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Ah, Marijne... between her and Cokesy, they totally made MTV for me when I was dolescum. For different reasons, obviously.
Peter Purves Cargo Cult- was that that "Quiet Club" thing? That was cool- I was utterly baked when I went in there and it took me about twenty minutes to realise the patterns on the walls were actually changing.
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was fun, took acid for the first time, which was immense. Friend had stream through tent, we however survived with waterside features. Incredible! Im going to turn into one of those sutpid ***** who winges on about how good the atmosphere is, and it was
quote:Originally posted by ben: Good skills Hippy - keep it up.
I know what you mean about the White Stripes: saw them last year at Leeds and their stripped-down schtick just gets lost on a big stage.
Watched some of their set on the telly and said, "I bet this would be excellent in a tiny weeny club." Hopefully they will read this thread and get the message.
Every year, the TV coverage of Glastonbury portrays the festival as more and more bland and "Middle Class". No one appeared to stand out as genuinely Rock'n'Roll this year. I know I wasn't there and am only going by the bits I saw on TV, but it looked like a giant mush of dullness.
The fact that Ye Olde 80s bands like Echo & The Bunnymen and New Order sounded exactly like the Kaiser Chiefs and... you know, all of them, was just too depressing. If anything it looked like the old bands had something of an edge, both in their sound and by having actual characters that had actually been around a bit.
I'm sure there was some great stuff going on away from the headline acts, but the telly broadcast could have been repeats from ten years ago and I doubt anyone would have noticed. There's a Glastonbury template generic band type now. Indie anthem bands, jeans and suit jackets, make the crowd sing at least half of every song, make the emotional "Bono at Live Aid" walk over to mingle with the crowd, shout, "MUDWeatherFUCKItRainYeeeeaah!" a couple of times.
Dunno about no one else, but I'm starting to crave something fresh. Hopefully a load of bored 15-year-olds watching Glastonbury on the telly this year will have been thinking the same thing, and their rage will be brewing right now as we speak.
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quote:Originally posted by H1ppychick: I've glossed over my comedy bout of diarrhoea, by the way.
Is that why you didn't tell us about Sunday?
Thanks. Seems like it all went OK with your shit friends. It's always good to read festival reports. Although if you had adopted my go by yourself approach you could have danced your ass off to Fatboy Slim instead of enduring the recycle bin of blues guitar. Not that I like Fatboy Slim, but, y'know. Thanks, man.
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quote:Originally posted by H1ppychick: Hopped over the the Acoustic set to catch the second half of Martha Wainwright, which I enjoyed although as we arrived she was wailing"got no children, got no husband" which I think inclined my male friends against her.
I can kind of understand that. I once heard some whinging bitch sing I need a man to replace my mother.
That put me right off, I can tell you.
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H1ppychick
We all prisoners, chickee-baby. We all locked in.
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Thanks for the concern, statist, but the diarrhoea was behind me (ahem) by the time that Sunday came around. Speaking of which...
Sunday Woke up early on Sunday, refreshed and feeling that the day ahead would be a good one. Opened tent to be confronted with a cloudless blue sky and the promise of a lovely sunny day.
Roused my comrades and tempted them from their dens with the lure of breakfast. Mad Cornish Richard decided he fancied a bowl of cornflakes so we traipsed all around the market place until we tracked down the one vendor providing such. I decided on a cheese and onion pasty from the next-door booth. I know which one of us had more energy later on, is all I'm saying. Strange Welsh Richard decided in favour of doughnuts.
Meandered down to Jazzworld in the sunshine just in time to catch the end of The Jaipur Kawa Brass Band. Bumped into my friend Judge of the bhangra band who had, I think, not yet been to bed. Settled on the grass to read the Q Daily paper and wait for the next band, the most excellent Ska Cubano - think Buena Vista Social Club meets Madness and you're about there. The most infectious band I saw all weekend in terms of bonkers crowd reaction and sheer joie de vivre.
As we were nearly there anyway we decided to make our annual pilgrimage to the Green Fields, stopping at Avalon to listen to Seize The Day, and hence gain our "right-on" credentials for the weekend. Peace, man.
Returned via marketplace and falafels to the Pyramid stage to listen to Jools Holland. Strange Welsh Richard decided to bail from the festival at this point, having agreed to be back home by 6pm. This left myself and Mad Cornish Richard to do our own thing.
