Paradise Circus

Ok, so once again we attended Bearded Theory and once again I feel inclined to chronicle our escapades. I'd imagine this tale will be a bit shorter than last year's since I don't plan on describing everything all over again; aesthetically the festival was almost identical to its previous incarnation with some minor differences, but we'll get to those.

The night before was spent watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, which turned out to be a comedy and a pretty good one to boot. We had been asked by Eileen and Nikki previously to make an early start to ensure we all got tent space, since they'd no doubt beat us there and couldn't hold the fort for too long. So, at the ungodly hour of 8am, we set off to carnage once more. Lyndsay and Thomas were picked up, the car was filled to the brim, our mammoth car playlist of 120 songs was shoved on and we were off! Now, there was a problem - the official set of directions were conflicting with Google Maps which were conflicting with my sat nav, so the journey felt like a game of Deal Or No Deal at times, shit shirts and all. After one pit stop and many wrong turns, we arrived in the familiar field of Catton Hall.

Eileen and Nikki had slept in, so the fact that we were late was fine, we beat them by at least half an hour and the motorcade which formed that our car had narrowly avoided didn't help. So, we got to setting up. The site we had camped at last year was closed off this time for whatever reason, possibly because we nearly set it all ablaze that one time. Luckily we soon found a pretty large patch hidden among the tents which would fit us all. I decided that since the car needed emptied by a Herculean titan of a man, I would undertake this rigorous trial (translation: I didn't want to set up the tent, fuck that). The heat was absolutely lethal, us Scots are used to having a nice pale blue colour in our skin, so this was quite a shock to the system. After we were all set up, the remaining two finally got parked, so off we went to meet them, then back to setting up it was. We were all already completely knackered from the heat, driving and tent-pitching, but we managed to soldier on long enough to have our first tequila slammer of the weekend. Beer and spirits were shoved in our pockets and the adventure began.

The first thing that leapt out at me was "Bacon and maple syrup pancakes" on the way in, I made a mental note to make sure this was indulged in later. I think it would be fair to say that Lyndsay and Thomas were as overwhelmed by everything as Clare and I were the first time round and no wonder, it really does feel like stepping into an alternate reality for a weekend. The majority of attractions and stalls seemed to be mostly unchanged from last year, however my favourite burger/chilli cheese fries stand had been replaced with a generic burger stand, who also said they did chilli cheese fries but they used some contrived name to advertise it, stacked chilli twist or some nonsense like that. One new addition was an alcoholic slushie stand by the woodlands, right across from where I fell in a bush last year trying to have a sneaky slash. Perhaps because this was the ten-year anniversary of the festival, prices seemed to have creeped up a little bit, I genuinely didn't recall things being quite so expensive last year...but then I hardly knew what day it was last year, so who knows? Thomas got his slushie, which came in a tiny plastic cup with a whopping £6 price tag. "Well, this better be the best slushie I've ever had in my life. Six quid for that?!" We laughed about this, but when we visited this stand the next day, the tiny cups had been replaced with much bigger ones. Obviously we can't say for sure Thomas'...ahem...feedback was what lead to this, but I'd like to think it played a part and they listened.

Before we had left the tent, Nikki had whipped out her huge, juicy wishlist for the bands she wanted to see. We had all arrived with only two bands in mind: the 90s Britpop juggernauts Cast and Skunk Anansie, can't say I'm familiar with them. Anyway, one of Nikki's bands was 90s dub/reggae band Dreadzone, who were on the pallet (main) stage. Having arrived a day earlier than last year, we discovered that the Thursday is much more laidback than the remaining days, so not many bands were playing and they were all on the pallet stage. Coming to festivals like these makes you feel very musically ignorant, all of these bands you've never heard of with considerable fanbases, but you seem to always leave with a new favourite band. Dreadzone were not mine. They performed brilliantly, but dub music has never been my thing except in very particular instances (Study in Blue, for example). I did very much enjoy their last two songs though, or maybe that was just because they set off fireworks and giant streamers during them. What can I say, I'm a simple man.

This, technically, was Thomas' very first gig - Dreadzone. But we didn't really count it, we had come for one band and one band only. I decided I could wait no longer and got my chilli cheese fries at last. Now, I may be remembering this wrong and I got them before Dreadzone, but whatever. They were utter shit in comparison to the stuff we got last year, the cheese wasn't melted, the chilli was literally full of beans and it just wasn't great. Thomas loved them - had he tried the melt-in-your-mouth magic that was on offer last year, I think it's safe to assume we'd have a new member of The Church of Chilli Cheese. Oh, there were no zebra burgers either. Seriously, what the fuck? They had duck, which apparently tasted just like a regular burger. So that was probably my one disappointment this year: the food, it just wasn't up to last year's standard, everything was underwhelming...and some of the stands were the same ones! You can't explain that. Around this time, Thomas decided he needed a kip, so Lyndsay walked back to the tent with him while the four of us that remained hammered home the booze. By the time Lyndsay got back, we were practically rolling around the grass, making new friends all the way. My memory gets a little hazy here, but I'm sure Lyndsay returned to the tent soon after this while I, Clare, Eileen and Nikki walked back. How drunk were we? Well, let me put it this way: Clare and Eileen began improvising a lovely little ditty that went something like "Where's me phone? In me bum bag. Where's me bum bag? It's in the toilet" Nikki seemed to understand what was going on, but I just shuffled along in complete bewilderment. Must be a South Africa thing. We returned to our tent and began drinking more, we had already consumed about five different types of spirits, but we were still riding high. Nikki's friend James came along and introduced himself around this time, he was a really cool guy and a great conversationalist. Soon after, we hit the sack (well, bag) safe in the knowledge we had partied at just the right level of mayhem.

Happy hangover! Well, to the others anyway, mine lasted all of fifteen minutes, har har. I'd forgotten just how Hellish waking up in tents in this weather was, you had a choice of cooking to a crisp, finding out what asphyxiation feels like inside the tent or lying on the canvas just outside the tent door, which felt like roleplaying as a fly stuck on tape when you tried to get up. When the others awoke, the tequila was brought out almost immediately. This was around 11am and it very much put a spring in our step, except mine - the combination of the heat, the hangover which I couldn't really feel and the tequila really rattled me. James paid us another visit. Since he didn't drink, when we told him what liquor we were taking he could only laugh, probably picturing the six of us lying in a field later, begging for the sweet release of death. "We're taking Jagermeister. It's not the nicest, but it does the trick" "What trick does it do?" I went with Clare, Eileen and Nikki to explore some more, frying all the way. We went to the bar but I simply didn't have the energy to drink at that moment, so I got some lemonade. "Good idea mate, get some sugar in you, it's gonna be a long weekend!" said the barman.

