The title has nothing to do with my pending end but the festival Kate and I went to over the weekend. We had a very wonderful if exhausting time, and 3 nights in a small tent has done wonders for my joints. We went for the early acts on Thursday night; bit of a curate’s egg for me with the main band being one of the current plethora of swirly, jangly, reverberating guitar bands and listening to them I found myself diving slowly into a pool of soma, boredom becomes the over-riding emotion and I understand again why punk happened.
Stayed up late with Sal, Mike and their lovely friend Keith, who introduces me to the tastual pleasure of cake and blue cheese. Later, having drunk a little too much red wine I am unable to take off my sodden socks when I’m in my sleeping bag and my frozen feet and cacophonous snores prevent immediate sleep. I’m awoken in a hot tent with steaming feet and snoring of a different timbre. I’m on my own, Kate having returned home to take her daughter Ruby to another festival, so after coffee and qi gong I go in search of my chums; despite my best efforts to get them to come out and play they ignore me, I go off and play on my own, something I’ve always been able to do.
The first morning of a festival on a hot, sunny day is alive with the buzz of expectancy. After getting my first craft ale of the day I wander into the big top to check out JC Satan who blow me away with their tearing urgency, they’re great and the perfect antidote to last night’s somatic plunge: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nG7OaWhTHQI
I watch them all the way through then spend the next few hours awandering and alistening to a wide range of musical styles and artistes until it’s time to meet Kate. We hook up with Sal, Mike and Keith and listen to a band even more boring than the previous night’s ponderous plungers, they’re called Real Estate, a most apposite name. Mac deMarco is up next, bit of a curate’s egg and the long pauses between songs and the frequent ostentatious swigging from a bottle of booze by various band members are tedious but the boy has potential.
The next morning is a reprise for me, this time with Kate as we wander into the big tent for the first act of the day, Pixx. They’re “fucking amazing” as one punter shouts out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNvYqFpxNqI
The rest of the day we wander, stopping now and then to experience a wide range of wonderful music and even some comedy.
Eventually we take up position for the festival’s headliners Father John Misty, after the disappointment of the previous 2 nights headliners I’m ever so slightly apprehensive, but from the first note and blast of back lights we’re all blown away by the most sublime performance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNwDxl4diyI
Despite aching joints, impending physical breakdown and mental meltdown we drag ourselves to the Tipi tent for the late night ‘surprise’ shows and I’m very pleasantly surprised by an extremely raucous and intriguing show by Starcrawler: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxLvMDjH_0M
I’m awoken differently next day by the beat of rain on canvas, we’re both absolutely shattered and just have enough energy to pack up and drive home despite a full day of music unlistened to. But memory boxes are topped up with magical sounds and images.
Keep on keeping on, love Duncan.