Sinister: T In The Park - Early Review

[Rod Begbie]

Well, here's my story of what I got up to at T in The Park.

Day One - Me, my sister Ali, and her friend Fiona.
-------

Arrived at a leisurely hour on Saturday, and had a bit of a wander about
to see what was where, and that.  Nice day -- not *too* hot, but
pleasantly warm nonetheless.

Walked into the NME tent in time to catch the end of THE YOUNG OFFENDERS,
who were alrightish, although the sound was cack and you couldn't actually
hear any of the vocals.  But they did have two female backing singers
dancing away in the background, who were fun to watch. 

Popped into the Virgin Tea-Tent and had a cup of blackcurrant tea, whilst
checking my Hotmail account on their 'net link, before setting up the
default home page to point to my sister's website (http://hg4.com/bings/)

Went back into the NME tent to catch a bit of THEAUDIENCE, who were pretty
dire, but the lead singer's a little bit nice, albeit a right stuck-up
prissy madam.  Group of pissed blokes (well, it was 1:15pm by this stage)
have a rousing singsong of "Get yer tits out", before shouting the bizarre
heckle "Shake your shamis!" at the bemused girl.

Have a quick game of Downfall in the Double Six tent, before we split up -
Ali + Fi go to see Travis on the Main Stage, while I go to see RIALTO in
the tent.  And they were fucking marvellous.  Rod's Rules For Music #1:
The more drums the better.  And with two drumkits, Rialto could hardly
lose.  I'm definitely buying the album when it comes out tomorrow.

Have an icecream, then watch ULTRASOUND.  When the band walk onstage,
no-one notices.  They don't look like rockstars - more like roadies.  Then
the enormous Tiny walks on, takes a photo of the crowd and everyone
cheers. Though Tiny gets all the attention in reviews and interviews, the
real stars of the band are the guitarist, who leaps around like the
rock'n'roll star he so obviously wants to be, and Vanessa, the bassist,
whose harmonies are what actually raise the songs from being completely
dreary, to slightly uplifting.

After they've done all their singles, I leave to have a look in the "Cafe
Club" tent, where Alan Parker - Urban Warrior is scheduled.  But first we
have to endure "comediennes" Viv'n'Jill, who I've seen dying on their arse
in Christies Pub in Edinburgh more times than I care to remember, try to
warm up the audience.  To no avail.  Everyone's too busy watching the
pissed bloke at the front who's making his own entertainment by having a
one-man Mexican wave.

Alan Parker doesn't fair much better - crowd doesn't respond much to him,
he stumbles over his jokes (which haven't changed much since I last saw
him 4 years ago) to "deflect" heckles, and the pissed bloke in the front
tries to enter into an animated debate (which I think was actually
intended as support) with him, until security come to the rescue.  The
biggest laugh was for some random guy who walks across in front of the
stage, and drops the hood on his jumper to reveal a big plastic Elvis
"wig".  I leave at this point to meet up with Ali + Fi. 

Meet Ali who says that Fi is at the very front of the crowd at the Main
Stage, so we elbow our way through the crowd (surprisingly easy) to the
strains of SPACE.  Now, I'm not much of a fan of Space on record, but they
weren't all that bad live.  I caught the last half-hour of their set,
which meant I got quite a few songs I knew, including the finale when
Cerys out of Catatonia came on to do the duet.

So then we stand around for half an hour, waiting for ROBBIE WILLIAMS,
while I get dogs abuse from a group of pissed women because I am a) 6ft
tall b) A bloke and c) In front of them for Robbie.  I ignore them. 

Now, if you took the BBC's Light Entertainment department, and drained
every last ounce of entertainment out of every last one of their staff,
you would not even get close to the amount of entertainment value crammed
into Robbie Williams.  He sings, he dances, he does comedy poses, he tells
jokes, he hands his backstage pass to a member of the audience. And,
quite frankly, he kicks botty.  Totally excellent, even if I was spending
most of the time trying to help the teenage girls who'd been crushed over
the barrier to safety.

Time for a change of pace, so I went off to see SPIRITUALISED.  And a
complete mind-fuck that was.  Most songs can have a quiet bit and a loud
bit, a fast bit and a slow bit.  But only Spiritualised play all these
parts at the same time.  Somehow, the music makes it hard to keep my eyes
open.  I stand, swaying, eyes shut, taking in every beat.  And all I'd
consumed was a couple of pints of Tennents!  Sheer class.  I don't notice
time going by - after 45 minutes, I glance at my watch and realise that I
should be meeting the girls now!