There was a circus on in the afternoon, Circus Insane, where we met Lyndsay and Thomas. When we tried to get into the Convoy Cabaret tent to see, there was no stage, so we could only assume the circus was on our level, so we couldn't see a thing. Dumb. We then had a look inside the dance tent and Nikki immediately sprang into action and danced like it was going out of fashion. I was still feeling fairly feeble at this point from the sun, so Nikki entreated me to buy a hat, which I finally caved in on. I only wanted a hat to survive the heat so I was going for a minimalist design and had to settle on a Top Gun-esque cap. Not sure I'm glad that I was later told I suited it. When Clare and I got back, we were told someone was stretchered away after being struck down by sunstroke. As we all sat around the dance tent hiding under whatever tiny patches of shade we could find while Eileen and Nikki tore it up, a hippie walked past, kneeled down and sat his empty can of Fosters next to me. What a dick! I picked it up to put it in the bin and that was when I noticed - it wasn't empty at all, it was sealed. This complete stranger had just given me a free, cold can of beer. Luckily I was beginning to snap out of the exhaustion by now and was considering grabbing a beer anyway, so I wired in.

After being implored to get food (sweet potato fries, best thing I had all festival) Clare, Lyndsay, Thomas and I decided to peruse around the stalls to see if we could find anything new and/or interesting. Clare also wanted to get Lyndsay a hat, which she had gotten when I got my hat, it was a rainbow trilby-looking thing and really suited her. The only thing of interest I saw were the little handmade animals we had seen last year, but they had a whole new set of them, no Autistic Bumblebee or Armydillo in sight. However, they did have a blue stegosaurus. "Oh my God, dreams do come true". So I got that, a beaver (not got a name for them yet) and a cow for Lyndsay and Thomas as a memento. This whole blog is a mess already, seem to have gotten a lot out of order, but anyway I'm pretty sure after having a look around we went to get more food. I settled on a chorizo hot dog which just tasted like a hot dog, Clare got a pulled pork roll which looked really good actually, Lyndsay got quite bland noodles and Thomas got a whole turkey leg...and ten doughnuts...and some of Lyndsay's noodles. We walked back to the tent to briefly recharge and gear up for Cast.

Now, the problem was that Skunk Anansie clashed a little bit with Cast, by fifteen minutes specifically. So, Clare and Eileen would be seeing them, while Lyndsay, Thomas and I secured a spot at the woodlands. Last year we apparently couldn't even get in to the woodlands because it was so packed, so we made damn sure that wasn't happening tonight. Nikki hasn't left the dance tent by this point. So, we sat around the woods, drinking our beers, chilling out with a couple of people sitting by a tree. At this point, Thomas said something along the lines of "It really is spectacular just how many people have come here" "And all of them chill, no arseholes". The band playing before Cast (The Carnabys) were ok, their stage behaviour made me cringe a little bit, but their cover of Walk on the Wild Side was sublime, no question. When we realised The Carnabys were playing their final song, we began to slither to the front of the crowd. I shit you not, within a matter of seconds, the crowd dispersed completely and we sauntered over to the front of the stage, the very front. Another couple of seconds later, the barrier at the front was completely jammed with people, but our spot was secure and we wouldn't be moving for death or taxes. We did need the toilet, but it would have to wait. When we had processed what had just happened and the fact we were within touching distance of the band, we all slowly looked at each other with expressions of sheer awe, disbelief and hype for what was about to go down. God Only Knows by The Beach Boys played through the speakers and I don't think I could have asked for a more appropriate song.

Clare's view

The soundcheck commenced and as always there was one guy who fancied himself a superstar and jammed on the instruments for far too long, mumbling unintelligible gibberish all the way. We stood rooted to that spot at the front for a solid forty five minutes, people came and went, the crowd behind us got thicker, and thicker, and thicker. We weren't going anywhere, but we did want to make sure we got a good shot of the three of us at the front, so we practiced taking pictures, but it was just so awkward. The guys behind us didn't mind a bit, so in hindsight we should've just asked one of them to take it. Some photographers congregated in front of us on the other side of the barrier, so the photo we did eventually get didn't properly illustrate just how close we were and it sadly only had me in it. One of the photographers looked identical to Ricky Gervais from the side, I must've done about four double takes. Then, it happened. Out came the band and the crowd went absolutely ballistic. The sound was surprisingly bearable considering we were mere feet away from the humongous amplifiers. Now, let's be honest, no one was there to hear tracks from Cast's new album Kickin' Up the Dust, but they played five in a row anyway. I normally hate when bands play new material at live gigs when I haven't had a chance to learn the songs so I can butcher them strangled-cat style, but they were actually really good, much more varied and interesting than the stuff on their album Troubled Times. John Power (the frontman) then thanked the audience for listening patiently to the band's new songs and acknowledged that it sometimes isn't the best gig when that happens...then they launched into Finetime. Needless to say, the crowd, myself included, went insane, pogoing like there was no tomorrow, roaring at the top of our lungs, clapping our skin off and generally behaving like a riot. The band actually acknowledged the three of us with their undressing eyes, they looked at us regularly, smiled, enjoyed themselves with us, played harder the louder we got and I swear we weren't imagining this, the drummer looked me square in the eye for at least half a song at one point. Live the Dream was then played flawlessly, then Free Me which I was never the biggest fan of. Lyndsay had earlier asked if Cast played 'Guideaway', she had meant 'Guiding Star' and 'Walkaway', bless her. Anyway, the band then played those two songs back to back (though in reverse order) and believe me, when the chorus of Guiding Star began, we most certainly 'got up, got up, got up'. Soon before this, Clare and Eileen had found us at the front somehow, so we were all set for the next adventure. The show ended and we walked away knowing we had just shared a very special experience. I had checked Thomas' expression once or twice through the show and each time he was completely fixated on what he was watching. I had worried that he was thinking "Gayyy" or something to that effect, but he mentioned regularly afterwards that it was absolutely amazing and would certainly be the highlight of his weekend. First gig, mission accomplished!

Jesus, we're not even halfway yet. So the five of us reflected on what had just happened and sat outside the woodland getting giggly and merry. Apparently Skunk Anansie were equally thrilling. Thomas snuck away to bed shortly after this, but we didn't mind, how could the night get better anyway? We must've sat by the woodlands for a solid hour, chatting to whoever was willing that came past. We finally decided to rescue Nikki from the dance tent - we later worked out she had danced almost non-stop for a solid twelve hours, absolutely incredible. If she ever brought out her own battery, the Duracell bunny would become but a distant, annoying memory. I'm relatively certain nothing of note happened on the way back to the tent, but poor Clare was a mere shadow of her former self by this point, booze can do that I hear. So, we sat in the biggest tent we had, continuing with the liquor while Clare started calling us 'Shitboxes' and whatever other compound curse words she could come up with. We had another tequila slammer and it was like we had just pressed the power button on Clare - the second she drank it, down she went, Clare.exe had crashed. Although she was still capable of speech on some level, we decided to call it a night.

