Monday, August 18, 2008

The truly detestable summer festival

I spent another weekend in Devon with the family in dismal rainy climes. The main event was a get-together for Nephew #2's 30th birthday. This makes me feel a bit old.

My Mum seems to be pretty sparky, or is at least beginning to liven up, after a health scare at the end of last week. Her Dr has taken her off a widely-used anticoagulent, and she appears to be getting back to normal rapidly. She always insisted that she didn't want to take the drug in question. Our now-retired family GP, who sees my mum periodically, refused point-blank to take it (which I think says a lot).

The small children were on good form, especially Small Monkey #3, who was doing his best to be the centre of everyone’s attention - bouncing on the trampoline with Small Monkey Girl #1, trying to "help" me with cooking food on the BBQ, and coming out into the garden wearing nothing but a nappy in the pouring rain.

The older kids were all well too. The only one missing was Nephew #1. We had a go at Guitar Hero on the PS3, which was great fun, but very difficult. My efforts - Holiday in Cambodia and I hate myself for loving you - were dismal and I got booed off stage twice by the electronic audience as well as the audience of real people in the room. Nieces #1 and #5 were very proficient, as was Nephew #3 and his girlfriend. Some long-forgotten grunge-era songs were dusted off and played in a flashy, tremolo-arm heavy style (Evenflow by Pearl Jam! Cherub Rock by Smashing Pumpkins!).

I had forgotten until that point that I once met Billy Corgan, pictured here in pre-slaphead, post-Courtney times, when he signed a copy of my Reading Festival Melody Maker * in 1992. He seemed uncomfortable and shy. Bear in mind that this was Corgan before he was famous, before his legendary ego threatened to crush the Western world. The first Pumpkins album is an astonishing piece of work, it must be said. Much like Bleach and the Sliver EP by Nirvana, it turned my world on its head. Following their initial early promise, I found that they quickly became bloated, a parody of themselves, and I lost interest, cf Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, etc.

I also met Redd Kross at that particular Reading. They were lovely. For those of you who don't know, they were an amazing act, a sort of glam-rock Beatles/less idiotic Kiss/live action cartoon.

Another brief series:

Stuff that happened to me while at Reading Festival (1991 - 1993)

Got sunburnt on the first, very overcast, day
Fell over in the mud within an hour of arriving
Threw myself about in a moshpit to Babes in Toyland
Met several friends from college in the toilet queue and commiserated about bad A level results
Threw mud at The Farm (no-one should mess with Don't you want me!)
Slept in a Ford Cortina instead of a tent (three times) - smell free, sound proof and very comfy, everything you would expect from a mid-80s saloon car
Saw Nirvana at the bottom and the top of the bill, on either side of Nevermind
Was part of a group of about 100 people watching the astonishing Melvins (the incarnation with Shirley Temple Black's daughter on bass)
Danced to Yank Anglophiles the Gigolo Aunts with toocool, was filmed by late-night ITV music programme The Beat, and was subsequently featured on said programme, much to my surprise (although you couldn't exactly miss me - I was wearing an orange t-shirt and a preposterous hat. You could say I asked for that one)

I should say that the only one of the above that I did single-handedly was sleep in the Cortina, although that wasn't for the want of trying...

I gave up going to Reading because I stopped finding it fun. I always said I would never go to a festival again, and only capitulated a couple of years ago when I went to ATP (that was different: chalets instead of tents and everything indoors). Aside from seeing my mates, I didn't really enjoy that either. When it comes down to it, loads of bands appearing on the same bill doesn't really work for me anymore.

* For old Maker fans, go to The Quietus for the resurrection of Mr Agreeable!

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