Angela Merkel has promised an intensive probe into the causes and until the results of that nobody should comment on the rights and wrongs.

Rainer Scheller, organiser of the event, has taken the quick decision to put an end to the festival for good – “Out of respect for the victims, their families and friends, we are going to discontinue the event in the future, and that means the end of the Love Parade.”

Hopefully out of this will come better safety precautions around crowd control, similar to those at football matches (which we’re similarly brought in after such tragedy).

Photo Courtesy of AcimaH

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If you need a reminder of how good they are live, here’s a taster form when they played Austin Music Hall in Texas.

Nathan Followill has told Spin.com that the new album is “Fun” and “Beach Inspired” – so here’s hoping for a chilled out sunny day in Hyde Park to make the most of it – especially if you’ve missed out on V Festival tickets (like me).

Picture courtesy of Ceedub13

The performance is super-tight: Laura-Mary Carter thrashing out scuzzy power chords and a seemingly unending stream of catchy riffs on a lone guitar as Steve Ansell accompanies with powerful, energetic drumming.

While Steve Ansell chats to the audience between songs, Laura-Mary looks downright unhappy to be here, spending the entire gig in a perpetual scowl. At one point, she actually stops halfway through a song because her guitar is out of tune (not the audience could tell; besides, when playing an amp with enough distortion to fell a tree one flat note is fairly irrelevant).

Despite Steve Ansell’s attempts to crack some jokes, the audience become bored watching Laura-Mary laboriously tuning up her “Kurt Cobain guitar”, and when someone shouts at her to hurry up, she tells them to fuck off.

The mood doesn’t really improve from there. Laura-Mary takes a rare moment to address the audience and announces she’ll go kill herself after the gig.

It’s a shame, because despite the unfortunate atmosphere, the music is absolutely astounding. Every song they play – the setlist focusing heavily on the new album – sounds perfect, a supercharged version of their recorded equivalents. “Heartsink” (introduced as “a song for dancing to”) gets the kids at the front leaping into the air; elsewhere, the audience shouts back angsty choruses like “can’t escape anything in this town!” and “don’t ask the reasons why!”

The only disappointment of the night is “Colours Fade”, a proggy departure in style for the band. Though one of their best songs on record, it lacks the depth of sound it needs when played live with a single guitar.

Whether or not they concede to adding in some extra musicians to their stripped-down show in the future, judging by tonight’s show it’s likely that Blood Red Shoes will continue to play invigorating, energetic music as long as there is an audience out there that wants it. That is, as long as Laura-Mary’s guitar stays in tune.

Image Courtesy of MDMAZING

Opening with the The Jeweller’s Hand – the final song on third album Humbug – it’s apparent that the band have mellowed somewhat since their earlier days. Instead of an explosive introduction their arrival on stage is somewhat subdued, with the band beginning the laid-back number behind a massive red curtain that slowly opens. It’s an effective opener, and the band waste no time in laying into their more famous tracks, such as first single I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor which sparks mass hysteria among the 11,000 plus crowd.

But it’s not just the album tracks which get an airing here, as recent b-side Sketchead (taken from recent single Cornerstone) is introduced as “one of our new songs”. As a song it’s difficult to place, and not one that you can see sitting alongside Crying Lightning and the aforementioned Cornerstone. It serves as more of a bridge between old and new, linking a wide gulf which is all the more evident in a live environment.

The raw The View From The Afternoon seems out-of-place in this new, mellower Monkeys set, while the seedy My Propeller and haunting synths of Pretty Visitors somehow suit the band more these days. Meanwhile, the tracks which are included from Favourite Worst Nightmare – 505, Brianstorm, Fluorescent Adolescent (complete with the end of Mardy Bum inserted halfway through) et al – sound fresher accompanied by Humbug. That said, When The Sun Goes Down arguably gets the most rousing reception of all as lead Monkey Alex Turner takes the reins to perform the introduction on his own – again inciting riots in the crowd when the song really kicks off.

It’s similar to the earlier scenario with I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor, making it look as if the majority of the audience are here for the select few songs from Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I Am Not that are performed tonight. The noise that greats Turner’s every word is deafening, and the finale – 505 – prompts nearly 20 people being hauled from the crowd by security staff.

By the end of their near hour and a half set Turner heads off, leaving the band to finish the song without him. It’s a strange ending, with many of the crowd unable to believe they’re not coming out for a second encore – but alas, the house lights come on and music pipes in over the PA. It’s not often that a band manages to keep up the quality for a entire set, but tonight Arctic Monkeys managed it in spectacular style.