We had quite the sleep the next day and no wonder. But once again, as if by magic, my hangover vanished within minutes, I think I slept through it. The weather today was dull, which to be honest was very much welcomed, none of us thought we'd have survived another day in that heat. The afternoon was essentially spent killing time until everyone picked up their pieces and put them together, so I decided to brave the showers. I may well have skipped the entire queue and not noticed, but oh well, it was a hot power shower and it set me up perfectly for the day ahead. I got back and Lyndsay and Thomas had come up with some solutions to the heat problem, including lying behind someone else's tent and stealing the shade. We all chilled for a little bit, probably got some lunch at some point. Lyndsay decided she'd grab a shower too, so the other five of us set off for ding ding round three.

This was obviously taken on a brighter day

We had one band at least two of us wanted to see, but we had some time to kill beforehand, so I got myself a turkey leg, the sauce wasn't very nice and was very messy, but the turkey itself was lovely. We also got a Ferrero Rocher milkshake which was absolutely out of this world, tasted just like the real thing. Two guys in full zombie makeup were floating around and got a milkshake too. I noticed the words 'The Bloodshake Chorus' on the back of one of their shirts. The Bloodshake Chorus were a band that were playing later. He made a joke about my turkey leg and I just kind of laughed, didn't say much, my first of two regrets at this festival. The time was approaching 6pm, it was almost time for Alabama 3. As anyone who knows me personally will know all too well, I'm currently enjoying The Sopranos for the first time and just before leaving for the festival had checked out the theme song Woke Up This Morning by, you guessed it, Alabama 3. The Bearded Theory program outright made mention of this, so I was very much expecting and hoping they would play it. They were a very unusual band - there was one guy dressed like a reverend; a guy stood right at the front of the stage with his arms folded looking very security among tons of other weird shit. I thought at the time "That security guy has to be part of the show" and I later found out that he indeed is, his name is The Book of Love and the reverend guy is called The Very Reverend Dr. D. Wayne Love (First Minister of the First Presleyterian Church of Elvis The Divine (UK)). I'm not making this up. Had I known at the time that they are essentially a bunch of professional piss-takers aping Americana despite being from London and somehow making great music in the process, I think I would have enjoyed the show much more than I did (and I enjoyed it a good bit). The only lyrics I could make out from any of the songs was 'Johnny Cash' and I was sure I was mishearing it, but no, they have a song called Hello...I'm Johnny Cash, which I recommend.

Thomas decided to go look for Lyndsay, so he missed the climax of Alabama 3, a real shame. I strongly considered spinning him some story about how the band invited me up on stage before proceeding to resurrect James Gandolfini for a duet with me, but I didn't. The opening notes began to play, I turned to Clare and practically yelled "This is it!" in her face. I sparked up, cracked open a beer and began singing and dancing along to "GOT YOSELF A GUN, GOT YOSELF A GUN, GOT YOSELF A GUNNN!" It was another truly special moment and has allowed me a special bond with a show I'm loving to bits, I felt and feel very privileged to have seen this. Alabama 3 were going to be at the merchandise stand, signing things and chatting. I decided not to go see them, because all I would be able to say was "I'm currently loving The Sopranos, I don't really know you guys but thank you so much for playing the song!" and I'd wager they hear that at every gig they play. This was my second regret. Since coming home, I have checked out more of their music and I think it's fair to say I'm a fan of them now, to the point I want to see them again now that I 'get it'. They're one of the best kept secrets in music, like The National were before High Violet came out. Imagine Screamadelica but with more country twangs and piss-taking and you have an idea of what Alabama 3 sound like.

Before we had left, Clare, Lyndsay, Thomas and I had seen a music video by The Fall on TV. I was aware of them, the others weren't, but we were all as perplexed and confused by what we'd just seen as each other. So, we wanted to see them, if only for five minutes to laugh and walk away. Before that though, Eileen and Nikki had come up with a great idea: we would all bring three of our maddest items of clothing, throw them all into a bag and pick three at random to wear all night, but we couldn't wear our own items. The others' items were in Nikki's car and we really wanted to do it as we'd put a lot of thought into it, so we did it without Eileen and Nikki. We did feel quite bad about it but we were worried they wouldn't do it. So, long story short, half an hour later I'm wearing a mullet wig and a centurion helmet; Clare is wearing a Militaires Sans Frontieres beret and a Mr T gold chain; Lyndsay is sporting a bright green wig and Thomas has sunnies and a black, glittery tutu on. He was initially reluctant to wear the tutu, but after seeing it on he said "Alright, I'll wear it. But if anyone takes their stuff off, I'm taking mine off" so that was us, set. Dunno what changed his mind, maybe realising that even with a tutu on he looked less ridiculous than some of us. As we walked towards the woodlands to see The Fall, some young girl behind us was apparently paranoid people were staring at her, so her mother said "Have you seen some of the people who come here? And you're worried about everyone staring at you" We laughed.

So the rebel, the centurion, Hazama from Blazblue and the black swan walked into the woodlands fifteen minutes late or so. As we walked past the queue of people leaving, we could hear "They were shit" and other insults. Oh dear. We got to the stage and sure enough, it wasn't great, but you could at least dance to it, we later decided people were being far too harsh. The queue to get out took twice as long as the one to get in! We genuinely felt sorry for The Fall that night and I'm even considering buying one of their albums by way of apology, poor Mark E. Smith got proper disrespected. I think Thomas headed to bed around this time and I found a Pink Panther onesie which I simply couldn't refuse. There was a new attraction called The Ship this year...maybe it wasn't new, but I certainly didn't remember it. A guy was playing dance music on what I assume was a laptop, the 'cannons' on the ship were firing, releasing smoke over everyone and best of all, there was a light show being projected onto the trees behind us. All sorts of weird and wonderful shapes graced the trees, including a naked woman moonwalking, no idea how they did that. We danced best we could, but some of us weren't keen on the music, it was incredibly repetitive and seemed to go on forever. So, Lyndsay and I decided to take some time out and went back to the tent to gather more supplies.

