Never underestimate the power of chaos theory. Okay, so a butterfly never fluttered it’s wings – in this weather, are you kidding?! No, the universe turned when, minutes after Rockaway Beach 2025 opened, a random bloke called Doug bought Backseat Mafia a couple of beers. It’s the…barfly effect. On such random acts of kindness, festivals are built. This winter warmer brings the love to a chilly Butlins every January.
So, New Year fireworks or a damp squib? Just how was Rockaway Beach 2025?
Friday
After ten glorious years, Rockaway has sussed the admin, and the pass collection process is seamlessly smooth. This Butlin’s bash can feel like a New Year visit to an eccentric aunt and uncle’s house. You kind of know you’ll end up enjoying the stay, and there’ll be moments of fun and excitement, but sometimes you’ll still be left wondering if there’s something more exciting going on elsewhere.
Carrying this healthy cynicism, I joined the queue for the Centre Stage venue. The usual demographic is in place – let’s lazily call them 6 Music mums and dads – and to continue that generalisation, they, of course, head straight for the bars. This is where Doug changes everything with his beer gesture. I stop the stereotyping. Maybe Rockaway isn’t full of alpha males and their “buddies” after all. I resolve to reconnect with Rockaway.
The None have the honour of kicking off the festival. Featuring former Bloc Party bass bloke Gordon Moakes and simmering, smouldering vocalist Kaila Whyte and her two mics, the touchpaper is lit – the room isn’t, though, as Kaila asks for the lights to be turned out! Fresh from the release of their recent Eazy Peazy E.P Man/Woman/Chainsaw, they bring a fine orchestral cacophony to Bognor with violinist Clio Starwood’s stand-out exuberance – but the whole band seem to relish playing the packed venue.
Holiday Ghosts appear to be a late substitution for the absent Liz Lawrence and travel that well-trodden jangling indie pop sound. Even touching on the Medway sound. An icy blast blows outside but still they ask, “hope you’ve got your trunks – to go on the water slide?”. Brrrrrr. It’s a promising start to the weekend.
There’s something missing here, though. I sense a yearning. A lost love. Reds is usually the matinee venue for Rockaway not the Centre Stage. Sadly, the legendary sticky floors, intimate raised booths and awkwardly accessed stage is history now as a band venue – shame. In its place is the new shiny Studio 36 – smelling of cow pats or new carpet adhesive – depending on your nasal expertise. This new location rivals the Centre Stage as a headliner space. So as Pete Wylie brings the Eighties back at the other place Hamish Hawk is the new blood at Studio 36.
After being highly recommended by my mate Dawn some dozen times last year I finally make my acquaintance with the charismatic Scotsman with the engaging stare. He’s an outstanding lyrical talent. It’s his second visit to Rockaway and Hamish recalls with undisguised regret how he donned a fan’s hat on his last visit to Bognor and the photograph from the time adorned his wiki entry. Hamish wowed throughout an incredible set. Hints of Morrissey, Neil Hannon and even Jarvis evoked a familiar air sweetly contrasting with the carpet stench.
Hamish would’ve been a worthy headliner but Spiritualised are blessed with the job of closing the first night at the new venue. The only time I ever saw Jason Pierce and co was in a snow bound venue in Switzerland some quarter of a century ago – in an era of Britpop froth I hated the noisy shoegaze nonsense and left early. This time, Spiritualised are older wiser and melodic and chilled – less shoegaze these days, more schmooze and haze but much of that was down to the beautiful choir backing Pierce throughout. They were never going to put the rock in Rockaway but the vibe recalls the laidback charm of Mercury Rev and is surprisingly sweet like Pink Floyd on marshmallows. Spiritualised also played the first ever Rockaway so their presence at the ten year anniversary is especially appropriate.
