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Part of the thrill of festivals is knowing that somewhere
along the line you’re going to miss good bands – it’s
like trying to hit all those pop-up moles with a hammer
at the fair – it’s too much, dizzying even, and occasionally
you get lost and out of sheer luck stumble into a tent
just as The Thrills launch into ‘Santa Cruz or
Spooks kick into ‘Karma Hotel’ as if they’ve been
waiting just for you. And if the weather comes right,
and you find yourself in a setting as beautiful as Barnham
Park near Wetherby, then things are set for a pretty
good experience – which is what the Leeds Carling
Festival provided for us this year.
While on the one hand, it was still a typically generic
affair – heavily sponsored, overpriced as regards food
and transport, and devoid of the idealism that seemed
to fuel festivals originally, it was nevertheless, working
from a familiar blueprint with a huge measure of success.
Leeds, like Reading, T in the Park and the V festivals,
is getting slicker than ever. Gone are the days of Jugglers
for a Free Tibet, replaced now by skateboard demonstrations
sponsored by Red Bull, Play Station tents and stalls
for Orange phones. Gone too, seems to be the catholic
tastes of the booking agents: nothing too daring, offensive,
on the edge, wonderfully bad or incredibly out-of-the-blue
brilliant, and yet the line up was shot through with
good, hungry bands doing what they do without irony
or pretence, which meant that over the three days we
could get to see the Polyphonic Spree halleluahing
their way around the Radio One stage like extras in
a Mel Brooks musical about the KKK, and Blink
182, Sum 41 and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs
barnstorming their respective stages as if they’d gate
crashed the place and expected to be thrown out any
minute. Interpol were as cool as The Music were
impassioned. Lamb were ethereal and Blackalicious
were blackalicious.
 It
has to be said that this being a more rock orientated
three days, the dance tent felt a little token, and
was peppered with acts that could easily have slotted
into the larger, ‘rock’ stages, such as Death In
Vegas (as gloriously dark as ever) and Audio
Bullys - but when you have FC Kahuna, Blak
Twang and various Freestylers on hand, it seems
churlish to moan.
It’s also probably fair to say that the best atmospheres
were created in the smaller tents, as anyone who saw
Spooks, A Hundred Reasons and the Polyphonic
Spree would attest to. Both the Radio One, and the
Smirnoff Dance tents had a similar atmosphere to Glasgow
Green, large yet intimate, full of happy shiny people
doing happy shiny things.
It was also refreshing to feel that all the bands wanted
to prove something – most have well received albums
under their belts, but few (excluding the headliners)
have reached any kind of peak yet, and few are genuinely
recognisable as ‘stars’ – I mean, for all their glorious
swagger, BRMC could still be mistaken for the
Stranglers at a distance, and haven’t you ever been
tempted to put on a white robe and try and pass yourself
off as one of the Polyphonic Spree? Basically, the line
up felt hopeful. While The Darkness, The Yeah
Yeah Yeahs and AFI have a manic charisma, they
are still all icons-in-waiting, and this bodes well
for a seemingly moribund music scene.
We also managed to get through the weekend without overdosing
on ‘irony’ – we didn’t have to pretend we liked Tom
Jones or have to listen to stylophone solos from Rolf
Harris – and on the Saturday, the heavy metal was hand-on-crotch,
not tongue-in-cheek. Metallica cracked rictus
smiles (drummer Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammet going so
far as to swap instruments for a while) and Placebo
were the bitter-sweet grunge poets we all know and love
( well perhaps not all - Ed)
Sunday was a fitting finale to the three days. Imagine
watching the sun set to a soundtrack by Doves,
and then have Beck play for you, mixing his set
with funky party pieces and those slower, melancholic
jewels that he kept hidden from the world until the
beautiful ‘Sea Changes’ album.
White Stripes were due to follow but were replaced
by BRMC who managed capably on attitude and power
chords. Pausing to speak to the audience between such
in-your-face instant classics as ‘We Don’t Know When
to Stop’, the ‘Club were disarmingly polite and almost
apologetic for being there instead of the ‘Stripes –
though no one seemed to mind by then.
We finished with Blur – their ‘Think Tank’ album
has not spawned the smash hits that previous albums
have – and yet its quieter, blissful tone, its spine
tingling use of backing singers, and subtle samples
of north African instruments somehow provided the perfect
soundtrack to the winding down of this whole glorious
three day affair. The soft wash of sound as darkness
fell was punctuated by classics such as ‘The Universal’;
‘Girls and Boys’; ‘Tender’ and ‘Song 2’.
A minimalist but striking light show added to the fun
– and the band looked, well they just looked happy to
be there, played for over an hour and a half and left
us feeling that something good had happened.
So, three days, well over 50,000 people, and the sense
that there is still a load of good music out there.
Not bad. And if you still are unhappy about the music
scene today, stop moaning and form a band. Thank you
Leeds.
Reading
Festival Review
Relevant Sites:
www.leedsfestival.com/
Irfan Shah for Crud Magazine 2003©
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