Just before heading back to regroup, I decided to go to the loo, still in full twat uniform. As I walked towards it, two girls walking alongside me approached me. One was clearly desperate to get back to her tent alone, the other one, not so much. "What's your name then? Biggus Dickus?" We had a Monty Python-flavoured laugh before she proceeded to teach me how to tell if someone's going to pull out of a high five. The key is watching their elbows apparently, who knew? I went to the loo and Caroline and her pal walked away. She shouted something at me, but I had already asked her to repeat herself a bunch of times, so to save time, I just shrugged. She shrugged back and walked away. I later worked out she had asked me if I had a wife, so I imagine my response was a bit confusing. Oh well! We met up with everyone and began dancing in front of The Ship again, only this time the DJ was one of the members of Alabama 3! This was the deciding factor in me checking them out properly, these tunes were much better, much more variety in beats and everything else. We met a guy called Sam who apparently hails from very close to us, we had a good chat before he vanished. Lyndsay reckoned I'd pulled since once I started talking to him, he talked to no one else. Go me?

No bright green lasers in this pic I'm afraid, we tried!

Nikki had described The Bloodshake Chorus to me on the first day, the next day I read about them in the program. They were described as "A rumbustious band of the undead, exhuming the classics of the Fifties and Sixties and re-animating them with a ghoulish twist, in a way you've never heard them played before" A band of zombies who play old classics? Where have you been all my life? Shut up and take my money, as they say. So, at midnight, we went to see them play. Holy crap, I was proper taken aback at just how good they were. We arrived and they were playing She's Not There by The Zombies, a fantastic start. We were stood just outside the Maui Waui tent where they were playing but could hear and see them fine. They next launched into a version of Bang Bang that wouldn't have sounded out of place on the soundtrack to Carnival of Souls, it had freaky circus motifs going on and it worked absolutely perfectly, these guys were competent and creative to say the least. This, sadly, was Clare's last night since she had to leave a day early, so we were very pleased that we were seeing such a good band. The atmosphere was electric, the singer handled the crowd like a pro and held notes for longer than you hear most accomplished singers. It was, in his words, "The first time there's ever been a moshpit to Del Shannon" They also did a Dolly Parton song, (Ghost) Riders in the Sky which they turned into a rock anthem somehow, before launching into possibly the best version of Sunny Afternoon I've ever heard, the crowd were but a blur during it. The lead singer said "This has to be one of the best gigs we've played in the past three years" which I'm pretty sure is professional language for "This is the best gig we've ever played". "I know we're at Bearded Theory, but tonight, we are Maui Waui!!" Unfortunately we needed the loo, so we had to walk away on the last song, a thumping cover of The House of the Rising Sun. See, I wished I had said to the guy "Hey man, I'm coming to your show later!" but oh well, if the band ever read this, they'll know they smashed it.

As this was Clare's last night, we headed back to the tent shortly after this. I was convinced we'd went to bed around 1:30am, but it was actually closer to 4am. No wonder I felt like death the next day when I had to run poor Clare to the train station. Thomas was kind enough to come along for moral support, or in case I couldn't find my way back. We were fine and Clare got her train. I had planned to come back and just mong out in the sun, but I couldn't sleep. Eileen and Nikki were up when we got back I think, then they headed into the fray for the final round. No pancakes left, so no bacon and maple syrup pancakes for me, I was livid. I later asked for just the bacon and syrup, but by then they'd ran out of bacon too, arrrgh! The pallet stage and its audience seemed to be much louder on this day for some reason, Sugarhill Gang must have a very strong following. There was a lot of chilling out and loafing around on this day, but it was both needed and deserved. Lyndsay and I took a wander into the main area to find presents for Clare and get some food. I got the best bacon toastie I've ever had in my life. We found presents for Clare and at one point walking past a busk stop I saw a kid playing a kazoo. Like the child I am, this made me immediately want a kazoo. We eventually found one, so back to the tent feeling satisfied it was. Thomas and Lyndsay laid in the shade catching some Zs and I will never be able to properly describe the desire to blow on that kazoo full pelt, but I restrained myself. After some recovery time, I donned my Slowpoke mask since Sunday's dress theme was Mobsters and Lobsters, gangsters and sea creatures essentially, and Slowpoke is half water type, so, that's...Anyway, I looked like pure nightmare fuel when the mask was combined with the Pink Panther onesie, but I went out like that anyway. One of our neighbours was leaving so he donated three cans of cider to us, which were very much appreciated. At one point a family took a photo with me. Felt kinda weird having a kid a foot from my pocket which had some seriously hard liquor in it, thinking I'm all family-friendly.

As I recall, not much happened between now and the final gig, Madness. We danced, we ate, but nothing worth noting. Oh, Lyndsay got the most overpriced, underwhelming lamb kebab of all time. We were to meet up with Eileen and Nikki next to the ice cream van by the pallet stage, but by the time Madness came on, it was far too packed to see anyone, not even an idiot in a bright pink monstrosity of a costume. I hate to say it, but Madness were actually one of the more underwhelming performances. Suggs himself sounded like a drunken karaoke singer, we all later agreed. But the final three songs were magical, it has to be said - It Must Be Love; Our House and House of Fun. During the last song, giant balloons were released and the farewell firework display began. It was fantastic, but Lyndsay and I got firework ash in our eyes. It was a good show, don't get me wrong, but it was my least favourite, I even liked Dreadzone better. Afterwards we were determined to have a little dance, but all of the 'venues' were closed, so people had become so desperate they were dancing in front of a rodeo ride, seriously. We had agreed to go on some rides, so we did - a pretty fast ferris wheel and those flying chair things. I'm still in full Slowpoke regalia at this point and can hardly see a thing, I daren't imagine what the people below thought when they looked up and saw a bright pink...thing trying to fly for real.

This was our final night, so after a literal one-minute crazy dance in the tea tent, which was open 24 hours, we headed back to our tents. We kept trying to find Eileen and Nikki but couldn't, because we'd forgotten they were dressed up like lobsters. We eventually did, but they were far from partied out, so we headed back to the tent ourselves. We had hoped we'd all get an evening of sitting around getting deep, but not this time. I'd also hoped we'd get at least one photo with all of us. Ah well, that's the nature of the beast with festivals I suppose, there'll always be next year. I sat in Lyndsay and Thomas' tent for a while, we had a few drinks, then passed out for the final time at Bearded Theory.

We woke at around 11am the next day. It was gray, the campsite was empty, it felt quite surreal. We packed up our stuff and I moved it to the car - since dropping Clare off yesterday, I got a parking space right by the very front of the field, so it was a short trip. Eileen and Nikki said we could just go, but I insisted we'd help with their gargantuan tent, so that's what we did, share the burden and all that. We all exchanged hugs and hopped into the car. The journey back was very straightforward since I decided to just trust my sat nav alone, we made one stop and were home for around 6pm. Good God we were so exhausted. I dropped Lyndsay and Thomas off then popped into Clare's to drop her stuff off before going home, showering like there was a drought due and passing out in ecstasy, watching The Sopranos, naturally.

