Mr Jack's Birthday

The Jack Daniel's brand has been synonymous with rock and roll since well before Keith Richards learned to walk. Having first opened its doors as a distillery in the city of Lynchburg, Tennessee nearly 150 years ago, its status as the most popular variation of its kind remains intact to this day. The good folks behind the brand also know how to throw a good party and this year's birthday celebrations are no different. Although the exact birth date and origin of Jack Daniel is unknown, it's been a customary trait to celebrate his birthday in September, with said revelries usually spilling over into the following month. While 2011's shindig took place in the grounds of the distillery, this year's event saw it hosted in a cave. In Castleton, Derbyshire. Entitled "The Devil's Arse". Situated off the A57 in the Peak District between Sheffield and Glossop, it makes for an unlikely, yet thoroughly picturesque setting.

With this year's festivities taking place over here, it's little wonder Jack Daniel's have put together a Brit-centric line-up. While not entirely unexpected, perhaps the biggest criticism that can be levelled at the organisers would be a distinct lack of electronic acts on the bill. Bearing in mind that the scene and its countless sub-genres have been responsible for some of the most original, forward-thinking and utterly beguiling music released on these shores in recent years, the decision to focus exclusively on guitar bands seems bewildering at best.

First up are Tribes, and depending where you already sit with these it's hard to envisage them winning over any new fans this evening. Sure, they look the part, talk the talk and walk the walk, but when all's said and done, their Razorlight-does-Feeder schtick is merely a case of been there, seen that, and seen it done a helluva lot better. Competent musicians that they may be, their indierock by numbers becomes tiresome after three songs, and DiS quickly decamps itself in the bar for another free sample of JD and coke.

Thankfully, Mystery Jets arrival brings with it a dose of parity. While some of us - me included - still lament their decision not to play any of the Making Dens (aka "Henry's songs") these days, they've a salvo of twisted pop nuggets in their armoury. Even a few shouts of "Zoo time! Zoo time!" from the front rows don't alter their stance or the setlist, and so it's left to the likes of 'Serotonin' and 'Two Doors Down' to remind all present that the UK's guitar-based music scene is in good health and has been for some time. The melancholic beauty of 'Flakes' coupled with an elegant run through 'Greatest Hits' rounding things off, Mystery Jets may have been on the precipice of bigger things for a number of years now, yet on this form, only a fool would be brave (or stupid) enough to write them off.

So, onto tonight's headliners. Say what you will about The Vaccines - and plenty have, some of it unnecessarily scathing - but when it comes putting on a no frills rock and roll show there's no one better on these shores at this moment in time. Having first seen the band nearly two years ago in a tiny venue not that far from here, watching them grow into the arena playing, Radio One listener slaying, bonafide number one album sellers they've become has been a defining experience, particularly for the doom mongers insistent this kind of music has no relevance in the present.

That The Vaccines borrow from the past should bear no consequence. Not when you have two albums worth of songs many bands would cut off their collective right arms for. Okay, so the lyrics to 'Post Break-Up Sex' might come across as a little clumsy; crass even; when scribbled down and analysed with a fine tooth comb after, but when all's said and done, anyone that obsessed with such graphic scrutiny is completely missing the point. Reference points arrive thick and fast. 'Wreckin' Bar' (The Ramones), 'I Always Knew' (Elton John's 'Crocodile Rock'), 'If You Wanna' (The Jesus & Mary Chain) and 'All In White' (The Clash) all flick through rock's back pages without bothering the plagiarism police at any point. Watching frontman Justin Young stamp his authority all over these songs and the precariously constructed stage at the back of the cave is a sight to behold. But then, just what did you expect..?

Afterwards we're transported to Sheffield's Leadmill where up and coming Londoners Palma Violets play one of the most energetic shows we've witnessed in a very long time. Again, it's easy to be cynical about a band who've amassed a fair amount of column inches without actually releasing a record and those suspicions are partly realised when DiS learns of at least one famous family connection within the band. BUT. But, their existence is fully justified by the infectious enthusiasm seeping through their live performance if nothing else. For the half hour or so they're on stage, they deliver a masterclass in stage presence, on how to command an audience; and let's not forget the majority of those present this evening will have heard very few if any of the songs before tonight. While the time to really pass judgment on whether they're anything more than a fashionable flash in the pan will come when these songs do make it onto recorded format, there's enough here to suggest the early hype shouldn't be used as an excuse to dismiss them just yet.