- Sheffield's No Bounds was a risky venture. The UK festival scene is not kind to radical programming—for every Counterflows or Supersonic, there are plenty that have crashed and burned. The hope behind No Bounds is that the Steel City, with its own rich history, is attached enough to electronic music to support a wide-reaching programme built around some big names. The founder, Liam O'Shea, AKA Lo Shea, already runs the thriving Hope Works venue, the reputation of which he hopes will be a honey pot to draw people towards the more exploratory aspects of the festival.
It quickly became clear that persuading people to travel remains hard. There were a scattering of punters from various places in the UK, Newcastle to Brighton, but the vast majority were Sheffield residents, which left some sections of the festival sparsely attended—specifically early afternoon events and the first night at Hope Works. But it also became clear that the Sheffield crowd believe in making the most of what's presented to them, and combined with attention to detail on production (strikingly beautiful and crisp Void soundsystems in all areas), this meant that even if Kara-Lis Coverdale's opulent ambience and Rashad Becker's tactile, sculptural abstractions were played to just 30 or 40 people sprawled out on the floor at Saturday lunchtime, the vibe was still heady and engaged. Even Terre Thaemlitz's frankly harrowing sound/film/manifesto presentation, Deproduction—which comprised hardcore Japanese incest and gay porn put through a kaleidoscope and overlaid with incredibly dark textual meditations on childbirth, reproduction, family dynamics and global politics—kept the room rapt and provoked a smart, well-paced Q&A at the end.
That same enthusiasm was there from the off for the more danceable acts, even the less orthodox ones. On that first Hope Works night, not only did the crowd surge into the main room for Mr. G's glorious live set of back-to-fundamentals house, but they also gave it their all for some of the diversions from four-to-the-floor: Ikonika's outstanding set of robo-R&B and abstract booty went down just fine, as did Nkisi's strangely cosmic hardcore. But even more impressively, Rian Treanor—Mark Fell's son—managed to get the central courtyard fully raving to some of the more abstracted, shattered rhythms of the weekend. Of the Saturday daytime programming, both Ross From Friends' hugely accomplished live show, involving sax, guitars and computers, and Steevio & Suzybee's psychedelic modular techno, had a warehouse filled with unselfconscious mid-afternoon dancing. Laurel Halo's woozy live set with drummer Eli Kezler had the whole place swaying as if spiritually entranced in a '70s ashram, while Giant Swan's brutal, shouty, live punk-techno sent the place into a delirium.
Saturday at Hope Works began with more abstractions, from Inga Copeland, Mark Fell and co., which seamlessly flowed into a celebration of techno and electro in their best and purest forms—and good god did Sheffield turn out to show its appreciation for that. The place was rammed, from teens to 50-somethings, all fully committed to the party, all gloriously appreciative and bathing in the sound and their own collective body heat. Jeff Mills dropping Underground Resistance's "Jupiter Jazz" would likely be the highlight of most parties, but here it was just one of many. And the quality was there all the way down the bill: Minor Science's dubwise electro was excellent, and Swing Ting and MC Fox did a stellar job of reviving the 6 AM crowd with their good times bashment. Just as great were Eastern Bloc's Akaram and Sheffield's own STI & Linneman, whose electro set peaked by sending the floor doolally to Humanoid 's "Stakker Humanoid." Both performances went down in the 100-capacity High Density Energy Chamber room, which totally lived up to its name.
The weekend coasted to an end with a friendly little social on Sunday night, as local crews DJ'd and played live for an almost entirely local crowd. It nicely illustrated what No Bounds was all about: building a festival around Sheffield's very particular and special appreciation of electronic music. It's a festival in its infancy, and inevitably there were hiccups: things started late, technical mishaps happened, and yes, occasionally rooms weren't full. But even aside from the consistent quality of artists, the commitment of the crowd kept the momentum going the whole way through. It remains a risky enterprise, of course. But if ever a leftfield festival deserved to flourish, this is it.
Photo credit /
Alex Morgan
That same enthusiasm was there from the off for the more danceable acts, even the less orthodox ones. On that first Hope Works night, not only did the crowd surge into the main room for Mr. G's glorious live set of back-to-fundamentals house, but they also gave it their all for some of the diversions from four-to-the-floor: Ikonika's outstanding set of robo-R&B and abstract booty went down just fine, as did Nkisi's strangely cosmic hardcore. But even more impressively, Rian Treanor—Mark Fell's son—managed to get the central courtyard fully raving to some of the more abstracted, shattered rhythms of the weekend. Of the Saturday daytime programming, both Ross From Friends' hugely accomplished live show, involving sax, guitars and computers, and Steevio & Suzybee's psychedelic modular techno, had a warehouse filled with unselfconscious mid-afternoon dancing. Laurel Halo's woozy live set with drummer Eli Kezler had the whole place swaying as if spiritually entranced in a '70s ashram, while Giant Swan's brutal, shouty, live punk-techno sent the place into a delirium.
Saturday at Hope Works began with more abstractions, from Inga Copeland, Mark Fell and co., which seamlessly flowed into a celebration of techno and electro in their best and purest forms—and good god did Sheffield turn out to show its appreciation for that. The place was rammed, from teens to 50-somethings, all fully committed to the party, all gloriously appreciative and bathing in the sound and their own collective body heat. Jeff Mills dropping Underground Resistance's "Jupiter Jazz" would likely be the highlight of most parties, but here it was just one of many. And the quality was there all the way down the bill: Minor Science's dubwise electro was excellent, and Swing Ting and MC Fox did a stellar job of reviving the 6 AM crowd with their good times bashment. Just as great were Eastern Bloc's Akaram and Sheffield's own STI & Linneman, whose electro set peaked by sending the floor doolally to Humanoid 's "Stakker Humanoid." Both performances went down in the 100-capacity High Density Energy Chamber room, which totally lived up to its name. The weekend coasted to an end with a friendly little social on Sunday night, as local crews DJ'd and played live for an almost entirely local crowd. It nicely illustrated what No Bounds was all about: building a festival around Sheffield's very particular and special appreciation of electronic music. It's a festival in its infancy, and inevitably there were hiccups: things started late, technical mishaps happened, and yes, occasionally rooms weren't full. But even aside from the consistent quality of artists, the commitment of the crowd kept the momentum going the whole way through. It remains a risky enterprise, of course. But if ever a leftfield festival deserved to flourish, this is it. Photo credit / Alex Morgan