So now I have to sum it up, right? Well, it was very different from last year due to the extra people (having said that, I can't have been the only one who missed Sarah) but it was equally as incredible. Think we all feel better for it, to be reminded that there is some good in people, that people can come together and party without hurting anyone, it's a truly unique experience. Much like a holiday super-compressed into a single weekend. I have a couple of songs that to me will always remind me of this year's extravaganza. I don't expect anyone to listen to this playlist, it's purely for me and is, of course, based purely on what I consider the soundtrack to the weekend, I'm quite sure the others will have their own ideas. Til next time, peace!

Elbow - Weather to Fly

Cast - Guiding Star

Lykke Li - Little Bit

Lou Reed - Walk on the Wild Side

The Midnight - The Comeback Kid

The Beach Boys - God Only Knows

Jackie DeShannon - What the World Needs Now is Love

Alabama 3 - Woke Up This Morning

Lana Del Ray - Hit and Run

The Zombies - She's Not There

The Kinks - Sunny Afternoon

Madness - It Must Be Love

"So in looking to stray from the line

We decided instead

We should pull out the thread

That was stitching us into this tapestry vile

And why wouldn't you try?

Perfect weather to fly"

Guy Garvey

 

In a bit.

Unable To Stay, Unwilling To Leave

So just got back from the best (and only, so far) festival I've ever been to. It was good enough to deserve having a written account of how it all went down because I think all of us who were there would agree we made some memories none of us will want to forget. I'll not be bothering much with writing funny since the situations speak for themselves really. I will be omitting very tiny details but nothing that will change the overall direction of the story. Ok, here we go!

I originally didn't really feel up to going to Bearded Theory. I'm notoriously lazy (I prefer laidback!) and have a nasty habit of deciding at the last minute that I can't be bothered with the hassle of whatever I've to do. This very nearly happened, but in the end I came to the conclusion that I'd already bought my ticket and my girlfriend Clare had asked me almost a year ago if I wanted to go, so it would've been crazy unfair for me to back out just because I couldn't be arsed travelling. Maybe the fact that I see Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame when I hear 'festival' had something to do with it. I wasn't going somewhere full of French people where they throw tomatoes at ugly people.

On Wednesday, it was my late father's birthday and me and some of his friends had agreed to scatter his ashes on the shore. So that's what we did. The weather was typically Scottish which I actually thought was most fitting - it was never sunny before, why should today be any different? We scattered him to the sea and had a nice meal together before I headed to Clare's, since we had an early rise and a huge day ahead of us. We spent some time chatting with her dad over a drink or two and then watched some Children of Men before drifting off.

We woke at 5am having had very little sleep. As is the norm with travelling as you'll well know, rushing around desperately making sure nothing is being left behind is par for the course. We were off about five mins early and were at the station before we knew it. Once we got off the train, we jumped to Sainsbury's to get Irn Bru and fruit. As we stood at the bus station, an old colleague appeared. Now, two days before this, I'd sent an email round my whole work building inviting everyone out for a send-off drink, managing to refer to myself as a 'twat' in the same email and getting myself sacked. So it goes. Anyway, Chris appeared and was getting on the same bus, which I found to be a kind of freaky coincidence, but a welcome one. We chatted for a bit as we waited for Clare's sister Eileen to materialise, which of course she eventually did. After waiting an extra half hour or so to board the bus, we were off!

We managed to get two pairs of seats with a table in the middle of the Megabus, so we were chuffed. We each drifted in and out of consciousness and amused ourselves in our own ways, mines were to read an especially terrible free issue of NME and rediscover the amazing Massive Attack on my iPod. There was an old(er) woman on the bus who kept snoring herself awake, an Indian guy seriously named Abu who kept saying the F word over the phone and a blonde, possibly Swedish guy who looked like the bad guy from Blade Runner reading Franz Kefka who actually got up from his chair at one point on the road to pick up a single Rizla skin Clare had dropped off of the wet bus floor. Hello. We made one stop at somewhere or other, had a smoke, and were back on the road to Manchestuhhhhh.

When we got there, we hauled our bags around, looking for the car hire place. The heat was already pretty crazy. There were some crazy shops we saw on our way which I mentally noted to visit on the way back. We found the place I'd reserved the car from. A young blonde Manc girl called Chloe helped us. Turned out I needed two forms of ID...and I only had one. Fuck. I asked if she'd accept my festival ticket as a second form of ID. Nope. She said I could get a statement from my bank and asked if I knew Manchester. I said I didn't, beginning to feel pretty defeated and like I'd let the side down. Just then, Chloe whispered, "Let's see that ticket". She took it, looked around quickly, and said "I think I can accept this, but shhh". She had the choice of making or breaking our weekend right there and she went with making it. What a saint! Turned out she's a festival regular, so I think that worked to our advantage. After messing up literally right out of the gate, we were on the road again.

This was absolutely terrifying for me. I hate having to drive any car I don't have at least two weeks' practice with and this was a hire car, a diesel hire car! I made a fair few boo-boos on the way out of the city centre but once we got onto the country roads, we were all good in the hood. Trouble was we had no real idea where we were going, so we were using two phones and a sat nav to see us through. The sat nav died as we reached a weirdly-named little town called Cheadle. Uh oh. These problems are better solved after buying some alcohol and food, so that's what we did. We got back on the road and used Eileen's phone as our sat nav, which was actually better than the actual sat nav somehow. We kept having to phone the people we were meeting to get directions. Eventually we arrived in a sunny, grassy field with lots of trees, cars and people with dreadlocks. One particular hippie guided us into what was to be our spot, we got out and had a smoke to celebrate.

We lounged about for about 15 mins before we made our way to this pink flag thing that was to be our meeting point. The weather was absolutely stunning, not a cloud in the sky...could hardly breathe! Soon, I could see two figures in the distance, waving and dancing as they got closer. I remember thinking "I'm going to like these people", a sentiment I later told them to their faces. These were Nikki and Sarah, Eileen's friends. They were immediately very warm and welcoming, handshakes and hugs were being given out like they were going out of fashion. We got our wrist bands and walked all of 30 seconds to our campsite. Nikki and Sarah had already set everything up for us! We sat in these blow-up lounger things, drinking beer, smoking away and getting to know one another. Our 'neighbour' Christie (Chrissie?) approached, sat with us and chatted for a while. She was from Scotland too but had shed her accent almost completely. By this point we were all feeling fired up and ready to go, so off we went!

