Leeds or Glasto, V or T?
Glastonbury might be the festival of the summer, but it certainly isn’t the only one. Some cheaper events have equally competitive line-ups, as Sam Noble discovers.
There is something decidedly English about music festivals, events which allow us simultaneously to celebrate the summer sunshine and indulge our whims for wellies and colourful headgear. Or, more likely, to drink obscene amounts whilst having the time of our lives.
At festivals, thousands of people gather to celebrate, well, just about anything: the music, the friends, the sunshine, the sex, the drinking and all of them combined (preferably at once). And if things like the weather, mud or incessant queuing get bad, we can rely on the Dunkirk spirit to rally us together and bring out the best in each other.
Most importantly, however, it’s about the music. The sheer volume of festivals held in Britain every year, many of which are internationally renowned, attests to the diversity and huge amount of music Brits both produce and enjoy: Glastonbury, Reading and Leeds, V Festival, T in the Park, Gatecrasher and Isle of Wight to name but a few. Not to mention the hundreds of smaller festivals offering a diverse range of music and atmosphere throughout the summer. Festival season is now a five-month season starting as early as March and ending reluctantly in September and, thanks to global warming, all the festivals should now come with the added feature of being enjoyed in unremitting sunshine.
It is a difficult decision choosing which festival to go to; the plethora of choice can be stifling, and I would love to recommend all of them. A friend and I did seriously consider attempting the feat of going to all of them but worked out that we’d be lumbered with a £10,000 debt before we’d even made it to the European festivals. So picking the right festival is key to making summer 2007 the best one yet.
Glastonbury June 22-24
I was 15 years old when I first went to a proper festival, diving straight into the deep end. Glastonbury. It is the behemoth, the Godfather, the holy grail of all festivals. To all those who think otherwise, I simply ask: have you ever been? I can say without hesitation that it is the best festival I have been to. As one of the festival organisers, Thomas Crimble, says: “I’ve experienced more in a few weeks at Glastonbury than some people have in the whole of their life.”
Festivals have the effect of catalysing hedonistic behaviour, and when I arrived at the tender age of 15, I was awe-struck at the scale of the festival. It overruns Somerset’s village of Pilton like a holy war crusade, with flags, tents and intrepid campers eagerly awaiting excitement and danger. So many groundbreaking performances have occurred here, making it the cultural highlight of the year. David Bowie, Johnny Cash, REM, Paul McCartney, The White Stripes, Radiohead and - ahem - Rolf Harris have all played seminal performances above the hallowed ley lines, giving Glastonbury a spiritual quality perfect for a musical mirabilis.
This year The Who, Arctic Monkeys, The Killers, Arcade Fire and Björk are set to stoke the fires of musical genius. However, considering all 150,000 tickets sold out in one hour and 45 minutes at £145 a ticket, you either already have a ticket and know the line-up, or else I’m just rubbing salt into the wounds of people who (like me) couldn’t get one. It really is that good.
Glastonbury holds a unique reputation by providing an event which disregards corporate cash yet maintains an excellent standard, overcoming all its security and council-related problems year after year, as well as raising awareness for the charities WaterAid, Greenpeace and Oxfam. Most of the great work has been done by head festival organiser and farmer Michael Eavis who, since 1971, has cultivated the best atmosphere one is likely to ever experience. Allowing the community of travellers and hippies to erect their wigwams and face-painting tents gives the festival the communal love-in vibe and spiritual aegis that makes Glastonbury such an enchanting place to be.
Reading and Leeds Carling Weekend August 24-26
I am in two minds about Reading and Leeds festival. While it consistently manages to get incredible rock acts - past alumni include Nirvana, Pixies, and Rage Against The Machine - the Carling Weekend embodies the bloated corporate mechanism which turns a perfect summer weekend into a high-priced showcase of indifferent but well-paid bands, and phone and beer slogans.
When I went to Reading, the sound quality of the PA was poor, the food prices were extortionate and the atmosphere was tense and negative. I’ve had a great time there and had an awful time there, all a part of the stoic collection of festival experiences I’ve accrued. I have been abused for walking away when Iron Maiden came on stage, a friend was beaten up for having emo hair, and another friend of mine was very nearly raped there. I suppose the Carling Weekend brings out the rock devil in all of us, allowing normally quiet teenagers and young adults who should know better to run riot in a shambling mess of drunkenness and sleep deprivation. I know I won’t make myself popular by slagging off Reading and Leeds, but to me it doesn’t embody what a festival is: a group of people celebrating together.
My lasting memory of Reading is of the Sunday when the last acts had finished and thousands of people proceeded to tear the campsite apart. It had apocalyptic overtones with the sky a hazy red from the burst of flames as tents, barbeques, chairs, dustbins and even ice-cream vans were all set alight. A group of shaggy, long-haired metallers who wouldn’t look amiss in the Jorvik centre careened from campsite to campsite, searching for an ‘emo’ to beat up - my friend wisely put on a hat. A guy even got one of his testicles torched off by the infamous ‘flame balls’.
Dismounting from my high horse, I concede that the line up this year does look fantastic with Red Hot Chili Peppers, Razorlight, The Smashing Pumpkins and - the greatest of them all - Biffy Clyro, taking to the stage.
