V Festival 2004 - The V diaries
by Joe McTiernan
Armed with press pass, A Big Grin TM :0), a trusty little digital number and a camera bag of expectation…
Saturday: Day 1
It is sometimes nice to share your expectations: How would Massive Attack be after an album that had received a luke-warm (at best) reception? Would the re-born Pixies steal the show? How much more have The Strokes to offer us than they have already shown?
And most importantly, would it piss it down with rain?
There is something about all festivals, which gets my juices flowing. Whether it be the relaxed Glastonbury afternoons followed by the bopping all night, or the pent-up pressure of a rocking Reading, they always have something which proves to be a highlight. If you are lucky, the highlights are in double figures…
There are only one or two things that can really spoil it – a good four-day drenching (Glastonbury ’97 and ’98 – I was one of the drowned rats) or a poo-pipe being turned on to push instead of pull in a crowded dance tent… (Again Glastonbury)
MMMmmm nice.
So the first taste was Pink.
Interesting lady, interesting clothes and her voice is not as bad live as I had heard. Not interesting enough to make me stick around for more than 10 minutes though.
Within minutes of joining the festival throng I was wrapped up in the exercise of counting t-shirts featuring monkeys (a very personal thing), which soon became an exercise in monkeys vs. playboy bunnies. Unfortunately, over the weekend the playboy bunnies kicked the monkey's asses. Now there’s a statement I never thought I would post on a website.
Anyway, back to the music…
I just catch the end of The Killers set, which I am seething about…. Traffic in Essex!!!
From the reaction of the crowd they went down a storm, but this is no consolation. Buy the album, “Hot Fuss” (blatant plug – If Branson can do it everywhere, so can I!)
Back to business.
“Come on Mother F******”.
This is about as coherent and simple as it gets and it is the voice of the All American Rejects. Whilst going off the scale on the use of the word F*** which made Jamie Cullum look like Mother Theresa (come to think of it, you never see them in the same room…), the All American Rejects are OK. Their promise to “rock you whether you like it or not” does not quite come off but it is a brave attempt. They have a charismatic front man with tourettes. If musical ability were measured in cursing the likes of U2, the Chili Peppers and Radiohead would be looking over their shoulders. But it isn’t and those elite groups are not either. The band play enough catchy Rock-lite to get many in the crowd going, which is about enough for a 30 minute slot. Quick tip though. If you have the entire catalogue of Blink 182, or the theme tune to Malcolm in the middle, do not bother…
I leave the Rejects before the end to catch the catchy soul melodies of the delicious Jamelia. Whilst i was not enamoured with many of her tunes, her live vocal performance is excellent and she is absolutely thrilled by the crowd response underneath the JJB Arena tarpaulin. She even has the confidence to play the odd tune from her first album released in ’99, which receive polite applause.
When the bigger hits such as “Superstar” and particularly “See it in a boy’s eyes”, open up the tent goes wild (as wild as it can anyway, see later the Audio Bullys!), and this is one boy who certainly hopes she can see it in my eyes… that is one short skirt / belt…
It is back to the NME stage for the Dashboard Confessional, which is actually an unexpected treat. A contrast to the brashness of the American Rejects, (and an increase on the standard of the Rejects’ tunes) the ‘Confessional play rock with a distinct lack of confidence on some occasions, as if it is difficult to believe the tunes are good. Whilst not to everyone’s liking perhaps and a little sombre on occasion, I want to hear more. Having arrived half way through their set, the end comes to soon as it so often does, and the polite front-man Chris Carrabba thanks the crowd “for giving them a chance” which is a nice touch.
The crowd at this stage is small but suddenly doubles and even trebles in size as they leave the stage. An early appearance for one of the most eagerly awaited acts, Keane enter the V festival on a major high and surely both the Faithless and Charlatans gigs suffer from depleted crowds as a result.
Keane do not disappoint. As a front man Tom Chaplin is as unassuming as a 12-year-old public schoolboy who has grown his hair for the first time. In fact there is nothing on paper which would attract so many to see a band whose low tempo tunes and lack of guitar-led tracks defies belief for the following that they have… perhaps a reason for the success – they are indeed a little different to the conventional.