We walked down lanes of tents, chairs, mats and hippies. There were a lot of kids around as it's a family-friendly festival, which put me at ease a little. Silly me. As we approached the 'arena', I looked up and all of a sudden some chav prick was a foot from my face. I stopped and dodged and he walked past. This was to be the closest we came to an incident the entire weekend. Eileen hadn't seen this happen, something we all later concurred was a good thing. We walked around stalls. Stalls with sunglasses, homemade rugs, shirts, hoodies, masks, wigs, toys and other assorted knick knacks soaked in tye dye. There were rides, food stalls, drink stalls, branch sculptures of Star Wars characters, face painting tents, tarot card readings, an 'earth' area (with two very suggestive giant mushrooms either side of the sign), a gypsy caravan, busk stops where you can rest and listen to a busker, or have a wee jam yourself. It went on and on. I remember asking one ten year old stall runner if a onesie I was convinced was Stimpy was indeed Stimpy. He turned slowly, looked at the onesie, returned to me with a face of absolute disdain and uttered the immortal words with as much dryness as he could muster: "I think that's supposed to be a dragon". Oh. Ok then.

We eventually stopped outside the main stage bar. At this point Nikki and Sarah asked how I was enjoying myself. I was pretty blitzed by this point so I was full of love and hopes for the future. They reciprocated actually, seemed up for going again next year - I'd only been there about 2 hours! Someone mentioned the number seventeen, which lead to all five of us bursting into an impromptu version of I Saw Her Standing There, which others joined in with. At these festivals they have nowadays, you tend to either create your own moments or just go with whatever moments manifest themselves and it's fucking amazing! When we were in the bar, Eileen tricked me into asking for a Slowpoke. "Slowpoke? That's a type of Pokémon," said the barman. Fucking yes!

It began to get dark, so we went for another walk towards the woodlands. We wound up parking our arses outside a set of portaloos and a gypsy caravan which we guessed would offer palm readings or whatever. Nikki later told us that it didn't, but she didn't elaborate much further. We sat with two hip flasks full of Jagermeister and Sarah came up with the idea of picking one person each who we thought deserved a shot of Jager, then calling them over. This lead to a guy named Josh sitting between Sarah and I in our little circle - I remember having a long discussion with him about The Derby Ram. Another guy with two luminescent hula hoops joined us for a bit too, he said each of his hula hoops cost him £60. Aye, ok. We walked to the woodlands and quickly decided it wasn't for us, so we went back. Which is a shame as we probably missed Turin Brakes as a result. As we wandered around the food stalls, Clare and Sarah got on this giant slingshot thing that cost £12.50 each to ride...god damn. They did this drunk too. Nutters.

I decided I wanted something to eat, so I wandered off for a munch after promising not to speak to any strange stoners. I don't know how it happened but I ended up going into the hall of mirrors? Was as underwhelming as I expected and some lady kept mirroring (ha ha) what I was doing, so I got out of there. I spent about half an hour trying to find salt for the chips I bought. As we walked back exploring some more, I decided I wasn't waiting in no bloody queue for a piss, so I hopped it over the fence. Trouble was I didn't see the massive hole on the other side of the fence because of the darkness. I folded like an accordion, landing in nettles, thorns and Christ knows what else. Nikki and Clare stood in hysterics as a steward looked at me like the naughty but thick kid at school. I sheepishly said sorry and did a walk of shame. Clare and I somehow ended up getting separated from the others, so we drunkenly stumbled through the darkness on the way back to our tent. By some miracle, we found it and fell asleep on the canvas (so pretty much on the grass).

We were woken by the sound of the others in the morning. They'd slept between two and four hours...As we gathered ourselves, our neighbours were sat soaking up the sun and the weed. Christie's husband (I think?) was called Matthew and in his own words, looked like his mum had been knocked up by a Portuguese milkman. He offered us some stuff then said our answer for us immediately after: 'too early'. The heat was absolutely unbareable and the tents had as much oxygen as the centre of a doughnut (it was this way for the whole festival), so I grabbed a bag of melted ice and gave myself a bath. This drew some looks. Nikki made us all some breakfast of bacon, sausages, mushrooms, rolls etc. We put some makeup and glitter on to add a bit of pizazz to our faces. I remember lounging back hardcore enough to see a giant, black cloud slither across the clear blue sky. I sat, captivated, hoping it wouldn't rain. It didn't. This happened again the next day. Clare, Nikki and I all felt a bit dodgy at this point. After some chill/nap time, we headed back into the frenzy feeling refreshed and ready for action.

The people at the festival were unlike any other group of people I knew. None of them could care less what anyone thought of them, they went with what they felt and did what they pleased, but never to the detriment of others. We felt like we fitted right in with our makeup and sunglasses, which also served to hide our undoubtedly bloodshot eyes. Clare and I split from the others as we had a wander around the stalls. We saw all kinds of stuff, including the freakiest mask I think I've ever seen. In some kind of twisted genius sort of way, I combined the mask with an equally mental wig that just made me look like the ultimate psychopath. I also finally got a decent pair of sunnies and an enormous pair. When Clare took the giant pair to the stall owner, he said they were the most tried-on pair and he knew it would take someone very special to eventually buy them. Clare tried to say this was me since she was buying them for me, but no, I think she gets that credit. The shop owner was absolutely off his face, but very nice and still somehow intelligible. We made our way back to the main stage and sat together, some burly lads sat with us for a while too. Everyone was so chill. I remember thinking "If you wanted, you could come here with a sign saying 'Free Love' and I guarantee you'd get it, whatever 'it' happens to be" and I stand by that. Be safe kids. Clare and I decided to go back to the tent, for my jacket possibly? Not sure. I did take that off whenever we were sat down, by the way.

We sauntered back and decided that since we'd walked all that way, we could at least sit and have a smoke before rejoining with the others. So that's what we did. Clare had a lie down while I sat with the neighbours, chatting and puffing away. Christie decided that I looked like Jarvis Cocker because of my sunglasses, leather jacket and whatever else, so from that point on our neighbours called me Jarvis. I wasn't huge on the nickname, but I've had worse ('Mr Bond' not being one of them) so I let them have it. At some point, an older guy wearing an Indian headress appeared with a very hippie-looking lady. This was Chief and Shirley. Shirley talked about her name a lot, saying she'd had many nicknames like Curley Wurley Shirley (because she's a hairdresser) and said she almost married a man called Mr. Burley, but said that would've been basically social suicide. Just imagine a thick Manchester accent, stoned, drawling, constantly repeating different variations of Curley Wurley Shirley Burley. I was fucking wetting myself. Matthew owned a mug with Mr Grumpy on it, which he kept the sugar for his tea in. At one point Christie asked "Where's Mr Grumpy?". I could see it behind Matthew, so I pointed and said "Mr Grumpy's right there". There was an awkward moment of silence. "What was that?" said Matthew, not aggressively but clearly primed for action. I said it again, he looked behind him, saw the mug and fell into a fit of laughter, which I joined in on. That was a near one! Chief eventually broke out some stuff. I won't say what it was, but it was nothing too crazy - Clare and I partook and began making our way back to the woodlands to meet up with the others.

