Pop goes to the library: Inside Manchester Pop Fest’s bookish, bubbly showcase
The community-run festival is a unique celebration of underground pop.
When people hear the term ‘pop’, they tend to think of ‘popular’. After all, that’s what it’s short for. In terms of ‘pop music’, people tend to think of the commercial, the radio-friendly and the industry-mandated.
But, for certain music enthusiasts, there’s also a whole other realm to the term. There’s a ‘pop’ that refers to the twee, the indie, the jangly, the independent. The sort of earnest, under-produced and often obscure music that rests in quiet until it is unearthed by a tenacious vinyl-crate-sifter… unassumingly brilliant groups like The Field Mice, or Another Sunny Day, or Razorcuts. For these people, ‘pop’ alludes to DIY music; to indie pop, dream pop, jangle pop.
Manchester Pop Fest isn’t bothered with commerce. It’s firmly enamoured with the latter interpretation of ‘pop’. The event is a community-run, grassroots, independent labour of love that showcases a range of artists — some plucked out of distant obscurity, others currently on the rise in their respective alternative scenes. What do all the artists have in common? They’re all their own independently eccentric rumination on the melodic heart of ‘pop’ (whatever that may truly be).
Taking place in Levenshulme Library, Manchester Pop Fest is an eclectic and unique festival for those who revel in the obscure, obsess over vinyl sleeve notes, manically swap ‘zines and have had their lives soundtracked by John Peel Sessions.
I had the pleasure of seeing little-known industry veterans, to newbie up-and-comers… and an impactful film screening dedicated to sifting through the rich, riotous history of Scotland’s (not quite) forgotten femme-poppers.
I arrive in the library, and am surprised by the atmosphere. This isn’t an ordinary music ‘festival’. There’s no moshing, nor excessive day-drinking, nor any sign of lad culture. Just quiet, mild-mannered ‘musos’ getting together to watch some groups. There’s a lovely innocence at the festival’s core, even if the library’s clinical lighting does make it feel a little more like an exam hall than a gig venue. Regardless, let’s talk about the music.
Photo: Andrew Beswick
The amps are cranked up for Tulpa — well, as loud as they reasonably can be in a community library — as the first act of the festival gets underway. There’s something about the four-piece that reminds me of The Orielles. A noise-rock Orielles. Their front-woman-bassist stands calm and collected, whilst her six-string wingers stumble over the carpet fibres, letting out the odd scream of delight (it is delight, right?) as their giddy wall of sound ensues.
Loud, rippling, yet melodic to the core, Tulpa perfectly open up Manchester Pop Fest. The last song’s hook — a repetitive run-around appeal, “whose side are you on?” — stays on the mind for long after Tulpa’s set is concluded. Melodically etched behind the skull.
Photo: Andrew Beswick
The Early Mornings follow on in a similar vein to Tulpa, playing unassuming indie pop with a noisy edge; however, this time, the basslines cut sharply through the mix in a Kim Deal fashion. Their lead vocalist, clad in hot-pink clogs, leads the angular arrangements with deadpan swipes, more a flurry of complaints than lead melody lines. It’s a unique, kitschy sound that The Early Mornings have in the works — a candid, barbed, yet nervous, tussle… like a librarian trying their hand at a fist-fight. I look forward to hearing where the eccentric trio go next.
Rising indie-pop starlet Lande Hekt takes to the stage just as the afternoon light is starting to dim into evening. I’ve been following the ex-Muncie Girls vocalist since she supported Alvvays in Manchester back in October 2022. I was smitten with the sound back then, and I still am now.
Although appearing a little uncomfortable to be playing without her backing band, Hekt’s songs — earnest, gut-churning, life-affirming — hold up on their own. She’s one of those rare songwriters who can find the same drama in her cat tiptoeing down the stairs as she would in a life-shattering depression.
Latest single Pottery Class finds its natural home in Levenshulme (“It seems fitting to play this song here, as it’s set in a community centre”, Hekt coyly jokes), even if it does miss its central Peter Hook-lite bassline. Fortunately, the Devon-based artist makes up for the lack of wider instrumentation through her dynamic lyricism, a voice every bit as curiously wistful as Ivy’s Dominique Durand, and a restrained, yet deft, mastery over the guitar. Her songs may be twee, simple and assured, but the odd flick of finesse in between the chord progressions show an axe-wielder who chooses serving the song over serving the ego. Rare for guitarists, that.
