in, The Great Escape can prove a fantastic way to not see the hottest bands of the moment. Late on Friday night, the Amazing Snakeheads are onstage at The Hope. They sound great, but the venue is so packed that finding a vantage point from which to check if frontman Dale Barclay is doing his usual impersonation of a man unsure whether he wants to play music or take hostages is almost impossible. After they finish, the disconcerted expressions worn by those that could actually see what was going on strongly suggest that he was.
The Great Escape isn't the most diverse festival in history – you struggle to find much urban music beyond New York hip-hop trio Ratking, and Kelis, plying her David Sitek-produced album, Food, at The Dome – but you certainly get the full gamut of alt-rock. At one extreme, there are glossily professional bands with their eyes fairly obviously fixed on the prize: US quartet Public Access TV don't exactly radiate personality, but their songs are attractive enough, even if they are so indebted to what would once have been called new-wave music that one track basically re-writes Nick Lowe's I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass. At the other, there is Ezra Furman, whose band, the Boyfriends, initially take the stage without him, as he's contrived to be in the lavatory at the exact point they're supposed to come on. When he does turn up, he's a captivating stage presence, equally indebted to Jonathan Richman, Frankie Avalon and Pee Wee Herman.
Elsewhere, New Desert Blues pack out a venue on Friday lunchtime – they sound not unlike someone simultaneously playing a Neil Young album and something by Sigur Ros, and are extremely warmly recieved – while the Hold Steady's performance confirms that they're still a juggernaut live. But it feels like the most excitement and anticipation at the festival is caused by the appearance of Fat White Family. Watching them on Friday night, you can see why. By their standards it's a relatively restrained performance, but it's still utterly gripping: Lias Saoudi is a fantastic frontman, charismatic and unhinged in equal measure, while the diseased rockabilly lurch of I Am Mark E Smith sounds thrillingly like a band just clinging on to a song by their fingernails, perpetually on the verge of collapsing into disarray.