The journey back was certainly interesting. We both commented that we could feel our teeth, like our actual teeth had developed nerve endings or something. When we found the others in the woods, Eileen was not happy with us for taking so long. We explained what had happened then made our way out. On the way, Sarah spied a guy wearing braces and made conversation with him. This turned out to be Ormond, one of the most naturally happy people I've met in my puff and as Welsh as the day he was born. We hung for a bit before deciding to get some munchies, so Clare, Eileen and I flew solo to get some grub. They settled on chili cheese fries, which I refused to allow them to miss, they're pure angel breath - and I hate cheese! I settled on a zebra burger, because come on, how often are you going to get to eat that? Guess what? It was better than beef, by quite a lot actually. Sweet, tender and juicy...so good. I'm switching to zebra. After we discussed what the Chief had given us earlier, we decided to chance our arms and head back to see if we could get a bit more.

No joy. The neighbours were all away doing their own things. I later quite drunkenly and very embarrassingly, after some mostly self-imposed pressure, asked other neighbours if they knew where we could get some, which I heard them chatting about the next morning, seemingly unaware that it was the person right there in front of them. But they didn't. Oh well. We settled on sitting in the tent, drinking and smoking. Now, we had a case of Coors, a case of Kopparberg, a case of Stella, two litres of Jagermeister, two litres of vodka and tons more, so we had no shortage of, well, anything really! We sat and chatted away, wondering where the others were. I remember drunkenly reciting South Park songs in their entirety, word for word, since we had no radio or music of any kind. After a smoke or two, the two sisters were constantly collapsing into fits of laughter, which was nice to see. Eileen soon became a laughing air sofa, later simply melting into the air sofa altogether. Before too long, Nikki and Ormond appeared. They must've felt similar to us because they joined in and the atmosphere was just right. We only had a wind-up radio and didn't know how to change it, so we sat in a dark tent, using fairy lights and LEDs for light, listening to classical music, chewing the fat. At one point, I snuck off to get my mask and wig. I quietly approached the tent door, put my face right behind Nikki before Clare shouted her from outside. She quickly turned around, looked right into the mask, froze in pure terror for a second before unleashing the most blood-curdling scream of absolute horror I've ever had the pleasure of causing in my life. How we laughed.

We chatted about some pretty deep things, some I don't remember and some I'm just keeping to myself. The others were worried about Sarah. I reassured them best I could that she could hold her own and was probably having the time of her life, which I genuinely believed - I tried to say she could hold her own, but typically of me, my compliment was so crazy verbose that what I was actually trying to say got lost somewhere in the sea of drunken bollocks I was talking. As predicted, Sarah soon came in like a hurricane. Turned out I was right, she'd held her own and had a great night, but was also worried about us. We did some pretty hilarious Home Alone impressions to the point all of us were in legitimate pain from laughing. When some joke about Ormond (I was convinced his name was Almond, that's how it sounded to me with Nikki and Sarah's accents) getting singed went on for about ten minutes, Clare and I decided to call it a night. Keep the change, ya filthy animal.

What you see above is what our campsite looked like by the end of the next afternoon. I'd drunkenly rolled off the air bed and slept on the canvas, directly on the grass, again, so I was feeling rough, again. Eileen decided to help the situation by having a cheeky fart in her tent, which Nikki described as smelling like she'd brought a dead animal back to the tent. Sarah made breakfast for us this time, which we were much more open to than the day before, we were all starving. Later, Nikki smelled burning plastic and it wasn't coming from Eileen's direction, so we sprang into action and stopped the campsite from going on fire via a fence holder block thing and pretty much saved the entire festival, obviously. We all had our jobs. Clare, Eileen, Nikki and Sarah packed up their stuff and began dismantling the tents, table and other equipment. I sat and rolled cigarettes. As I was doing this, I heard the neighbour across the way saying he needed some baccy, but didn't know where to get it or how much it would be. Realising I had an unopened pack, I decided to sell it to him for £3 (I happily took £2.80) to save him the bother. They were so suspicious of it, asking where it came from etc. despite it being an unopened pack of Golden Virginia bought in a corner shop in Scotland, but were extremely grateful when they realised that it was what it was, tobacco. After a gruelling two hours, we had packed everything up and it was in the car, saving us an utterly Hellish job the next day. Time for the final round.

I had my heart set on getting Slowpoke painted onto my face, as I'd finally become fully comfortable and at ease with my surroundings. Poor long-suffering Clare got dragged around the entire festival as we looked for somewhere that did face paints. Who'd have thought such a thing would be so hard to find all of a sudden? We saw the stall owner who sold me the giant sunnies - I had said, as a joke, that they could do with some adjusting. He then explained how he couldn't for about five minutes...I said I was joking every time he stopped speaking but he just kept going. When we finally did find someone to paint my face, she said she didn't really do things like what I wanted. Raging. We decided to buy a small, cheap pack of makeup and Clare was going to do the design for me. This made my whole day already. Before this, I had found another pair of sunnies, almost identical to the ones I'd bought before, but with Ray Ban on them. £5, obviously fake, I didn't care. Ormond was with us too as we sat outside what everyone called the dance tent, getting my makeup applied. Nikki said "Oh we have your tobacco by the way" "Oh? I left a pack? Result!" She threw me an almost full 50g pouch of baccy. This wasn't mine. As it turned out, when we had been sat together outside the dance tent earlier, Nikki had spotted this pouch of baccy by where I had been sitting and assumed it was mine, so took it. "That's karma, that" she said. I hoped so. That was more baccy than I'd bought for the whole festival!