In the sunshine at V the strains of “Everybody’s Changing” uplift the crowd without carrying them away. The sun then promptly pops back behind a cloud and it seems the Gods have been angered by Keane’s lack of urgency. I am impressed by the strength of Chaplin’s voice, which often sounds so delicate on record but really holds up in front of a huge gathering. Although the between-songs banter is poor, the crowd do not mind – they are here for the songs, and the hit of the day is “Somewhere only we know” - a belter! As the crowd sings along to the line “this could be the end of everything” there is a real festival moment, one of too few over the weekend…
The set finishes with recent single “Bedshaped” and the crowd slope away, satiated for now.
Which is a shame for Elbow, who deserve more. Having recently seen Elbow live at Brixton, I do not hang around for long, but five minutes longer than I had planned to, as they are such a great band. Mr. Garvey is a beardy star. The UK needs more beardy stars, and the campaign to promote beards starts here…
About as controversial as a prostitute in a brothel – that is Dido for you. More popular with the ladies then the chaps, at the start of the Dido set you can walk right up to the barrier at the front, which I casually do, and low key is not the word. There is however a massive queue at the bar and the hot dog stalls as the blokes take the opportunity given to them.
Raising the white flag to Dido…
It is, even some of her most vehement fans would admit, a little bland. If you are sitting there with your loved one, holding hands then maybe it is a bit different. I would hate to speculate on how many couples split up every year due to Dido’s whining. I have, I would add, two Dido albums for my sins. Seeing the act live however is too much for me and I wander off to catch some of Kelis and meet my friend Jamie Bodkino.
It livens up (a little) as I leave the Dido gig, which looks a little like a modern day Greenham Common, but for some fans it is just too much excitement. Having avoided the facilities all day, I duly go to a mobile toilet within listening distance to Dido’s power ballads. I would like to thank Dido personally one day for that experience…
Having met Jamie, who is a little under the weather from the previous night’s escapades (and whose girlfriend is in a tent recuperating), we catch Kelis. Well we queue. And we queue.
And then we leave. Wandering between stages there is nothing further that catches our attention, and Jamie eventually wanders off by himself to discover the land of nod for the first time in 48 hours. Before he leaves however, he regales me with my favourite story of this year’s festival.
Earlier that day, in the queue for the cash point, Jamie was in the queue for an hour and a quarter. Just six places from the front, the machine runs out of money.
Jamie watches as a guy from the hat stall next door sneaks around the back of the Cash-point machine with a megaphone, as some people continue to queue unawares.
Pretending to be the voice of the machine, the prankster imitates a teller as well as he can, and shouts,
“The cash point is empty. I repeat. There is no more money. P*ss off.”
As fifteen people jump in the air.
Maybe funnier at the time.
They Want beats they want dance, they want… Basement Jaxx as it happens. I did not stick around for long on this one, as I am a big fan, but cross the (littered) wastelands to catch the incredible light show and visual display that accompanies the tremendous live performance of the Muse. I decided that the bands I have seen before sometimes and have enjoyed could perhaps be sacrificed for the sake of amateur journalism! As a spectacular there is none better across the weekend, and as a headliner they do not disappoint.
The light show is special, and Muse are incredibly theatrical with their performance.
Who was hot and who was not on saturday…
- Wunderbar!
Keane,
The Killers
Muse
Elbow
The guy painted blue with the word “Peter” scrawled across his chest
-Wonderwoman
Dashboard Confessional (?)
Dido
Jamelia
-Wander away after quarter of an hour
Pink
Kelis (after listening from outside of the tent)
Charlatans
Basement Jaxx (queue! Queue! Queue!)
Sunday: Day 2
On arrival I assist photographer Tina with her camera bag through the turnstiles and am promptly ushered to the side next to a barking police dog and searched for controlled substances. The security here is as strict as I have ever seen at a festival. Despite this I later see texts printed on the V stage, which defiantly proclaim, “The Police did not get all of the weed".
It turns out the reason the police dog was so interested in the bag is that Tina the photographer has six dogs; enough scent to arouse the suitably alert snout of the Dog Squad. The moral of the “tail”: don’t get caught smelling of someone else’s puppies.
After being patted down by my new best friend Chief Inspector Frisky (after what he did we are practically family) we enter a little late (having missed Kasabian).
The day however is a good one, and over the next 11 hours or so I get to sample a range of acts (I counted 21 in total).
