Peacock Freakshow 2 - Review
Peacock Freakshow II
Harbour Tavern, Bridlington
8th August 2026
Far too many moons ago for me to count, or want to admit to, I used to be young, and I owned a money box. It was small, green, and made to look like a little book. It must have been designed by the same evil genius that came up with the Fray Bentos/Tyne Brand pie tins and bear traps. If you didn’t have a key or an oxyacetylene torch, you’d not get into it. When I wasn’t wasting most of my money on ha’penny chews I would use it to save my copper coins and save up for a bag of sweets or one of those toy soldiers with a metal base. However, to make this relevant to my review I must explain that embossed on the cover of this pseudo tome was the message ‘Mighty Oaks form Small Acorns grow’. Although it being many years before Yoda appeared the words have stuck in my mind to this day.
And that is where Peacock Freakshow comes in. The first event, last year, was a small affair which could have been better attended. The despite a smattering of Prog aficionados, the audience mainly consisted of friends or family of the bands who were playing. But those that did get there had a great time and saw some wonderful bands. Then, a year later, Peacock Freakshow came back and the little acorn had grown. Not yet a mighty oak but the green shoots are looking promising.
Like most days in August, and the preceding month, it was a gloriously sunny day and, arriving in Bridlington, with a couple of hours to spare, I obeyed the almost mandatory tradition and spent the spare time looking for a fish and chip shop that didn’t have a plaque outside proclaiming that it was ‘Award Winning’ and after eating them, I could see why.
Then it was time to go to the venue, the upstairs room of The Harbour Tavern, which, as the name suggested, overlooked and allowed for a beautiful view of the harbour. A cosy space but thanks to all the people there, and the heat of the day, it was like being in that scene from bridge on the River Kwai, and as the day went on the feeling of that sweatbox increased along with the temperature. But if you can’t stand the heat don’t go to concerts in August, so I kept myself hydrated and settled down to what promised to be an exceptional day of Prog Rock at its best.
After last year, this year was all the better for having so many regular audience members faces. Stout hearted people who like their music and do not mind travelling for the best genre of music.
The mini festival’s mission statement for year one was to give bands for far away the opportunity to play in a location that they wouldn’t normally get to and, hopefully, widen their fan base, and this year kept to that premis. However, thanks to a couple of line up changes that remit was not as all encompassing as the organiser, Thomas Morris, had planned. But that didn’t diminish the quality of those that did play.
First onto the small stage and starting the day off with an energetic bang was Tim O’Connor’s Cowfish. There actual start was a close call as the bassist had logistical and mechanical issues so only arrived with 3 minutes to spare but that tension added to the intensity. The set comprised of all their, soon to be released, new album Alchemy of Dream. So even though I had seen them before, the songs were new and it certainly whetted my appetite for the time I can get hold of a copy of the CD. If that is just 50% as good as the way they played it on stage, then it will be a belter and well worth adding to my regular play list.
It was a situation where I wanted them to play more, but the heat of the room also made me want to go outside, get some fresh air and then nip back inside, go to the bar and continue my hydration regime. But for those who seemed to have been born on Mercury and didn’t mind the sweltering heat, the music was maintained by some great Prog tracks played by the DJ Aubrey Wilberforce, AKA the Auburn Phantom.
After that much needed break was one of Thomas Morris’s own bands, Argham (or as the fans call them, the anagrammatical ‘Graham’). Bedecked in a top that had me thinking of Mr Tumble and a hat that made him, as always, look like a scout master version of David Crosby, Thomas, and his band, seemed to take up the high energy challenge laid down by Cowfish and performed as if the room was freezing and they had to turn up the musical thermometer. Intense and with an organ delivering a big sound that made the beat feel like it was punching me in the chest they rolled out some familiar songs along with a few new ones that will, like the previous band, be released soon, but not soon enough for my liking but I patience was never my strongest vice. Many of the new songs had a 1960’s San Francisco that was at times trippy and in others dark and persistent. Imagine Thomas dressed like Grace Slick but fronting the Doors. And with that mental image now planted in your mind I will swiftly move on to the next act.