More earthly pleasures are conjured by the magic of Aidan Moffatt and Malcolm Middleton with Arab Strap back at the Centre Stage. Aidan’s envious that the audience have been drinking all evening – “this is my first drink of the night you lucky bastards” – Aidan mate, you need to meet my beer guardian angel Doug, wherever he is! The midnight mood darkens and Aidan announces “this is a song about shagging” followed by another song where he dryly states again, “this is a song about shagging” before finally introducing another song as “this is an old song about not shagging”. The stage is a confessional, the audience is rapt. Arab Strap could be a Caledonian version of The National as Friday night turns into Saturday morning and the arcade lights are dimmed and the booze queues thin.
Saturday
The hippos are hungry again, the slots are penniless and the rain is falling as Bognor’s weekend village of music fans awaken on Saturday. Rockaway regulars love the festival but even the most loyal would admit the event hasn’t quite set the spine tingling…yet.
Bang! Harder than those girders they make Irn-Bru out of and a better hangover cure too Soapbox create quite a lather as they strut on stage. Led by skinhead Tom Rowan there’s both menace and mischief in his eyes – and it’s not even lunchtime! With an “Oi!” here a penetrating chunky bass line there and a punked-up social commentary Soapbox didn’t so much as bring the love to Rockaway but planted a massive Glesga kiss on Butlins leaving everyone reeling. Highlights included Private Public Transport, Disgrace and The Fear. A hyperactive Rowan climbs into the crowd several times – in spite of complaining his fitness is seasonally affected by Christmas! Aside from Rowan’s obvious charisma, there’s a Crass vibe to the music and by the end of the finale Fascist Bob the audience needed a bit of a lie-down…but Rowan though looked like he could do it all over again. Hardcore.
Two women from the Isle of Wight with a knack for an indie rock ditty are up next on Centre Stage – no not that Isle of Wight band – this is Lily Hutchings and Lottie Massey of The Pill. There’s a harder, meatier live sound than anticipated. Imagine a sober Lambrini Girls backed by The Pixies, especially on Laying In Bed. They’re not without some wit and wisdom too but Lily’s cheery chat sometimes falls flat. Lily has some exquisite vocal squeaks and shrieks and The Pill have a strong, fun set including forthcoming new single Money Mullet. The Pill did ask but incredibly there are no mullets at Butlins!
Then just when I thought I was all grown up and a man of the world along come CLT DRP. No I genuinely didn’t know. Moving on. The Brighton electro punk trio led by the jerky, confident Annie pacing about continued the run of alternative perfection on the Centre Stage.
Rockaway always has lots of extracurricular activities going on but those schedules tend to clash with the music. Quizzes, films and artist Q&A sessions happen elsewhere at Butlins. Special mention to the stall run by Tonic Music – the initiative set up to promote music participation as a key to good mental health. Check out their Never Mind The Stigma campaign and the important, life-saving work they do.
Back at the Centre Stage there’s an Irishman wearing a cap and creepy contact lenses. Meryl Streek got the memo and brings Bognor love as he arrives with his own handheld strobe light and a bunch of red roses strapped to his mic stand. Driven by a passion to fight injustice Meryl Streek is accompanied by news broadcasts of stories of homelessness and poverty and his dark, direct attack is intriguingly punky. Streek is refreshingly and often brutally honest. An unlikely heir to the late great Sinead. He also takes his light and roses and mic into the fray – a phenomenal talent.
Ninja Tune electronica outfit Ebbb certainly clear that punky air. Lev Ceylan may be the engineer of the band but it’s Will Rowland who completes the sound with soaring, mesmerising songs, creating a tribal sonic assault. The mood gets poppier still with the arrival of Arxx. Having seen the Brighton queer pop geniuses Hannah Pidduck and Clara Townsend so many time over the years as they’ve supported many great bands it’s a pleasure to catch them playing the big Butlin’s bash. As always, Hannah owns the stage whilst Clara drums nearby along with her litter of plastic dogs which later get launched into the crowd. It’s fun and smiley but curiously, there’s something synthetic about the Arxx sound and what appears to be a backing track sadly gets increasingly irritating.