I also get to hear that at Kelis the night before one of the reasons we queued so long was due to a disturbance inside which meant the performance was delayed and all photographers (including our Tina) were removed.
I watch Jamie Cullum as someone who has never bought his album. In fact, I watch Jamie Cullum as someone who will never buy his album. This album, or the next. It’s not that he does not have talent, he does. It’s not that he is seriously uncool, on paper he qualifies. And he has spiky hair.
The thing is (and I’ve struggled with the thing, it just would not come to me). It’s just that he tries too hard to be everything to everybody.
And also, just because he is not on Parkinson he decides he must use the F*** word at every opportunity. Most of us (not the lead singer of the American Rejects) discovered the F*** word a long time ago, but to Mr. Cullum, using the profanity seems like the newly discovered continent of Atlantis rising from the sea. And it is like hearing your teacher swear. It just isn’t cool.
Cullum does manage crowd participation, and the guy tries hard and is not short on confidence. Playing reggae with jazz, indie, soul, and then introducing his band by name like a modern day Martin or Sinatra, he is a very clever boy.
Undoubtedly he has talent, but he is in too much of a hurry to be everyone’s mate, like some kind of musical Jamie Oliver, or (not just similar in stature) the Michael J. Fox of the noughties. Unfortunately for Mr. Cullum, Mr. Fox had the loveable quality, which is lacking in the pint-sized jazzster. Or is it Indie kid playing accessible jazz… in the end I fear too few people will care.
Not that he has not got balls (to use a double negative!). Turning Radiohead anthem “High and Dry” into “Singing in the rain” and then back again takes a lot of “balls”, and to some this would endear him to them. Of course there are some who would call this into question and want to ram a large stick up one of his nostrils for attempting such blasphemy. Me? I sit on the fence…
As he left the stage, Cullum shouted “see you at Roni Size". There were a few people with Roni Size T-shirts on looking for sticks at this point…
Snow Patrol on this early in the day seems madness. They draw a massive crowd and turn in the second best performance of the day behind the Godlike Pixies / The Strokes (joint).
Gary Lightbody looks amazed at the crowd: which gets even larger as he watches and attracts all of the stragglers / passers-by.
When the strains of “Light up, light up…” waft across the V stage, lighters and hands are raised aloft and another festival moment is created.
Some fella uses all of the wit in his tiny brain to sing the ‘whose the twat in the woolly hat’ song to his amused mates, who are suitably entertained just as Mr. Badly Drawn Boy enters stage right on the V stage, with the demeanour of the Victor Meldrew of pop, wearing the obligatory tea cosy. Though he tries hard and the songs are generally good, Essex is not having it. BDB has a constant aim in life and on stage; to be different to the conventional pop star, and on certain occasions it can backfire.
There is a point when the bearded one seems on the brink of losing the crowd completely and one cry of “Barabbas” would have lead to a quick stoning followed by a summary crucifixion to add to the afternoon entertainment. (I should be shot for comparing BDB to JC, but it amused me)
It does not help that as soon as Mr. Boy comes on, the skies darken, and as if to portent some doom from a Victorian novel, Mr. Boy decides to play some of his slowest numbers.
By the end of the gig Damon Gough has reclaimed the crowd, (what is left of it) but has made tremendously hard work of it.
The Thrills – like the five ages of Daniel Day Lewis but with the chilled out West Coast American harmonies… except the lead singer of the Thrills (let’s just call him Daniel 1) has grown a big beard to make him stand out this time.
“One two three…” and they are off. The vocal sound on some of the songs is remarkably like Rod Stewart in some ways (mainly positive ways I hasten to add).
They are far more polished than even six months earlier, when I had seen them in Brighton’s Concorde supported by The Sleepy Jackson. On that occasion the Sleepy had outshone their more famous counterparts. This time there were no mistakes. They give the crowd what they want. The Thrills were on top form and took the crowd with them with the hits from the first album getting them going early on and the more recent stuff, including the recent single “Whatever happened to Corey Haim”. Having lost a touch of their raw side the band look far happier on the stage, and less likely to do a runner if there is one negative remark thrust in their direction… they were also lucky that after Badly Drawn Boy, the crowd were crying out for a lift, and as if by cue, as they took the stage the sun came out from behind the big badly cloud.
They also point out that The Concretes act later will be massive. I make a note of this and then completely forget about it until it is too late.