Arctic Monkeys’ Humbug is nominated in our Album of 2009 vote.

Picture by thetripwirenyc

Had I the foresight to have vomited “sweat”, “angst”, and “androgyny” across my pad, I would have been set. Unfortunately, this is where my conceit ends, and I have to again descend into proper writing.

As we all know; the best shows in the world are the ones where you’re in the minority of legal drinkers. Hazily adrift in a sea of sobriety and headbands; that is when you can appreciate the glory of live music. I was excited: the line-up was as good as I could ask for. Up first: Straight Lines, a hard-hitting noise factory from South Wales and possibly the most aesthetically incongruous group I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing – the lead singer looked as though he should be tied to his mother’s apron, while the lead guitarist’s red shirt reminded me alarmingly of the big bad wolf. Thankfully, the music was significantly better than the look.

Admittedly a bit androgynous, a little samey, and a little clunky, it was nonetheless good fun. Noisy, sweaty, shouty, and some truly inspired refrains. A particular favourite was the completely unexpected bridge lifted verbatim from Buddy Holly (Weezer); set against the vocals which you could find in any Futureheads song (seriously). Lacking in stage presence, yes, but tighter than the 40 year old virgin.

From the 40 year old virgin to Attack! Attack!, the local jailbait: loose, and oh so disappointing at the climax. Whereas “noise” was a compliment to Straight Lines, you expect a lot more from a band on their second album. You expect clean cut edges, and refined song-lists. Not so here; all the run was lifted from the crushingly disappointing second album. Fan favourite You And Me was the personal highlight, and that was just because they started mashing their instruments. Don’t get me wrong: it was good, it just wasn’t Attack! Attack! It was unstructured shouting; no epiphany moments of tinkling synth. Heavier than their studio work, but shitter, too.

Salvation came crashing down as inebriation grabbed hold, however, in the shape of Kids In Glass Houses; more ear-rapists from South Wales. Like being punched in the head over and over, it was just how it was meant to be: unreal stage presence from the Welsh Tom Chaplin look-a-like; heady nonconformism and a smattering of humour. They certainly gave me what I want.

Alas, this is where my notes tail off to unintelligible scribbles, and I remember why: I’d thrown myself into the pit, I was brawling with Jefree Star clones half my age.

Start hard. Fade out. Get kicked. Vomit. Perfect.

Picture by Chris Friese

After Common Dreads came the likes of Solidarity, Step Up and Mothership. The band then moved into No Sleep Tonight, their next single. Although it does contain a drop of ‘pop’ in its sound, it’s probably one of the best from their new album. The crowd was chaotic at this point – the atmosphere amazing. Havoc A and B along with Gap In The Fence and Zzzonked were only a few of the tracks that followed. The set was packed full, there was something for everyone. Even with all the songs to play the band still managed to find time to engage with the crowd. Hectic restarted the set after a lengthy chat, it sparked a ‘shout’-a-long. The anthem/chant track turned out to be one of the night’s best. Enter Shikari and Fanfare rounded off the set before the band left the stage for the most obvious encore – of course they were going to return. Some of the crowd took part in a sit-down protest until the band inevitably returned.

Sorry You’re Not A Winner began – and as the claps lead into the verse the crowd went berserk, with everyone coming together to shout “scratchcard glory” and “sorry you’re not a winner”. It started off brilliantly and would have finished in the same way had the band not stopped the song to chat for an unnecessary amount of time. The night was brought to an end with Juggernauts – the room filled with a mix of jumping bodies, mosh-pits and chants – a beautiful sight.

With most of the set taken from the brilliant new album, it was inevitable it was going to be a brilliant night. A lively and wild party was expected and Enter Shikari did not disappoint – they delivered what everyone wanted.

Picture by Andrew Nielsen

Back in June 2006, at gig number one, my brother and I found ourselves in the sauna-like box room of a Newcastle pub called the Dog And Parrot, with under a hundred other people sitting on the floor in a vague attempt to avoid the moisture in the air and to let everyone have an equal chance at seeing the tiny stage. There was a peculiar mixture of the easy atmosphere which usually comes with watching a mate’s band playing with a reverential attention, as everyone attending listened intently to the words they didn’t know, and sang back the ones they did as if they had been plucked out of their own heads.