On from Jools and time for a complete change of pace and style: The Dresden Dolls in the John Peel. Interesting punk piano/cabaret music with a very charismatic front woman. Will consider a purchase.
Returned to tent to lie on airbed outside (the inside having turned into a sauna in the blazing sunshine) for half an hour, before packing up all my associated stuff and bunging it into Mad Cornish Richard's tent till later.
Mad Cornish Richard having run off earlier to watch The Kills, whom he later said were "disappointing", I finished packing in time to catch the second half of Brian Wilson's set. This sounded superb floating over the campsite whilst I was packing up and wasn't a disappointment when I got closer in.
Stayed at the main stage for Garbage. Sat about 50 feet behind the sound stage and watched on screen, since the front of the field looked very busy. Shirley Manson worked extremely hard to try and build some crowd atmosphere and I couldn't work out why till I met up with MCR after the set and he told me that he had been at the front which was relatively empty and had little participation.
MCR and I decided against the main stages for the remainder of the evening and decided on the Acoustic stage as our parting shot. Arrived in plenty of time for Tori Amos, who performed completely solo and simultaneously on both organ and piano (total madskillz) and who was in superb voice. Just a shame I couldn't understand what she was singing most of the time.
And on to the finale: The Beautiful South. I must be getting old to prefer this as a wind-down from the festival to either Basement Jaxx or Ian Brown. In any event, it was a great ending to the weekend: huge levels of crowd singalong, excellent performances all round (with the exception of the male-singer-who's-not-Paul-I-think-he's-called-Dave, who wasn't really in great voice). Totally lovely.
After close of business, got back to MCR's tent, which he packed by moonlight; then spent what seemed like years walking back out to the overflow car park that they had flung the panicking punters into on Friday morning when the main car parks were in shutdown. Got home at 3am after avoiding a couple of car crashes on the motorway presumably caused by tired/emotional festival goers, got into the bath (in which I fell asleep) and finally to bed at about 4am.
Roll on two thousand and, er, seven.
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Well H1ppy, you did far better than me. It wasn't a particularly strong line up IMO and so I didn't really see that much.
Wednesday Drove from Norwich at 6am, stopped off for a nap while the M25 had rush hour and then again in Bristol for food and drink purchasing. Arrived on site at about 2pm and had camp set up by 6. Everyone had arrived by about 10pm and so just sat around a big fire.
Thursday Others went walking round the site but as it was scorching hot I decided to sit under the gazebo and drink heavily. In the evening we went for a party at a friend's motorhome overlooking the site and then on to the market areas. We danced somewhere - I have pictures but I've no idea where it was.
Friday I had seen the storm coming in the early hours so I had taken some precautions but nothing prepared us for Friday morning. Woke up at about 10am to find about 2 inches of water throughout our tent (allthough luckily the bedroom sections of the tent are plastic to about 6 inches from the floor). Some damage limitation for an hour or so and a trip to the car for brollies, wellies and coats meant we only got to see The Zutons in the afternoon. After some food it was off to Royksop and Fat Boy Slim both of which did fantastic sets. Then we had a wander round the dance village and a quick bop in the glade before more drinking round the fire at our camp.
Saturday Over indulgence in a few naughty things on Friday night, well Saturday morning really, meant I didn't rise until 4pm. Gutted. Missed GLC, Kaiser Chiefs and Ash. All of which I really wanted to see (I also missed Ash in 2002 by my own stupidity). So heard Athlete from my tent and went and saw Hayseed Dixie on the Avalon stage. Next it was New Order on the Pyramid stage with Keith Allen joining them to do that football song they did. Then over to the East-Side Dance tent for Darren Emmerson who was ok but not as good as I was expecting/had been told. Watched the last 30 mins of HG2G and ended the night watching the sun rise over the stone circle field.