Lime Garden have been eagerly awaited and there’s a healthy turnout for the Brighton band even though they clash with hungry punters dinnertime. There’s chat about wondering what it’s like being Kate Moss’s offspring (Nepotism (Baby)) and other banter. The brilliant rendition of Pop Star is a big highlight, and yes, Chloe Howard, “life is fleeting”, and yes, she is a “pop star”.
The boomers are back from their fish and chips and ready for the punky reggae party with Ruts DC. Rockaway loves to dip back into rock history every year and there’s more than enough present who would’ve seen earlier incarnations of the band playing In A Rut, Staring At The Rude Boys and Babylon’s Burning. It’s a smart and classy performance.
Back to the cow shed then. Mim Grey has just finished her Americana tinged set. Next, it’s a surprising high profile slot for Georgia. This is less astonishing once Georgia announces how she’s honoured to be doing the support slot for her dad…founder of Leftfield – Neil Barnes. Standing up to drum and sing through her set Georgia’s enthusiasm is infectious. She has fun. The venue raves out…but the words of Lime Garden earlier still come to mind.
Georgia’s dad and his mates in Leftfield headline Studio 36 and those left with any stamina fill the venue. Others take time out around the corner in the arcade or hang out in the bars.
Meanwhile, is that the strains of Rockaway Beach coming from the Centre Stage arena?! New Yorkers Bodega cleverly open their set by paying homage to both Bognor and their home city with a brilliant cover of the Ramones classic. Bodega are very worthy headliners although interestingly their set feels similar to the one they performed the last time I saw them at a tiny Lock Tavern venue in May 2018. Well, if it ain’t broke! As ever Nikki Belfiglio has great stamina as the stand-up percussionist and visually the band resemble those Portland legends Dandy Warhols as they span the stage. A long, energetic and most engaging set of course includes the familiar Jack In Titanic and Shiny New Model. Rock-rock, rockaway beach – all hail Bodega!
Sunday
Icy rain washes through the Butlin’s complex as Sunday begins. Still nobody has nicked any of the frozen penguin statues guarding the Wave Hotel. Disappointing. Bit too sensible this Bognor lot. Moving through the indoor centre toward the main stage there’s little time to pause at the vinyl stalls and the merch purchases will have to wait.
Just when the early risers thought it was safe to wade back into the arena…here’s Jaws The Shark. This creative vehicle for London-based musician Olly Bailey is as majestic and fierce as a great white itself! Olly brings bass heavy blasts and grungy riffs and deserves the very full venue’s attention. The sonic assault of California is a glorious finale and all the better when Olly adapts the lyrics for the Rockaway rockers to “Bognor got the weather!”. The alt-rock continues with Bloodworm who cheekily announces, “We’re from Nottingham…there’s a lot here from Nottingham, apparently…watch your wallets!”. An unknown pleasure. Nobody is robbed and Bloodworm gift a goth-tinged post-punk performance packed with substance and atmosphere.
The weekend has still lacked the spinetingling moments of previous years and there’s been a distinct lack of exhibitionist or explosive stage behaviour. Many found their fix of fun with The Jonny Halifax Invocation. This bunch of aged free blues performers came on like they’d been booked by a cult leader for the final gathering on the eve of the apocalypse. They handed out shakers to the room. At least I think they gave out musical instruments because if it had been Kool-Aid I’d have been tempted to take a swig. There was nothing ‘alternative’ about this band. Clearly great at what they do they are still a scary vision of a Rockaway future as the festival demographic reaches bus pass age. Closer to the age of most present I do appreciate the mutual respect and love they were given but this felt like a boomer hippy throwback. For a festival with a rich history of booking cult bands, this looked like just a bad cult. A baffling booking but maybe I just wasn’t drunk enough…
Hang on now, looks like some bloke has got lost on his way back from the darts…oh, no it’s just Jack (aka, Leon the Pig Farmer) from fascinating sonic-psych duo The Dirt. Now these are quite enticing. Jack is joined by Japanese partner Sachiko and the musical chemistry is hypnotic. Jack’s urgent spoken word delivery with Sachiko’s repetitive primal grooves is so compulsive!