I catch The Zutons set briefly – very much in the Coral and La’s areas. Perhaps I could have given them more of a chance but there was so much to see!
The Scissor Sisters were the entertainers of the festival. For fashion, outrageousness, chat and dancing. For between song and during song banter, there were none better. My only complaint was that they should have been on later and on the main stage to accommodate the throngs of people there to see them… the crush and the poor view eventually drove me onto other experiences…
And the dancing was interesting…
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club were dull in stark contrast. They were given an opportunity to impress by a sympathetic crowd and they blew it.
Infidel were a heavy interlude in a weekend of dance, indie, softer rock and easier listening, and certainly worth the twenty minutes I spent over there. There were few there to see them play though.
Audio Bully’s were my dance tent act of the weekend by a mile. As someone less familiar with their music, they created an energy level in the dance tent which I certainly did not see for the rest of the weekend… and they are the only band / act in my schedule to have their latest album in my collection immediately after the weekend (thanks to a late night service station!).
I catch the end of N*E*R*D and wish I had heard more. A mixture of hip-hop, rock, and a Queen cover, all in the space of two short songs. You cannot help but be intrigued…
The Pixies I find hard to review as I am biased. I really enjoyed their set as I have waited a long time to see them live and never thought it might happen.
This Monkey’s gone too heaven… when the crowd sing along to this, my monkey obsessed weekend is complete with the best monkey referencing song ever.
In fact if you saw a balding Brummie jumping up and down during the Pixies set, shouting at the top of his voice about monkeys and dropping a note pad on the floor, then you were next to me.
I sandwich a short period away from the two main stages to catch my discovery of the weekend with The Stands set. As entertaining as the drummer’s Va Va Voom “animal from the Muppets” 2-minute drum solo was it was the manner of their music, which caught my ear. They were assured and promise more in the future.
Massive Attack began their set as I journey back to see The Strokes. There does not seem to be a lot to go on so I get back for the start of The Strokes, and try and get as close to the stage as possible. Which turns out to be about three miles away.
The Strokes duly erupt after the Pixies’ performance, and despite the lack of monkey references in their music, they complete the weekend in a loud, rollicking yet (according to those who have seen them on occasions before) standard manner. The Strokes are very consistent, despite the levels of alcohol consumed, Julian could hardly stand up.
“Last Night” goes down a storm, and then it is time for me to go – avoid car park chaos and get to work (dreary-eyed) the next day.
The last evening became an unbiased appreciation of the acts before me… undoubtedly the best section of the weekend.
Best shout in the hospitality area:
(To a guy who looked like Richey Manic, in a genuine Welsh accent)
“I found your trainers on the Severn bridge!”
And
(Random, from a balding guy who looks nothing like the Genesis drummer)
“Ladies and Gentlemen, would you like your picture with Phil Collins?”
- Wunderbar!
Snow Patrol
The Strokes
The Pixies
The Thrills
-Wonder woman
Scissor Sisters and friends
-Wander away after quarter of an hour
The Zutons
Black Rebels
- One hit wonders
Goldie Looking wappers.
-No hit wonders
The Infidels (but hope exists!)
-Wonder they got this far:
Mull Historica……..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Favourite non- monkey T –shirt:
“You are here”
And a quick plug for shocktees.com, the t-shirt stall at festivals that always deliver some great new humorous slogan tees…
Simple yet effective!
In conclusion – some great bands at V this year. V is unfortunate that before it there is Glastonbury, T in the Park and virtually all of the other festivals. Immediately after are Leeds and Reading, which although no better on paper, eclipse it every year. V is perhaps a little too commercial (you could literally just find your way around by quoting the brands away you) and could do with a little injection of soul.
And whatever it is they do to non V mobiles – give us a break – it is incredibly annoying to block out all of the competition. And ultimately friends do not meet up and have such a good time because of it…
And for God’s sake, let them have campfires and keep your hoses to yourself (Mrs.!). It felt like the teachers were back, confiscating the cigarettes behind the bike sheds.
Gripe over.
When all is said and done though, a great and highly-recommended experience, which needs more of you guys there next year to inject a little more soul and show them how to rock and dance.
Thanks to Tina and co for being great sports and putting me up overnight… no camping without fires for me!
Joe McTiernan
Photos by Tina Mcclelland
many thanks to Ruth at Cake Media