Sunday Due to friends faffing about (this was starting to get annoying as they had been doing this all weekend) we got to the Jazz World stage in time to see the roadies changing the set after Ska Cubano had been on ( ) so just traipsed back to the Other stage to see Cake. Cake were a bit of a let down as they didn't do The Distance or I will survive. Then we met some other friends from Norwich who were getting married in the chapel in the Lost Vagueness field but found they had chickened out when we got there. A wander through the Circus/Cabaret/Theatre fields took us to the back of the Pyramid arena for most of Brian Wilson's set - Was someone surfing on the crowd at the front? Then we went for food and were back in time to see the last couple of songs by Garbage and found a good space for Primal Scream. That Bobby Gillespie - WTF? I had heard he was a bit out of it but that takes the biscuit. Oh how we laughed when they pulled the plug on them. I hear Jo Wiley interviewed him live on BBC3 and asked him if he was looking forward to Basement Jaxx, to which he replied with language to make a sailor blush, all at 7 in the evening. Good thinking Jo. Basement Jaxx finished off the festival for us and they put on a great show, culminating in a crowd pleasing rendition of Where's your head at?.
Monday Watched lots of people rush about to 'beat the traffic' while we sat around drinking tea and eating chocolate. Packed everything up by 5pm, in the car by 6.30 and on the open road at 8pm. I had wanted to get home in one go but as the vehicle we borrowed was not as fast as I'd hoped I had to make a stop to kip for a couple of hours in Cambridgeshire otherwise I would have fallen asleep at the wheel. Back home at 5am and in bed until 4pm. I'm still knackered and my sleep is all out of sync. I'm getting to old for this I think, good job I have the rest of the week off work.
I should have some pictures online tomorrow afternoon, I'll post a link for you to clicky-clicky.
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THURSDAY Arrived just after lunchtime to find that Bailey and co had already pitched our tent, gazeebo etc. Was too hot to sit in the sun, so chilled out on a camper chair in the gazeebo sucking on a couple of beers. Went for a wander around, booked a massage for saturday morning, bought some mushrooms, sucked on a balloon of laughing gas (a bit disappointing), then headed back to the campsite to sit out in the sun for a bit. By late afternoon we decided to name as many ginger people as possible - and reached an amazing 101 (bailey - do you still have the list?). We then decided that it was time to ingest mushrooms.
Started off totally cool. There were giggles, there were tears of laughter. There was a beautiful sunset (I think) there were beautiful eyes in the grass that kept winking at me benevolently. Everything was cool. Everyone was happy. And then it all went a bit Salvador Dali on me...
I started to spiral into the mushroom equivalent of a K-hole. Head in hands. Laboured breathing. Hot. Sweaty. Judging from the looks I was getting, I didn't look good. or was I just being paranoid? is it possible to be paranoid about being paranoid? I was. I then proceeded to totally harsh Bailey's spiritual high and so banished myself from our little communal gazeebo gathering, to melt like hot marshmallow into the comforting cucoon of my sleeping bag and air matress. But alas, all was not well in the swirling Sodom and Gamorrah of my mind. Time switched from linear to cyclical and I slowly got sucked down into a suffocating and spiralling repetative trip. Every five minutes repeated itself again and again stretching out into infinity. Conversations floated around me, lulling and teasing all at once. I tried to reach out and grab one, but it slipped through my fingers and I could only clutch at the heavy and stifling air. I knew I was in trouble. I was sinking deeper. I started to panic but I couldn't move. I was stuck in a repetative trip. The same voices saying the same indistinct things swirled around over my head. I tried to go with it. To savour it. But the repetition was suffocating. boom boom, boom boom, boom boom. Even my heart beat against me, taunting me with its regularity. Now more voices started up. New ones. These weren't my friends, they were the voices of strangers. Excellent. something's changed. Someone come and help me please. But then the new voices changed themselves. They became sinister. Threatening. They were taunting me too. I closed my eyes, trying to blot them out, but they came stabbing through my eyelids and into my brain regardless. I reached out again, clutching for air. This time I found solid ground between my fingers. Earth. It was real. I could feel something real! I clawed with all my might, feeling my fingers slip into the cool firm soil, pulling grass up by its roots. If only someone would pull me in the same way, pull me up out of this dark hole I had slipped into. I can't stop screaming. Am I screaming out loud or just in my head? I bit down on my fingers to make myself stop, but my mouth wasn't even moving. I bit down anyway, savouring the reality of the pain. could I stand up? I stood up. I fell down. Try again? Stand up. Fall down. Stand up. Walk. Falldown. I'm stuck. help. Panic. Calm. Panic. Calm. Repetative. Everything's repetative. boom boom. boom boom. boom boom. "Shutup" someone shouts from deep down in my mind. Am I screaming again? Am I talking to myself out loud? Can people hear my thoughts? That's it. People can hear my thoughts. That's what all the noise is. People want me to stop screaming so they can get some sleep. i should sleep. It must be about 3 in the morning. Everyone can hear me screaming. It's not funny any more. They're getting fed up with me. Oh my god. I'm on TV. The TV cameras have picked me out for the start of their Glastonbury coverage and Colin and Edith are laughing at my writhing and wriggling plight. I try to stand up. Try to look composed. I collapse on the ground again. Sleep. Sleep. It's all in your head. You're still in your tent. Keep calm. When you wake up it will all be over. I'm cold. It's cold in this tent. Why is there grass on my face? Am I waking up? Not yet. What's that?... warmth. Hot, warm, lovely, glowing feeling spreading down my legs and up my belly. MMMmmmmm, that's nice. MMMM, yeah. Mmmmmm....