The art-pop geniuses award of Rockaway goes to – The Itch. The more they played the better they became. The single Ursula is touched by so many influences the band deserve their own round at the pop quiz around the corner. The intro heavily nods to Layo & Bushwacka with synths then transforming the track into every cool Eighties electro pop band you’ve ever heard. There’s the gloomy beauty of The Blue Nile and Japan, a touch of Visage, Talk Talk and Depeche Mode and even hints of A Certain Ratio too as Simon Tyrie sings “we could bring down the government, we could put their heads on spikes!”. Simon. See, Even his name screams the 1980s. There’s some stuff that’s more funked up but The Itch just grow and grow on you until they’ve seeped into your head and you think you’ve always known them, always loved them. Blimey and I don’t even like nostalgic sentimentality. There’s even room at the end for No More Sprechgessang with its Bodega-like mood completing a very classy performance as Simon promises, “see you on the 2p machines!”. It’s certainly a lot for Katy J Pearson to follow and the room almost feels too big for her and many are making plans to head to see the final bands of the festival over at the smelly Studio 36 hangar.
It’s standing room only at the new place partly because the oldies have already nabbed the table and chairs at the back. So chairs are kindly shared by the Ride merch man at the edge of the stage. The unmistakable 90s icon Miki Berenyi hits the stage with the Miki Berenyi Trio. Seeing the Lush star on stage with her guitar was a privilege. A perfect blend of new songs and old. Recent single Vertigo, a cover of Lush track Undertow and a track from Miki’s Piroshka phase – Scratching The Lid – an album, Miki half-joked, was bought by a handful of people. She knew her audience well and the set sailed away on a buoyant cover of Britpop era Lush and the sadly still relevant Ladykillers. An associate of Backseat Mafia who shall remain nameless nabbed not just the setlist and bought Miki’s book but also blagged Miki’s plectrum from her merch desk. All this as the nearby Ride merch remained unsold.
I swear Christmas is just the boozy warm-up friendly for the punters at Butlin’s and Rockaway is the match that matters, So many are still swigging away as the very eagerly awaited Sprints. The Dubliners – led by the whirling Catherine wheel Karla Chubb – enveloped in red light and haze, pulsated with menace. Threatening to boil over at any point in every song, especially Something’s Gonna Happen as Karla virtually headbutts her keyboard. Literary Mind is packed with enough sass and sonic attack to cause a tsunami in the Irish Sea. Karla demands the frenzied following runs around the mosh pit as befits a band called Sprints and the tension mounts in Up And Comer. The set doesn’t even reach the end before many are muttering, “Should’ve been headlining!” and it’s really hard to disagree! Sprints are on fire.
Ride it is then who end the tenth anniversary Rockaway Beach Festival at Butlin’s in Bognor. Perhaps unfairly I’d always considered Ride fans to be Oasis fans with O’Levels. Ride have the duration of a football match on stage. It’s a lovely and melodic take on shoegaze. They do hold the audience attention for the entirety of their set. After past years at Rockaway when the shoegaze offering might as well have stayed home to play on zoom at least Bell, Gardener and co are engaging and know how to entertain. My mind wanders often though. Mainly thinking, what a travesty it is that Teenage Fanclub don’t get this level of adoration because they are superior songwriters.
The Studio 36 bins are over flowing with plastic beer detritus now. Rockaway regulars have loved this tenth edition – as they knew they would – but like the Emperor’s new clothes they daren’t say anything else. The beer has helped, of course! As traditional now as Christmas dinner with the in-laws, Rockaway has to be done. From that early moment when kind Doug bought those drinks to the end when a selfless woman called Abby is voluntarily picking up the scattered litter and tidying around Studio 36 – Rockaway Beach has been built on love. In spite of my attempts at cynicism and the times when it seems to lack an edge, these are my kind of people and yours too. Everyone keeping it…nice. Before kickstarting the year and squirming at their bank account whilst nursing post-Rockaway colds. Bless you Doug, bless you Abby and bless you Rockaway Beach Festival!
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