ireallylovemusic goes to glastonbury - 2005 - part 3
sunday
sunday became the day that i realised that dave gahan was right all along. god does indeed have a sick sense of humour. the day that my body starts to rebel against the excess of the last 48 hours, is the one day of the lost weekend that he brings out the sun machine in all its maximum strength and glory. glastonbury is once again transformed, this time to a hard edged crusty litter infused paradise. but, rather than dwell too much on the mass influx of clean people (sunday tickets for the locals - whereby the norms visibly recoil at the state of the amenities having had 3 days of continual usage by the muddied up hardliners), or the incoming hangover, my body needed nutrients. it needed a full english greased up heart stopping monster. i urgently found the relevant stall, found a seat and tucked in. only then, do i come to realise that within my peripheral vision on the pyramid stage are the bellydance superstars. the projected images of bodily gyrations and contortions play havoc with my imbalanced state. so, i concentrate on the schedule and formulate my plans, while trying to ignore my own internal movements.
here's what i came up with :
client @ 13:40 in the john peel tent
lcd soundsystem @ 19:40 john peel tent
catch the end of primal scream @ pyramid once lcd finished.
all nice and easy.
but before all that i should have a chance to catch the lovely brendon benson on the other stage. after all, the sun is out and what better than to check out some usa styled power pop. i make the trek. my legs ache, making me wonder just how much is a subscription to a local gym going to cost. i park my proverbial on the same platform as on friday and watch the happy and guitar centric pop guru that is brendan benson. i have his first solo album and it's rather fine set of innocently sparky pop songs, but that was before jack white started telling the world how great he is, and so his newer songs are met by warm applause from the die hard white stripes fans who are checking out what jack sees. it's not easy, considering the hour and the mental state of all around, but he does a fine job of getting the day off to the right start. i decide its time to make the walk to the john peel tent.
will my co-reveller remember the plan to meet up and ogle, ahem, appreciate the northern girls dirty electro and airline hostess uniforms ? i suspect he will.
sure enough, 5 minutes of hanging around the mixing desk area i find my friend. we catch up on the previous evenings chaos while looking at our watches - where are the girls ? no synths are being set up on stage. instead, very little appears to be happening. hmmm. after another 10 minutes of confusion, a mixing desk guru takes pity on our emotional state and points us in the direction of a scrappy little piece of a4 tacked onto the side of the mixing desk.
ryan adams has cancelled - so please be aware of the revised schedule - blah blah blah. all of which meant little other than the following :
client : 19:40, lcd soundsystem : 21:00
oh great. the one big clash of the weekend is now on. primal scream vs lcd soundsystem. like i said. god does indeed have a sick sense of humour. he knew i wanted to check em both out, divine retribution for all that has gone before, as previous to this revelation, sunday was all about having a dose of nyc punk funk disco followed by bobby g's turbo-techno-jagger excess. now, i have to decide between them.
time to kill - so we went walkabout. headed towards the dance village to check out the freaky laptop grooves and visuals of jamie liddel. while the new album is fit to burst with intricate beats, live band jazz funk grooves and real songs, on stage jamie starts to sing into a microphone, presses a few buttons here and there on some minimal gadget, ending up 10 minutes later with an almighty noise of looped live samples, clicky human beatbox rhythms, and a glorious dawning of the mans immense talent. very special. my mood lifts while the body begins to warm to the final day of excess. next we watched the masses enjoying the sun and the boogie woogie riffs by jools holland and his orchestra on the pyramid stage ("thats rico man - rico!") who you all know about, followed by a few minutes of soulwax, who i suspect need darkness and a dazzling light show to fully appreciate the hard edged powered up pop rock they serve up in the glorious sunshine.
then it's onto the dance village again, to see if the recent rave reviews for the unknown quantity atomic hooligan are correct. all i know is that the band have a new album out, and it has been described as a classic mix of breakbeat madness and rock noise. too bloody right. the interaction of the live band action (real drummer/guitars/bass) with the dj skills, make the next hour of drop dead break beat monsters truly mesmerising. old school acid house styled layered build up and kick back to hands in the air techno-ambient loops trick is deftly used throughout. the band are on fire, dragging on stage various singers to flesh out the dynamics to extreme proportions. one singer believes she is fronting a full on stadium rock band, throwing shapes, jumping around and generally generating a barnstorming atmosphere while her lungs give it up. for the hour atomic hooligan are on stage i dont think i have ever seen such a powered up performance all weekend. the best collision of rock noise and dance beats so far. the blood is rushing and the body demands respite and sustenance.
