Click the band links to check get a myspace taste of the best bands of the weekend! 

Adam Richmond heads to the Brighton for a three day gig crawl, fish and chips and end of the pier zombies. Take heed for the best live acts of the summer and a seaside getaway only an hour away

Let’s go to Brighton at the weekend... if it’s good enough for Kele from Bloc Party it’s good enough for me. Better yet there’s a three day music festival to hang the trip together. Laying on over 200 bands in 30 venues, The Great Escape serves up the chance to see

the best, most exciting bands in the country, and you don’t have to stand in a field. If you missed out you can still catch other  big name acts at the myriad other festivals on this summer (see p17) or at gigs in good old London...

THURSDAY

Of course the sunny weather the start of the week had promised dried up by the time we arrived in Brighton, a thick gloom hanging in the air. No matter, we got our wristbands and set about charting the best course to see as many of the bands as possible. It’s tricky stuff and soon you realise that you’re going to miss some of the bands you came for. Broken Records, Fanfarlo, Late of the Pier and The Black Angels fell by the wayside and we hadn’t heard a note played.

With fish and chips lining the stomach it was down to the pebble beached seafront for the first gig of the weekend. Eugene McGuinness served up a solid set of throwaway acoustic delights, with a strong falsetto and pop hooks impressing the crowd. Two doors down The Boxer Rebellion’s dense, ethereal rock impressed, but failed to excite.

Now the charm of a gig crawl (even the Camden one) is catching a band you weren’t expecting, and so it was at the next venue, with Jim Gipson and The Runaway Sons, a countrified Jeff Buckley, belting out rousing, bluesy Americana to pleasing effect. A highlight of the week, AA Bondy followed, plucking out affecting and heartwarming blues to a hushed crowd. With echoes of Ryan Adams and Bob Dylan, his dark, bruised, lived in lyrics cut to the core.

Two man band No Age made more noise than I thought possible. Feted by taste maker Pitchfork, the duo’s vicious thrust sucks you in, their unstoppable riffs and insistent drums grabbing your nuts and squeezing for good measure. A joyous racket, if that’s your bag.

Dog tired, there was room for one more.Channelling the spirit of Rage Against the Machine, Future of the Left’s thick, jarring riffs rumbled to the very core – contrary, vital and altogether pretty great. With ears ringing, legs aching, it was back to the shoddy B&B (with walls so thin we could hear the guy next door snoring).

FRIDAY

Morning and a jaunt up the pier, jellied eels, oily donuts, those slidey 10p things that keep on taking with the promise of... more 10ps, but the overhang never dropped, so I shot zombies instead. I didn’t realise how much I missed seaside arcades and the smell of rock. When I have kids this will be our first low rent British holiday, that’s for sure.

Nostalgia ringing in my ears it was time for more music. Jonny Flynn’s rich golden voice and pop country stylings started the evening off nicely. Through chance, we caught the end of a truly mental French electro pop duo (think Junior Senior), dressed in tight tennis shorts called Curry & Coco. When they belted out Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun I was won over by their sheer excitement. That they were playing in a quiet church just made things stranger. The band we’d come to see weren’t on for some reason, so we bailed.

A bit of improvisation ended with the truly shite Electric City, but we finished strongly with the mighty Strange Death of Liberal England. Comparisons with Arcade Fire are unfair and they’ve failed to capture their raucous energy on record, but live the five-piece achieve a momentum that is hard to beat. It was a rousing finish to the day.

SATURDAY

Taking a punt on Cheeky Cheeky and the Nosebleeds (yes, that is their name) could have gone either way. The NME seem to rate them, and there was a time when that meant something. As it was we were faced with a gang of spotty 12 year olds (well, maybe they weren’t that young) churning out the usual jangly indie pop that everyone is thoroughly bored of (except the NME clearly). Singing about girls and going out can be fun, but here it just seemed cynical and bereft of wit or good tunes.

The band of the day, perhaps the week, was Bon Iver - fragile folk has never been better. Frightened Rabbit managed the difficult trick of being both epic and immediate, something The Twilight Sad failed to do in their set. Their album was one of the best last year, but apart from the lead singer’s best efforts, the rest of the band plugged along uninterestedly. Which is a shame, given their music on record is powerful, gripping and stirring.

Alas, the rest of the night was a downer, Reuben had cancelled and everywhere else was queued up beyond belief, so big name acts like Lightspeed Champion and Glasvegas were both no goes. A damp squib of an ending to an otherwise top weekend.