Fast forward to Newcastle’s University, October 2009, and mercifully little has actually changed. Yes the venue is comparatively cavernous, and the beer is extortionately expensive, but the masses of new faces in the crowd are just as eager, and the man on stage with an acoustic guitar and punk spirit, still manages to connect with each and every one of them.

After spirited support by the hypnotically chaotic Beans On Toast (who’s now added rapping with an accordion to his skill set), and the gravel throated roar of Fake Problems, Frank Turner hit the stage with an instrument by instrument build up intro to Live Fast, Die Old. More of an overt rock song than a lot of the rest of his catalogue, track one of the recent Poetry Of The Deed album did provide an indication of the shape of the rest of the show. The show marked the biggest solo show of Turner’s career (until the next day at Manchester), and it was time to celebrate.

A well balanced set-list successfully mixed some of the most anthemic of Turner’s back catalogue with the more upbeat songs from Poetry Of The Deed, ensuring the mood remained at a near constant, beer fuelled, sing-along party, with only a too up-tempo reworking of last year’s seminal single Long Live The Queen feeling slightly out of place.

Love, Ire And Song, Fathers Day, Worse Things Happen at Sea and latest single The Road all provided mass sing-alongs, and as usual all paled in the face of collective performances of The Real Damage and The Ballad Of Me And My Friends which brought the huge crowd and Frank Turner together as one voice for a few incredible minutes which prove why the man’s shows are always so special.

The highlights of the show though were easily the unexpected nods towards the past. First up was one of the oldest songs, Nashville Tennessee, which spotlighted Frank’s recent increase in fan-base well as not nearly as many people knew the words than they did to the newer tracks. More impressively though was a beautifully understated rendition of Million Dead’s first single, Smiling At Strangers On Trains. Preceded by a reminiscence that the last time Frank played the venue was with MD, the rarely played adaptation of Smiling received a rapturous reception by those who knew it and knew that they were witnessing a treat, a special thank you from the man on stage for helping him get where he is without much more support than from that of his fans.

Ending proceedings with Photosynthesis, complete with Beans On Toast and members of Fake Problems playing along, Frank launched himself into the crowd with a cry of “I won’t sit down / and I won’t shut up / and most of all I will not grow up”, leaving all those in attendance thankful for the sentiments and the conviction behind them, and knowing that for all the brilliance of this gig, Frank Turner can only continue to give more and reach even higher and further in coming years, and we’ll all be there while he does it, singing the words back at him.

Picture by freeloosedirt

Lost in Stereo instantly began and the crowd went wild. It was the perfect opener – quick and lively – the pace was set. Six Feet Under the Stars followed, although the pace was a little slower, the momentum was not lost. It was clear the night was going to be a good one for All Time Low, they were professional and perfected, Alex Gaskarth’s vocals were – as always – unfaulted.

They glided through songs like Jersey Rae and Poppin Champaign – making sure their set provided a mixture of old and new songs. However, it was tracks from their latest album which got the biggest crowd reaction. After a quick chat with the fans, the band exploded into Break Your Little Heart, one of the nights best and it sparked an instant sing-along.

Although this time last year the band were playing in the Academy’s smallest room – to a much smaller audience – they have the showmanship and crowd pleasing tactics as those who’ve been around for a decade. After Stella, Coffee Shop Soundtrack followed, as did Remembering Sunday – a song where Alex Gaskarth shows off his talent before the band join him. Weightless was next, a full crowd sing-along and an energetic performance from both band and crowd brought the set to hault – the boys left the stage.

As the room filled once again with chants and claps, the band returned. Damned If I Do Ya, Damned If I Don’t restarted the set. The fans sang along to every word, however it was the chorus which really brought the fans to life – its punchy beat and rhythm meant no one was standing still. The set ended with the fantastic Dear Maria – the fans and Alex Gaskarth merged into one voice. The air was filled with a sea of clapping hands one minute and jumping bodies the next – no one was still, it would have been an impossible task. Its incredible chorus and fast pace ended the night perfectly.

All Time Low were flawless throughout their set, and mixing up tracks from both oldest and newest albums meant there was something for everyone. They played ten tracks – which is an impressive amount – however the crowd wanted more. It was a shame they missed out Hello Brooklyn and A Party Song from their set – two which could have fitted in excellently. An amazing gig – an amazing performance. This is definitely one for All Time Low to be proud of.