Chelmsford and Staffordshire V Festival August 18-19
Dave Grohl said at Reading in 2005 that “Glastonbury is for the smelly hippies, Reading is for the dirty rockers and V Festival is for posh people.” I would take Glasto’s distinctive ‘60s odour over the soulless non-event that is V Festival any day. An irate festival-goer described V rather accurately: “No noise, stalls, campfires or general fun in the camping area. Full of utter posers… girls in four-inch heels in six inches of mud. Heavy-handed security that will confiscate liquids (alcoholic or not) that have been brought in from the campsite to the arena thus forcing you to spend £3 on a bottle of coke… Virgin of course. The most unhelpful, unenthusiastic staff. Please, please don’t waste your money on this ‘festival’.” I’ve never been to V for these reasons and, from what dissatisfied friends tell me, I shouldn’t bother.
I know I shouldn’t use column space to mouth off but V, Reading and some of the other big festivals seem to be just for promoters to wheel bands on and off as quickly as possible in order to make maximum profit in a quick, faceless weekend. The Mean Fiddler is, in fact, very mean. If you want to see the Radio One playlist live then Foo Fighters, Snow Patrol and The Kooks are just some of the bands unenthusiastically rocking in Chelmsford and Staffordshire. Festivals like T in the Park and Glastonbury seem to be the last bastion for atmosphere amongst the large major festivals. Of course, you can have a good time at these ‘festivals’, but a much better time can be had else where.
Off the beaten track
I couldn’t possibly mention all the big festivals occurring this summer, let alone the growing amount of smaller, indie festivals that are getting unusual - although no less fantastic - line-ups in beautiful locations all around the country. The Green Man festival, held in the Brecon Beacons, has former Led Zeppelin singer Robert Plant headlining as well as the incredible Joanna Newsom and a whole host of folk, country and dance acts. All Tomorrow’s Parties vs the Fans is an innovative festival held in a Butlins Holiday resort in Minehead in May. Nowhere else can you enjoy such a pleasing list of bands such as Mogwai, Explosions In The Sky, Do Make Say Think, Patti Smith and Modest Mouse with the added comfort of your own chalet. A personal favourite of mine is the newly established End Of The Road festival, held in plush botanical gardens in Dorset in September. Super Furry Animals, Seasick Steve and Howe Gelb are already confirmed, with loads of acts to be announced. For a cheap, small-scale festival with a great atmosphere, it is the best place to go before returning to uni.
There are a whole host of festivals abroad which have established great reputations and excellent line-ups, partly because they are the only major rock festival in their country, and are essentials for bands on the festival circuit. Take, for example, Festival Internacional de Benicassim at the end of July. Not only is it cheaper and longer than most British festivals (£107 for four days!), it plays host to Muse, Arctic Monkeys, The Stooges, Bright Eyes and The B-52’s. Love Shack in Spain anyone? Cheap flights mean that if you book early you can make Exit festival in Serbia, Roskilde in Denmark or Wacken in Germany (only for the serious metaller). South By South West, Coachella (Rage Against The Machine have reformed for a one-and-only performance here) or Bonaroo in the States are serious festival considerations. The list is fruitful, nearly endless and littered with fantastic artists.
It isn’t difficult to see why festivals are so bloody brilliant. What with the combination of friends, drink, good weather, great music and thousands of like-minded neighbours bringing out the best in everyone, it will always be a recipe for success; providing beer companies and the Mean Fiddler don’t stick their unwanted oars in too much. So whatever your musical inclinations, if musically inclined at all, there are a whole host of festivals to tickle your fancy this summer. Inevitably, the cost of most festivals is going to put many people off. However, there are great opportunities to work with Oxfam, stewarding or working in beer tents, which are surprisingly easy jobs to get - and come with the added bonus of a free festival. Visit www.oxfam.org.uk for stewarding opportunities and vacancies.
It is also worth checking the exhaustingly detailed www.efestivals.com to find out prices, dates, line-ups, news, directions and everything else festival-orientated. Have a fantastic, enriching and safe summer and remember: always wear sunscreen.
Festival etiquette: what you should expect
With becoming a hardened festival-goer, you might observe certain behaviour and characteristics which come with your wristband.
The first is an increased alcohol intake and lack of sleep, as more alcohol requires more hours in the day to drink it in, obviously.
When shouting “bollocks” won’t do, you may also notice the previous year’s pop culture referenced in one short, concise and shoutable phrase; for example, “Do do do do do” (you remember that Japanese rockabilly girl group in Kill Bill, right?), “Gay Bar”, “Hi I’m Ed Winchester”, “Devo Mate” and many others. When you ask all your friends around the dinner table this evening, you will realise you were all at that festival that year and saw that band play x, y and z and so forth.
The next, with which I am thankfully blessed, is constipation. Festival toilets are disgusting and there is no readily-available alternative to the constantly in-use shacks above a mound of tissue, piss and shit. And if it is a hot, sticky day and the wind is right… well I’ll stop now, shall I? I’m retching from the memories. It is all part of the festival experience, but one my body doesn’t allow me to partake in. Neither will I ever wear a stupid hat; as much as I find it utterly hilarious, I do not see it to be such a necessity as half of a campsite does.
I always maintain that a festival should be a place where you try something you never have before. I have eaten ostrich burgers, not washed for a week (for anyone who knows what Pilton Smeg is, I got it) and my proudest achievement was sneaking backstage at End Of The Road festival. Traipsing through a few bushes, I allayed the security guards’ fears by merely saying, like a groupie: “I’m with the band.” From then on I watched Brakes, British Sea Power and Badly Drawn Boy from the comfort of the side of the stage. I must admit that I was very, very drunk at the time.