food is devoured en route, and i find myself listening to beach boy classics, people are celebrating the second coming while brian wilson goes through his distant (e)motions of being the ultimate karaoke band leader. having never appreciated the appeal of the beach boys due to overexposure, lack of surfing experience, and generally hating the vocal stylings, the mass euphoria being enjoyed to the songs your parents love, just made my blood run cold. this was killing my glastonbury groove, my childhood has nothing to do with today. i needed to escape.
back to john peel tent, my natural destination. as i approach the stage, there is an almighty noise emanating from within, thank fuck for that. noise. not sunshine harmonies. no happy smiley faces. on the stage is one man with guitar and one woman. they are cavorting provocatively, while a distorted mash of drum machine propelled beats and nasty-n-dirty sleaze driven licks are teased out of the solitary instrument. it's breathtaking stuff. quickly finding the revised schedule i find out this duo are known as the kills, and they fucking rock. after 20 minutes of their well choreographed show (and trust me it is a show) i know i will be checking out their records upon my return to civilisation. following this headfuck client haven't got a cat in hells chance really have they. they arrive in their previously mentioned uniforms and a mass exodus begins, with people being disgruntled at the lack of james murphy on stage. guess they hadn't seen the scrappy little piece of a4 that we had. the girls hold their own to the icy electro soundtrack beats, but the timing and location is all wrong. shame.
the minimal stage set up is cleared and against the clock they fill the space with a plethora of stuff. yes ladies and gentlemen. the lcd soundsystem are about to get the groove online.
obviously i have made my decision. and a damn fine one too. watching james murphy, himself, set the stage up in his trademark white suit is a joy to behold, while his drummer ('pat' - james main audience rapport was telling us the drummers name in between each track - guess you had to be there) lays down a beat for the mixing desk twiddlers. james decides that he trusts himself, and only himself ,to get the layout correct. the man is a perfectionist. and only when they do eventually start the show proper, do you realise the sheer sonic force of the musicians he has drafted in to recreate his studio noises becomes all too clear. the layered dance monsters are thrust out into the throbbing crowd and absorbed with total glee. the albums classics are given space to breathe, flex their muscles and generally instigate a dance fuelled riot. we get the full acid enhanced version of yeah yeah yeah, daft punk, tribulations (another chill up the spine moment of course!) and a ton of funk. i am completely in awe of the band. if i could bottle this moment, i could make my well deserved fortune. never would i have believed that a white suited mid-30's nyc'er could have ever built up such a massive live groove machine. tight rhythmic layers are added and added and added until the nerves are completely bombarded by forces of a punk-funk nature.
basically the lcd soundsystem made all the pain, mud, and heartache (hey, i was seriously missing my kids by this timE !) totally worthwhile.
they steal sunday night from the pyramid stages antics, but, having spent little time over by the main stage, i decide to finalise the festival by seeing if basement jaxx can hold their own in front of the pill munching throngs. personally, i think they are a poor replacement for the much missed pop princess. i could do with a little easy sing-a-long pop in my life right now, but kylie reckons that jaxx are worthy, so i bow to her opinion and see if i can appreciate their carnival-disco-rave anthems. i place myself on the brow of the hill, and watch people totally loose it to their hit filled back catalogue, but, as proven by lcd soundsystem there is more to creating a dance party than just laying down the tracks at an increased volume, the jaxx dont really make a lasting impression, its all very large-n-loud, brash-n-colourful, and even an event of sorts (drummer girls, monkey suits and suchlike) but the music is studio made and meant for small sweaty setups, not 70,000 open aired soundsystems and leaves me cold. only when the bands lead studio boffin pretends he is fronting a rock band in 'where's your head at', during which he stage dives into the crowd and makes a general nuisance of himself to the security staff, do i feel any kind of connection to the enjoyment the rest of the world are obviously providing.
so it came to a close with a nice polite message on the enormo screens that glastonbury will be back in 2007.
and now, for the first time, ever i can now say : "ireallylovemusic went to glastonbury".
oh, and it was indeed great. but then you know that now dont you ?
thank you.
mark e/ireallylovemusic