Picture by Victoria Morse

Just as well then that tonight’s headliners deal almost exclusively in songs that do just that. Fanfarlo take to the stage with barely enough room to wiggle an elbow, the six of them and their myriad instruments filling the Bodega’s small stage with ease. There’s everything from the standard, guitars and drums, to mandolins, trumpets, keyboards, glockenspiels, wood saws and those keyboard things with hosepipes in. Imagine the majesty of Arcade Fire meeting the euphoria of the Polyphonic Spree after the Appleseed Cast and Anathallo set them up at a party, in your front room, which is crowded with friends. That’s what tonight’s gig is like, probably.

Fanfarlo’s 45 minute set is filled with songs from their sumptuous debut album, Reservoir. Old favourite Drowning Men makes an appearance as does album opener I’m A Pilot and current single The Walls Are Coming Down, which has seemingly been on loop at BBC 6Music for the last few weeks. The airplay seems to have done some good. The Bodega is close to capacity and most are singing, dancing and smiling along to the aforementioned single, and for that matter, for the duration of the set.

Things were brought to a close all too soon with Fanfarlo modestly accepting the adoring gratitude of this small upstairs room in central Nottingham. Swedish support act, First Aid Kit (who were equally delightful), soon beckon them back on stage to do an impromptu cover of a Devendra Banhart song. The applause and cheers that meet both acts come the end are rapturous to say the least.

Judging by that reaction, the crowd seemed to enjoy it, this particular onlooker leaving with a big grin on his face, calm restored and an overwhelming feeling that despite the irritating events of the preceding hours, everything is going to be all right. Things are more than all right. They’re positively joyful when bands like Fanfarlo are around.

Picture by Oliver.Peel

In reality, while Hockey are described as new rave soulsters, they have melting pot of styles and influences which occasionally stray over the lines into the territories of the likes of Bob Dylan and Bon Jovi. But it is only when they stick to their original musical definition that they really hit the musical nail on the head.

This touch of negativity perhaps belies the true story. After all, the band has notched up rave reviews in the music press and even at the Bodega, the crowd seemed to be perfectly happy with the gig, showing approval at their more upbeat disco-infiltrated grooves and soulful melodies with wiggling hips and gentle bops.

Yet to honest ears, three or four of the tracks ever so slightly whiffed of clichéd American rock, showing that there are a few flies in the Hockey ointment that could do with being picked out.

Main support, Little Comets prepared the way with a fusion of indie pop which brought a smile to everyone’s faces, as did the blue rope suspended across the stage from which their percussion instruments hung. Then Hockey kicked off with Work, a brooding and soulful track tinged with beats and lyrics which spoke of woe at the daily 9am to 5pm grind. Faint comparisons can and have been drawn with the throb of LCD Soundsystem and the Strokes, because of lead singer Benjamin Grubin’s American drawled vocals – but don’t let that be the measuring stick, because as yet, that bar is set too high.

Launching into Learn To Lose, the mood was still up tempo and Hockey’s funk-punk combo with a peppering of “du du du”s, a catchy guitar solo across the bridge and the sing-a-long chorus of “Oh I’ve got to learn to lose for a while” are inspired – in a roller disco 70s kind of way.

3am Spanish, Curse This City and Wanna Be Black were definitely a bit more appealing on the album Mind Chaos, as the subtlety seemed to be lost live. Nevertheless, all had that same lyrical witticism and danceable, likeable quality about them.

But when Hockey took off their skates and dropped the funk, they lost their initial charm and started to sound like something else, something less individual. On Four Holy Photos, the image of Benjamin sat on a stool in the middle of the stage with an acoustic guitar, harmonica, country-esque harmonies and half-sung half-talked fast paced lyrics was too Bob Dylan for words. His impression was second to none.

Song Away adopted a cringe worthy Bon Jovi style chorus and the slow ballad of Everyone’s The Same Age went down a similar road. Luckily they stepped up a few notches with another of the album’s highlights, Too Fake, with that same effortless purr of the drums, guitars and vocals declaring, “look out, I’ve got too much soul for the world!”

Everything was polished off nicely with Put The Game Down – a tune adding a little more fuel to the fire of comparisons with the Strokes’ Julian Casablancas’ vocals.

Hockey’s Bodega appearance mirrored many a first time experience of seeing a band. At times they impressed, at times they bewildered and down right grated, but nevertheless this was a good gig. It’s what you’d get if you crossed a DJ set from LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy with his disco-tinged grooves, a bit of soul from the likes of James Brown, together with husky softer rock vocals. Which is why on the whole it works well; sometimes it’s even inspired, but occasionally it’s a bit too pedestrian and familiar.