Me again. Yes, I know. Not much and then two posts in relatively short succession. I guess I'm unpredictable that way.
I write with regards to the "lovely" Field Day festival. This year marked my first trip to the festival and my first festival in a long time. Perhaps that was a mistake - make my long awaited foray into festivals with one so incredibly cool when I've become progressively uncool. What do you bring to a festival in Hackney brimming with those too cool for school?!? What do you wear?!? I entertained the notion of buying some skinny jeans (or leggings in Aztec print?) and wearing my glasses (with a fake beard?) to blend in and then realised that was one of my more asinine ideas. I settled for something that would keep me warm, dry, wouldn't give me a camel toe and be able to see in the rain. Sensible.
So, dressed in normal jeans, vest, scarf and sweater I made the long journey from SW to E London by train and tube. From Mile End I followed the trail of hipsters to Victoria Park. Did they think I was lost on my way to Sainsbury's or did they know that I too was excited at the prospect of a day brimming with good music?!? I kind of felt like I'd gone undercover like Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed (a somewhat underrated movie IMHO). So far so good but then I saw the queues. Everyone was terribly polite and good spirited about it, but it did seem a bit excessive and undermanned. Also, why bother confiscating apples?!? Was there someone inside selling apples at £2 a pop?!? Ahem.. You see? I am getting old and grumpy.
Once inside, however, I felt like a kid in a candy shop. Literally. A wide array of food stalls (Japanese? Mexican? Portuguese? Creole?) and tents to suit all tastes. I had a strict timetable of bands I was keen to see, but there were enough gaps to walk around between shows to take in the atmosphere. It didn't take long before I had assured myself that coming along that day was a very good idea indeed.
High points of the day:
- Django Django who were better than I expected and a real delight.
- Afrocubism who might have spent ages setting up, but were worth the wait for the horns alone. Definitely the highlight of the day.
- Chicken katsu curry. Yummmm...
- The Men who were testosterone personified. Much as I love a bit of jingle jangle guitar it is nice to properly rock out occasionally.
- The gentleman in the toilet queue who let a very desperate lady go ahead of him. I commented on his gentlemanliness and did my best to distract him from his own desperation.
- Rich at the Beirut show who shared a non-flaying (see below) dance with me.
- Austra who entertained me while I queued for a hot cup of tea in the cold rain.
- Changing in to warm PJs and fuzzy socks when I eventually got home.
- £5 for a festival map/guide!?!?
- Being crushed and shoved at the Grimes show. Who knew that Grimes fans would be as fanatical as those of Justin Beiber. I felt very old and curmudgeonly. My efforts to keep upright distracted me from the music, but she was impressive and terribly cute. Were she and Justin separated at birth?!?
- Elbowed in the breast by some knob at the Beirut show. Who would have thought that beautiful gentle music would inspire clumsy and inconsiderate dance?! A lot of hipsters got in on the swaying and flaying and I was not the only one unimpressed. The people behind me commented, loudly, that they hoped "they would break their fake glasses". I also note that the Guardian reviewer felt much the same.
- The rain. Although I was prepared with a rain mac it meant that all under-tent performances were oversubscribed by the end of the night. I tried to listen to the lovely Mazzy Star but as I was surrounded by people chatting/keeping dry it was a bit of a lost cause.
- Shivering the whole way home. Sweater wasn't that warm and jeans were VERY wet.
Verdict? A good day out. There is something special about festivals where everyone is there for a common cause - a love of music. Perhaps that's why it's upsetting when your enjoyment is spoiled by others for whom the music is secondary (tertiary? less?). In an ideal world festivals would be run by people following the ethos of the old Luminaire in Kilburn who had their own gig version of the Kermode and Mayo Moviegoers Code of Conduct. Of course, I can imagine that only 5 people would turn up at such a festival and I would have been denied the little dance to Beirut. I guess you take the rough with the smooth. The sweet with the sour.
Until next time!
x
