Rain And A Rickety Tent - Oxegen Review
By Conor Duffy
Saturday (Click here for Sunday)
Hi, I’m a festival virgin. Obviously there comes a time in every person’s life when they must make the transition from music-loving child to adult, and for me this was over the weekend of the 10th and 11th of July 2004 at the Oxegen music festival (formerly Witnness - proof, if ever it was needed, that you don’t need to be fully literate to organise a music festival), located at Punchestown Racecourse, near Naas, Co. Kildare. The chance to catch big names like The Darkness and The Strokes, as well as checking out some of the latest up-and-comers, it really was the only choice. The fact that it meant I wouldn’t have to work on the Twelfth weekend, and therefore deal with stupid tourist from the North, was an added bonus I only saw after buying the ticket.
Setting off on the bus on that cloudy Saturday morning, I had everything I needed to survive two days in the wilderness, i.e. Naas: a sleeping bag I wouldn’t use, a coat I would, and a brand new Pro Action one person tent, which I bought from Argos for the low low price of £14.99. Warm and snug, it’s fairly easy to set up and, as I would later discover, completely useless for music festivals. But that’s not the point. The point is, we got to Punchestown Racecourse a little after one. I’ll admit, I was a bit worried: the forecast was for moderately good weather. But, to my relief, it was pissing down nicely as I stood in line for fifteen minutes at the main entrance. Dammit, I was missing all the action. I constructed my tent quickly, and then had to move it as it was on the pathway. Whatever, time to get in there.
I had no map and no times for bands – for the first time I was regretting my choice of Kerrang! over Hot Press. But I did know that Scissor Sisters were just about to get started on the main stage, and the bulk of the crowd was heading that way. Well, that’s all well and good, but I just wasn’t in the mood. Besides, Future Kings Of Spain were playing on the Ticket Stage some time over this weekend, and I wasn’t going to miss them.
I got to the Ticket Stage to hear the last two songs by Stellastarr*. It was all I needed to hear. A band for whom distortion is no enemy, they showed just why the hype machine was whirring around them earlier in the year, and continue the grand tradition of ice-cool bass goddesses. But who is coming next? I’m worried that by hanging around here I’ll miss some momentous occasion. Yes, well, that might have been true, but at least I didn’t miss BellX1. They’re not a band I would be overly interested in, but as the crowd grew considerably just prior to their set, I can see that their popularity continues to rise. This is no doubt helped by latest single 'Eve The Apple Of My Eye' getting plenty of airplay. But you can’t begrudge BellX1 their time in the sun when they’re doing something other than the simple indie or bland singer-songwriter stuff that Ireland is full of. The use of computers, keyboards and a toy megaphone make them one of the more innovative groups I see this weekend, and when Adam and Eve themselves are brought onstage (just a couple wearing freakish apple heads, you perves) it puts the icing on the cake.
Still, I feel I must move on, so it is to the Green Room Tent I go, to catch the end of Maria Doyle Kennedy, I later discover. Some of you might remember her from The Commitments (obviously I don’t), but it wasn’t soul coming from the stage. Maria and her band rocked out with a passion that proves women are the only ones still angry enough to make good rock music. Which reminds me; isn’t PJ Harvey on the Main Stage soon? Time to walk again.
A few minutes later and I’m just outside a surprisingly sparse pit. As an unconfident young man who used to fear for his life on the slide at school, I decide to stay out anyway. But it seems I am early, there’s just one more act first. Good thing it’s the Divine Comedy then.
"Look, it’s stopped raining!" says Neil Hannon as the band hit the opening notes of 'Absent Friends.' Don’t say that Neil, it’ll- bugger. The weather gods obviously didn’t like that, as the attempt to flood us out intensifies. And yet we stay, despite the rain and the knowledge that he won’t mind if we "fuck off." But Mr. Hannon, how can we possibly leave when you have us spellbound with those unforgettable poppy hooks and your full charismatic voice? Besides, if you played 'Generation Sex' and I wasn’t there to hear it, I’d be mightily pissed off. But I am there to hear it, as well as the rest of the set, mixing old favourites with songs too new to be old favourites just yet. By the end, I don’t mind that the cold I caught the week before is about to come back with a vengeance.
According to the big screens, the Kings of Leon are on next. Actually, I’m not too bothered, so I’ll go see what I can catch in the hour or so before PJ. And in the New Bands Tent I catch Sons And Daughters, a collective of two boys, two girls, and some excellent songs. Titles like 'Johnny Cash' make no secret of a country influence, with more bite than even The Man In Black could’ve provide. The Sons And Daughters have a new album out. You should buy it, should the opportunity arise.
The big screens were wrong. The Kings of Leon are not playing as I exit the tent. Guess who is? OK, I’ve got to get in the pit for PJ Harvey. Doing that was easier than I imagined, and by God, am I happy I took the chance. Harvey’s live shows have something of a reputation. Unfortunately, it’s not a very good one, but I couldn’t see that as she went through some of her biggest hits. Looking at the crowd, then looking at the way this woman owned the stage, I experienced something I never had before: complete awe. That didn’t stop me from noticing the strange coincidence of the camera changing position every time she bent down however. But to hell with that: as Polly Jean made her big exit to, rather appropriately, 'Big Exit', I was just left wondering why all shows weren’t that good.
I met up with some people during Kings Of Leon, so I wasn’t really paying attention. But they played 'Molly’s Chambers', which was nice, so as background music goes they certainly weren’t bad. Of course, The Strokes get my full attention. Say what you will about the wave of shit garage rock bands that followed the New Yorkers, at least these guys know what they’re doing. In all honesty I was expecting studied cool and little interaction with the crowd, but that was before I realized Julian Casablancas was drunk. Fair dues to the man, he’s very charismatic as he says, "You guys are great - ya motherfuckers!!" And because the neglected to actually write down a set list before getting tanked up, he has ample opportunities to improve his people skills, and share with us his excitement at seeing The Cure. Throw in a cover of The Clash’s 'Clampdown', and you end up with an entertaining show.
The percentage of Goth girls and boys (and their parents) around me is rising - must be time for The Cure. That T In The Park gets Pixies and we get Robert Smith and chums has me slightly troubled, but it could be worse - could’ve been Black Lace. Still, I find it hard to get into their set, probably because I only know two Cure songs (you know what they are) and neither are played. Plus it’s midnight, I’m wet, I’m hungry, and for some reason I’m quite worried about my tent. So eventually I get pulled away from the pit by a banana and chocolate crepe, which sounds disgusting, but is the only halfway healthy thing I eat all weekend. And 'Boys Don’t Cry ' is no bad way to cap off the first day of Oxegen.
I return to find my tent has collapsed. Some funny guy decided to pull out the pins. Oh, I was in stitches. Well, sod that, I went off to drink cider with some friends ‘til six in the morning.