Oh shit. I've just pissed myself. Ummm, guys, where are we? Sky? yes, I've pissed myself. Embarrassed? No. Just pleased to be alive again. You won't believe the bad trip I just had. Where are we? The Stone Circle????! How the hell did I get here? Who the fuck let me leave the tent?
Friday, Saturday, Sunday Saw some bands. Declined drugs.
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Heh, that's excellent. A similar thing happened to my friend in Amsterdam. He was biting people in search of reality as well, and he pissed himself, several times. He did not know what his body was for any more. How scary!
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I had to make sure my friends got to the toilet once on mushrooms, holding hands we trundled to the bushes
ali: have i wet myself
me: not yet
ali: where are we , this looks like leicester
me: plattfields park, manchester
ali: Have I wet myself?
Will: What is cold?
Ali: Have I wet myself
Will: What is cold
Ali: Have I wet myself
They seem to work best when you take a few, wait a few hours, few more, so it's nice and spaced out. and outside, no inside too many close textures. and dont eat before hand, throw uppppppp bad. insects in sick bad.
I think my favourite mushroom story was after a really nice time in the park going into the pub and getting my friend to get me a shandy. Thing is, I thought the bar staff were debating about whether it was too lame a drink to serve to someone, oh lol that was good. Then putting derek and Clyde on in the pub. In fact, i think derek and clyde were theo nly reason that trip stayed sane.
quote:IM A NIGGER AND I FUCKED A WHITE WOMAN
And so finishes my time with mushrooms! Saying that, I bought some on friday and I was too tired for them to have any major effect so they just kind of dwindled on at the back of my mind, which was a nice lead into the acid, which imo is how mushrooms should[ happen.
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Mushrooms are strange things. The one time I truly had a "few too many", time went for a fag break and didn't come back. I was convinced I was popping down the corridor of my student halls for a wee every 15 minutes or so, and was most surprised to find the same Malaysian gentleman on the phone every time. Needless to say approximately 5 minutes had elapsed between the first and tenth wee.
I then invented that "frozen multiple images" effect Top Of The Pops used to use in the early eighties, with my eyes.
Then Ian Curtis kept turniing to look at me from the obligatory black and white mother of a poster on my wall.
It's always better to use those boys for mild euphoria, I think.
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) so just traipsed back to the Other stage to see Cake. Cake were a bit of a let down as they didn't do The Distance or I will survive. Then we met some other friends from Norwich who were getting married in the chapel in the Lost Vagueness field but found they had chickened out when we got there. A wander through the Circus/Cabaret/Theatre fields took us to the back of the Pyramid arena for most of Brian Wilson's set - Was someone surfing on the crowd at the front? Then we went for food and were back in time to see the last couple of songs by Garbage and found a good space for Primal Scream. That Bobby Gillespie - WTF? I had heard he was a bit out of it but that takes the biscuit. Oh how we laughed when they pulled the plug on them. I hear Jo Wiley interviewed him live on BBC3 and asked him if he was looking forward to Basement Jaxx, to which he replied with language to make a sailor blush, all at 7 in the evening. Good thinking Jo. Basement Jaxx finished off the festival for us and they put on a great show, culminating in a crowd pleasing rendition of Where's your head at?.
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