I chat to Lande after her show. We talk about her time touring with Alvvays, the vaguely impossible task of covering The Wedding Present, and my younger sister’s journey as a singer/songwriter (whom is also a fanatic of the heartfelt bedroom pop in question). Lande not only listens intently to my ramblings, but also asks with genuine interest about my sister’s current experience as a first-year student. Lande Hekt is a good egg.
Photo: Andrew Beswick
One of Saturday’s highlights comes in the form of All Girls Arson Club, a band whose name — catchy as it is — will deceive anyone expecting a pyromaniac punk group. The youthful duo even point this out, in-between shy fits of laughter, as they scamper into the library’s corner: “We are All Girls Arson Club. Though we’re not arsonists… nor are we girls.”
Their set is made up of sugary ditties detailing trips to Alexandra Park, Friday evenings spent sifting through supermarket aisles, and daydream sky-scanning.
With crackly chord progressions and a laid-back, ambling vocal style reminiscent of The Mouldy Peaches, All Girls Arson Club delight in their own peculiar way. Their stripped-back, DIY sound — just a guitar and a drum kit — takes indie pop back to the very basics. Could they do with a bass player? I’m undecided. Their stubborn, slacker simplicity may just be their strength. I’m a fan.
Photo: Andrew Beswick
Up next, another local outfit. Armed with a deal with Slumberland Records, a debut LP just released, and a gig diary unequivocally chock-a-block, it’s safe to say that Manchester four-piece Autocamper have been making an impression of late. And it’s not just down to the haircuts.
Harnessing the flowery sounds of lesser-known Sarah Records jangle acts, whilst also brimming with a subtle slice of the keyboard-swagger that made ‘Madchester’ groups like The Charlatans and The Inspiral Carpets so revered in Manchester and beyond, Autocamper nod to the past whilst also carving out a new sound all for themselves. At last, a local band that take advantage of the melodic properties of the synthesiser, rather than drowning the instrument out in walls of guitar-fuzz sewage. Energetic, propulsive, strangely nostalgic, and with melodica solos to boot, the attention is warranted.
However, strangely enough, the most impactful part of Pop Fest comes in the form of a screening of 2024 documentary Since Yesterday: The Untold Story of Scotland’s Girl Bands. Not only does a film screening admittedly feel more accommodated for by a community library than a rock group does, but the film’s specific themes and questions seem to resonate strongly with the community of fanaticism and intrigue that the event has brought together.
The documentary, narrated by director Carla Easton, looks through some of Scotland’s most trailblazing female music acts, from The McKinleys in the sixties (Edinburgh’s answer to The Ronettes or The Supremes), all the way to The Hedrons in the 2010s (a riotous rock ’n’ roll group deserving to challenge The Libertines as one of the last of the greats).
Easton’s wide-eyed narration, accompanied by archive footage, exclusive interviews and a visual narrative of a young girl occupying her bedroom walls with more and more girl group memorabilia, details the hazardous careers of all the influential, yet sadly obscure, Scottish girl groups to come in between. What hounds each and every group through the various sounds of sixties bubblegum pop, seventies punk rock, eighties synth pop and nineties riot grrl, is industry misogyny, lack of financial aid, media mockery and execs that are all too likely to drop a group from the label due to the “risk” of pregnancy.
Easton’s film is an eye-opening piece, equally tragic as it is hopeful, shining a light on charismatic creatives who’ve had theirs dimmed by a sustained patriarchy. I wholeheartedly recommend anyone reading this to seek out the film for themselves (it’s now playing on BBC iPlayer, so there’s really no excuse). After all, Strawberry Switchblade deserves to be in anyone’s record collection or Spotify playlist.
Why does Since Yesterday feel particularly fit for Manchester Pop Fest? Because the film and the festival share the same desire to dig up influences of the past. To celebrate difference. To side-step the mainstream. To make something out of nothing.
And, I suppose, it’s that ethos that I was trying to get at in my introduction about the meaning of ‘pop’. For Manchester Pop Fest, for Carla Easton, for All Girls Arson Club, for the weekend’s audiences, it’s not about popularity. It’s about being excited — childishly, earnestly, bookishly — by the newly unearthed, and the newly emerging alike. Treating pop groups like paperbacks on a shelf — something to grasp out of the archives, dust off, and adore.
Maybe the library is a good setting, after all.