I must confess something here, with apologies freely given to him, but when I first saw Buzz Elliot live, I was not a fan. Not being familiar with his act I just didn’t get him and that stopped me from enjoying his set. However, since then I have seen him play quite a few times, either solo or in his NWOBHM band, Hammerhead, and thankfully he quickly grew on me and he has become one of my favourite performers and music festivals now seem slightly diminished when he isn’t there to entertain with his own brand of Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band form of musical silly genius. It also helps that he is one of the nicest blokes you could ever want to meet. Ever the crowd pleaser he started off with Neil Young’s Like a Hurricane and, to me his version sounded far better than the original. Sadly, his set was limited to only half an hour so him asking for song requests received replies such as Suppers Ready, Karn Evil 9, Roundabout and other Prog classics which would have meant that he wouldn’t have finished until midnight. But in that time allocated, plus a few stolen minutes, he managed to play his own fun version of Tubular Bells, all of Musical box, which had the audience joining in, and a stonking Frank Zappa song to end his set. He filled a short space of time with more great music than many modern bands can manage in a full two-hour set.
After a much-needed break for more fresh air and more hydration, the fourth act was Ice-9ine, from Nottinghamshire. I managed to collar bassist Nigel Route, of the band, and ask him about the origins of the cold title. Long story short, it comes from a Kurt Vonnegut novel and is to do with various states of water. If you want a longer explanation read Cat’s Cradle as my book reviews tend to appear on other websites. But what of the music? They were the only band I had not seen before so, other than a brief visit to Youtube I was not familiar with them or their music and was ready, willing, and able to be impressed, which I most certainly was. I could hear influences from many a great band, ranging from Yes, Weather Report, Queen and, despite the absence of a trumpet, even Miles Davis. However despite all the varied ingredients they managed to cook up something unique and delicious. Jane Route, the lead singer was dressed to impress and had a wonderful voice, but she was outshined by their young guitarist, Ethan Anderson. He had the look of a boyish Phil Lynott/ Hendrix combination which made him stand out but that was nothing compared to the craftmanship on his instrument. A single word sums that up, phenomenal! He made me think of the afore mentioned Hendrix, Rory Gallagher and Steve Hackett all rolled into one. A definite asset to the band and someone to watch out for in the future. But a band should be more than any one member and the music should be as memorable, if not more, than any axeman, which Ice-9ine were. I was left impressed and I am looking forward to seeing them, once more, when they play at the forthcoming Nene Valley Rock Festival. Unfortunately I didn’t see any merchandise otherwise I would have bought their back catalogue as well.
It is amazing how many bands, and so much talent, can be on one stage is such a short time but PF II managed to exceed all expectations by adding an extra surprise act. As the members of Haze had planned to attend as part of the audience, they agreed to do an acoustic set. Sadly, due to time constraints they only had 30 minutes, but they filled those unforgiving minutes with a race well run. (With apologies to Mr Kipling for ruining his poem). Another band I have seen quite a few times and on each occasion they had been fun and enjoyable, however the acoustic version of the band was a new experience to me and it gave their songs a deeper, more personal dimension to them. A mixture of sea shanty, Irish Jig and Prog folk, care of a cover of Jethro Tull’s Witches Promise, it was another instance of me wishing a band wasn’t so restricted by time constraints and could have played for a lot longer.
Although by now the event was getting near to its publicised finish time, the audience didn’t seem to be to be bothered by that and the time required for the headline act to set up gave them one final chance to get some fresh air and stretch their legs before the inimitable Spriggan Mist took to the stage. I must confess that, having reviewed Spriggan Mist’s live performance on a few occasions, I was worried that I would not be able to say anything fresh or new about them but I am glad to say that I might have to look at my thesaurus and dig up some new superlatives as the cramped and limited space on the stage made them adapt and turn the oft seen performance into something more chaotic, fun and personal.
Being so close to each other, and the audience, the smiles on the faces of the band and the many jokes, mostly aimed at the wonderful lead singer, Fay Brotherhood, turned the set into a show which went further than the usual high energy set. They were a group of friends having fun and that joy was contagious and spread to all the audience. The confined space made it seem like a comedic battle between Fay who, on several occasions came close to stabbing Baz, the ursine bassist, with her antler headdress while he, in turn, managed to repeatedly miss hitting her in the head with the neck of his instrument.
By the end of their set, they even had a few of the audience, including myself, up and dancing, or as close to dancing as old proggers can manage and Baz, leaving the stage, joined in with the revelry, adding his own high kicks which somehow managed to just miss my head. HR or health and safety might not have approved but I thought it was hilarious.
Sadly, like all great things, the concert had to come to an end but, returning to the simile which started my review, I look forward to the acorn growing a little more next year. Organic growth for Peacock freakshow III and, having been given a few clues as to who have already been lined up for it, I am already acting like one of Pavlov’s dogs in anticipation of another stunning day of music. Roll on 2027, I’ll be there, but I will opt for a better fish and chip shop for that day!
Review Courtesy of Darren Walker