Let’s get this out of the way first. What a shit hole the Reading festival site really is. By Sunday the whole place smells of rancid fast food, unwashed punters and other smells you wouldn’t wish to think about for too long. Compared to other festivals (and certainly in my experience even the Leeds festival) it is ugly and the facilities are poor. What bearing this has on the events of the day are up for debate but surely if you treat people like animals they will act like animals.
At the end of the day though it’s the music that brings us here and once again the bill promises many treats. The sun is shining and it will on the whole stay dry for the rest of the day. Arriving on site slightly too late to catch the Futureheads in a ridiculously early slot, we turn our attentions to THE FIERY FURNACES. With the crowd swelled considerably by the only rain shower of the day the band take full advantage of the unexpected numbers by treating them to their own quirky take on pop. Full of stop start rhythms and slightly unhinged vocals they are certainly an acquired taste and knowledge of their material would certainly enhance the experience. ‘Tropical Iceland’ proves this by being both their most familiar song and a stand out in a set that soon grates with it’s unrelenting oddness. The fact that the crowd is almost as strong in numbers at the end of the set as it was at the start however speaks volumes.
DOGS DIE IN HOT CARS also bring the crowds in even though there’s not a rain drop in sight. They also get a rousing reception and invoke the first mass sing along of the day. Why is completely beyond me, their music is inoffensive yet utter drivel and the niceness factor is cranked to 11 until it makes your teeth ache. Their popularity remains a mystery to this reviewer and eventually we admit defeat in the face of their unrelenting blandness.
Much the same can be said of THE STILLS. Whilst musically they are much more our cup of Rosie we are left cold by their charisma free stage craft and lightweight indie stylings. They’re not bad as such but on the other hand they’re not great either. Is their any worse criticism than being ok? We cut short watching their set so that we can find a decent position at the main stage for THE STREETS.
Whilst we find ourselves swimming in the face of critical and public opinion by suggesting ‘A Grand don’t Come for Free’ isn’t the masterpiece many are suggesting but rather a weak album that once you work past the flimsiest of stories seriously lacks decent tunes. We would like to put forward the opinion that the first album is far superior in the belting tunes stake and it would also be fair to say our expectations aren’t high for their performance today. How wrong we are. As Mike Skinner takes to the stage to ‘Turn the Page’ the first thing you notice how much of an event this feels. There’s a real warmth and sense of expectation from the crowd, an expectation that is fulfilled by storming versions of ‘Don’t Mug yourself’, ‘Let’s Push Things Forward’ and ‘Original Pirate Material’, material that seem infinitely more muscular live than they do on record.
Reading is dancing, an irony not lost on Mike Skinner who points out that perhaps they should be in the dance stage rather than on the ‘rock’ stage. He then leads the crowd in some rock dancing to make amends. From the new album ‘Blinded by the Lights’ and a ramshackle ‘Fit but You Know it’ stand their ground aside the older material but although ‘Dry Your Eyes’ may be topping the charts it still sounds mawkish to these ears. But this is but a blip in the whole scheme of things and the rest of the set is an utter triumph.
What with !!! proving to be the highlight of Friday and the Streets majestic performance we’re beginning to wonder whether Reading is being taken over by the dancier end of the musical spectrum. Certainly a lot of the rock bands we’ve seen have been rather underwhelming and uninspiring. However hopes are high for THE SECRET MACHINES. Having put forward a strong entry for album of the year in the shape of ‘Now Here is Nowhere’ their performance on the Carling Stage is high on the W&H list of things we must see.
With their distinctive triangular set up with the drums pushed to the left they kick off with ‘First Wave Intact’. The sound is totally off balance with the guitar pushed far too low in the mix but this is rectified half way through the nine minute opener from their debut album. The prog tag has been wielded around rather a lot with these boys and although the crowd that assembles is certainly one of the most stoned of the weekend it is still misleading. Admittedly on their quieter moments they do sail a little too close to Pink Floyd territory but on the rockier ‘Sad and Lonely’ and ‘The Road Leads Where it’s Led’ the drums kick hard under a spaced out rock where there is little in the way of self indulgent solo’s. As they finish with ‘Now Here is Nowhere’ (imagine the Strokes with more personality) we find it difficult to believe they will be playing this far down the bill again in the near future.
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When we last caught RADIO 4 live we were blown away (and then some) by the sheer exuberance of their performance. Yet when we finally got our hands on the long awaited follow up to ‘Gotham!’, we were stunned at how the new material stood up. W&H started to question their judgement (and their drinking capacity), these new songs they had played live that had sounded so vibrant and spiky, sounded flat on CD.
Well it makes us very happy to inform you the demise of Radio 4 is not imminent. Whilst their new album ‘Stealing of a Nation’ remains a stinker (it actually get’s worse with repeat listening), live they still have it going on and then some. Opening with ‘Partycrashers’ it is immediately apparent that the house vibe on record is usurped with their trade mark spiky guitars and barked vocals courtesy of lead singer Anthony Roman who’s a twitchy, tightly wound bundle of polemic throughout. PJ the percussionist remains a visitor from a parallel dimension where thrilling bongo players show no sense of rhythm when dancing. Old favourites provide the highlights of a short, sharp, shock of a show. Eye’s Wide Open’, ‘Start a Fire’ and an anthemic ‘Dance to the Underground’ can show the Rapture a thing or two about who’s got this funk punk thing sussed. The new material makes you realise how over produced ‘Stealing of a Nation’ is, so devoid of soul and mechanical. They leave the dance tent utterly breathless and once again we note that yet another Reading highpoint have their designs firmly on the dance floor.
With a little time to spare we find ourselves relaxing with a leisurely pint when we notice an awful lot of bottles heading in the general direction of the main stage. 50 CENT has started his slot, 20 minutes early and to the worst reception I have ever witnessed at a festival (and I’ve been to Donnington twice). We had heard of The Rasmus getting bottled off earlier in the day but not even they could have had such a sustained barrage accompanied by such fierce booing.
Now, this reviewer is no fan of 50 Cent, his macho posturing, bragging and general twattery get’s right up my nose. I’ll even admit to a wry smile when watching this spectacle but what sort of wanker do you have to be to throw bottles of piss at a performer? Misbooked he may be, a fool he certainly is (don’t throw bottles back at the crowd, dickhead) but there is something unsettling about this herd behaviour that I thought this music we love was an escape from. Mmmm.
As we join the very end of AUF DER MAUR’s set just as a rammed tent is informed that this is only the second time she has played the Reading festival and the first time was exactly a decade ago in her debut gig with Hole. The crowd go mental for her and there’s a genuine warmth towards this bona fide member of rock royalty as she brings the set to a rousing finale with ‘Follow the Waves’. We are yet to be convinced by her solo work but it remains a special ‘Reading’ moment.
The VON BONDIES aren’t up to following this and their set is a relative disappointment. Their ‘Pawn Shoppe Heart’ album, whilst not startlingly original, remains a visceral rock ‘n’ roll workout but live they are a charisma free proposition. SUPERGRASS make amends to a degree with a lively work through their greatest hits but we will have to admit to wandering feet and mind. We pass the main stage just as GREEN DAY launch into a version of Queen’s ‘We are the Champions’. And they say punk is dead.
Today captured the best and the worst sides of the Reading festival. In the end though the good outweighs the bad by far and even a day later we are romanticising even the grimmest of memories. Reading remains the festival of the summer, long may it reign.
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