Rush across the park to meet up with Ali + Fi again, and watch the start
of THE PRODIGY on the main stage.  Who were absolutely shite, in my
considered opinion.  The music sounded *exactly* the same as it does on
record, the only difference being that the lyrics were being shouted
louder, and with more swearing.  It was like a karaoke session in a
tourettes ward.

So we headed off to catch the last half of ASH, and boy am I glad we did.
The tent was half empty, but the music was great.  All the hits, a couple
of new ones, and I got to jump around like a loon in a relatively open
space.  The first time I saw Ash was at TitP'95, the day before 'Girl From
Mars' got into the Top 10.  And they've come light years from there.  A
great end to the night.

(Oh, and I spotted my favourite T-shirt of the weekend.  Front: CELINE
DION...  Back: SUCKS FARTS OUT OF DEAD CATS)

So home, to a hot shower and a warm bed.  Hurrah!


Day Two - Me, Ali + Fi, plus Kim and Helen, two more of Ali's chums
-------   (NB:  Miscreants:  It's Kim!)

Waken to the sound of rain.  Bugger.  It's pissing it down outside.  Rake
around house to try and find waterproof clothing.

Arrive, and the place is muddy.  OK, so people who went to Glastonbury
would look and scoff, but still a pain.  Daintily traipse through the
carpark, trying to avoid getting our feet too mucky.  Walk through the
gate, and admit defeat.  We're going to get muddy.

When we get in, THE SUPERNATURALS, who Ali really likes, are onstage, so
we head up for them.  They're alright, I suppose, but not really my cup of
tea.  It's like they've listened to Digsy's Dinner on the Oasis album,
and decided to record a load of songs based around that one idea.  But
they're ideal festival fodder - poppy and jump-aroundy.  Their biggest
cheer, however, comes when they announce that Chumbawamba have pulled out.

We all stand in the Radio 1 tent for a while, trying to warm up a bit,
before me, Kim + Helen go to watch STEREOPHONICS, who were surprisingly
good, I thought.  I'd never really bothered trying their singles, putting
them down as JustAnotherIndieGuitarBand, but they really were extremely
enjoyable live.  Further investigation of ther recorded material is called
for.

The ladies all decide to watch Finley Quaye (someone who Fi would later
spray with mud), but I consider him to be a dickhead of epic proportions,
so visited the Radio 1 tent once more for uk.misc favourites, GOMEZ.  Who
were wonderful.  3 lead vocalists, 4 guitarists, 2 bassists, 2 drummers
and a keyboardist - and there's only 6 people on stage.  ScaryVocalsMan
was incredible, and the tunes were ace - especially a much-speeded-up
version of 78 Stone Wobble which was fantastic, and the final Whipping
Picadilly which sounded like pure pop music on stage.

I attempt to fulfill my promise that I would watch half of Natalie
Imbruglia's set, but a dangerously over-crowded tent (5% fans of her
music, 94% blokes who want to see her tits, 1% people just desparate to
get out of the rain) means that we just leg it across to catch GARBAGE. 

For the first few songs that we saw, they didn't seem terribly on-form. 
While their cover of Big Star's Thirteen is very lovely as a B-side, when
you're stood in a wet field, covered in mud, you don't really want to hear
a twee tale about young love.  But Garbage deliver after all, with a
superb version of Stupid Girl, and many other singles, culminating in a
somewhat appropriate Only Happy When It Rains.  At which point, it stopped
raining.  Huzzah! 

My Stone Roses obsession causes me to force Ali + Fi to follow me to watch
IAN BROWN, but he proves to be disappointing.  But better than The
Seahorses, so that's alright!  Take a gander in the other tent at
CORNERSHOP who I thought were quite good (in a kind of droney stoned way),
but the girls thought was pish.  So we left. 

Finally, PULP on the main stage.  Playing a 6-year-old single (Do You
Remember The First Time) as your second song may seem a strange idea, but
it got the crowd in the appropriate mood to enjoy whatever he threw at
them - whether a Number One Hit Single, or a track of their latest
"unpopular" album.  The guy is a star, pure and simple.  And the mad crowd
singalong of the finale was a fitting end to the weekend.

So I'm now sat here at 1:30am, thoroughly de-mudded, with a cup of hot
chocolate, and can look back and say it was faboo.

Just thank God I wasn't camping.


Rod.

                                    Rod Begbie @ http://www.begbie.com |
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| If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands. <CLAP> <CLAP>

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