I absolutely did not want to miss From The Jam. There were a good few well-known bands and artists playing at the festival, but they were the only one I wouldn't forgive myself if I missed. By yet another cool coincidence, I didn't even know they were playing, but of the four shirts I'd packed, one of them was my Jam shirt! So, when we heard the sound of Town Called Malice begin, we quickly paced towards the main stage. Within seconds, I was consumed by the pure energy and vigour of the performance and began dancing and singing like a man possessed. I'm later told some girl behind me said "He has a nice little wiggle, doesn't he?" as I danced away. Huh. Halfway through their set, a guy next to me said "You're really feeling this, aren't you mate?" and we all rocked our wee hearts out. The set was about an hour long, which was absolutely perfect as far as we were concerned, me especially as my voice was just about ready to give out altogether. We sat and rested nearby for a while as Squeeze played and massive flamethrowers sprayed across the sky from the stage, you could feel the heat from them from about 30ft away! I chatted about The Milk amongst other Welsh things with Ormond (he knows who they are!). Sarah got some munch from this barbeque place, which was right next to a Persian foods stall, and I got my chili cheese fries at last. This was the third time in two days I'd been served by the same girl at the food stall, I made a point of not going back again or she might get the wrong idea. She was really cool though it has to be said.

No I didn't Clare!

We began gently winding down now as the sun slowly set on our unforgettable adventure. This involved standing outside a stall, about ten of us captivated by this box of small, hand-made bobbleheads. They had everything, from elephants, to cows, to worms, to armadillos. Ten of us stood playing with these things for about half an hour. I left with Army the armadillo (present from Eileen), Watermelon Cat and Autistic Bumblebee (amazingly, it wasn't me who came up with this name for the bee) from Clare. She and I later got on one of those spinning chair rides that goes up really high. She was terrified, I was loving it, screaming along to Baby Got Back which I could hear from the rodeo fifty feet below. We walked around some before all joining up again and heading to the Maui Waui tent for one last hurrah.

Some really cool ska/reggae fusion band called King Porter Stomp. Unusual name but look them up, they were brilliant. The two burly lads we'd met the day before by the main stage made one more appearance and joined up with us at this point. I had told myself earlier I was too tired to dance anymore but wouldn't you know it, all six of us wound up dancing our hearts out to the brass and verve of the band we were watching, you couldn't not dance to this stuff! I did eventually check out that suggestive Earth Area by the way. It was just a spiral maze thing made out of multicoloured wire for the 'hedges', but I did indeed see one or two little caps lying on the grass. I shortly after met and spoke to a giant Pikachu. We took one special photo before I described to them two very specific photos I wanted to get, which ended up being an absolute gut laugh because in spite of my best efforts, the pic turned out nothing like what I wanted. Oh well.

This was it, the end. We all walked back to the cars in a state of pure bittersweet melancholia. Ormond had been great the entire time, but as you should always be, I was wary...as nice as someone is, you just never know. I had nothing to worry about, he'd been shooting straight with us the entire time, an absolute gent and a real dude to party with. He said bye to us all as Nikki and Sarah drove the car out into the night. We followed her on foot, having a mobile disco in the headlights. I remember someone quoting Baby Wants to Ride, which inflated my ego, because that was one acid house track I actually do know (it's by Frankie Knuckles)! When we found our car, we faffed about for about 15 mins before we finally left Bearded Theory. I followed Nikki in the hire car along the motorway, neither of us speeding or doing anything stupid, in perfect synchronicity. Clare and Eileen were shitting themselves the entire time, bless them. I was for the first ten mins or so before settling into it, listening to every timeless 80s classic you can name on Absolute 80s. We had to turn the radio down every time the DJ began his drivelling though, in case Eileen heard the Formula One results before she'd seen it. We stopped at a McDonalds for a brief break, a banana milkshake and a bottle of water at 1:16am then drove back through some pretty intense fog towards Sarah's house. We said bye to her then went to Nikki and Sarah's folks' house with Nikki. What a beautiful house they have. We chatted for a bit in the kitchen before retiring.

The next morning, we felt like death again, the most up to that point. We met the parents, had a brew, some toast, I was my usual overcareful self with regard to getting the hire car back to Manchester in one piece. We left with about four sets of directions and I'm pleased to report that within half an hour, the car was back with the rental company without a scratch and we wandered the Arndale shopping centre (which was a massive disappointment actually, I expected something colossal but the Entertainment Exchange in Glasgow is bigger!). Then we were back on the bus. There were two openly gay football hooligans in front of us who I watched scroll through Facebook on their phones, pressing on every status they saw without so much as a smirk as they reacted with the 'Haha' emoticon, and a guy who was so lustfully desperate to listen to the audiobook of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy that he held his phone in front of his laptop, using bluetooth, for an hour while it downloaded. I made Clare listen to an obscure, shall we say, track called Fisherman's Horizon while we drove through the Scottish hills. She loved it. Clare and I said bye to Eileen before getting our train home. The train stopped dead halfway along the route as rain pissed down and two young neds annoyed the piss out of the whole carriage for half an hour. Yep, we were definitely home.


In summary, I had the best time of my life possibly, it's at least up there with walking the streets of Vegas out of my mind. I have never known myself to have such a long, consistent streak of good luck but that's all our weekend was, one big lucky break. I'm not religious by any stretch, but I can't help but notice the timing of all that luck - immediately after putting my father to rest. I mentioned this train of thought to Sarah on the last night, sat outside the dance tent, completely consumed with this concept. I think he's at peace now, which means I'm at peace and have a beautiful, sunny life to look forward to from hereon in. I have just this second found out this weekend documented was Memorial Weekend. Holy fuck. Anyway, next year is the tenth anniversary of the festival, so we're expecting something pretty mental and we plan to take a larger group this time. I can't wait. Oh, I'm also going to apply to perform a chillstep set at the next festival, so we'll see what the future holds for DJ Slowpoke. Thank you for the good times, everyone at the festival. I miss you all like crazy already. In a bit.

Inertia Creeps

Ok. For a blog named (and URLed (is that a thing?)) for Massive Attack songs, I've done very little in the way of talking about the band. This is pretty inexcusable, I reckon. They're one of my absolute favourites and have been for a short while now, and deservedly so, in my humblest of opinions. Fucking Nicki Minaj man, seriously, naming one of her songs Massive Attack, she knew full well what she was doing and should be shot as such. Anyway, that's a thing, let's go on a little journey back in time...

Blue Lines, the debut album to end them all. What are blue lines? Fucked if I know, but when you've got an album of this calibre, who cares? The party begins with Safe From Harm, a funky singalong with the impeccable (at the time) vocals of Shara Nelson, before she went and stalked Pete Tong and all that stuff happened. That's the beauty of Blue Lines actually, it's an extremely versatile album with something for everyone on there. For a bassy trip-hop band, the fact that their music can be played at parties - which does happen, I've read stories - says a lot about how workable their music is. "I was lookin back to see if you were looking back at me to see me looking back at you" is also, somehow, a really good lyric I think, from one of the men who make it all happen, Robert Del Naja aka 3D.

The album also has one of MA's most famous songs, Unfinished Sympathy. This is an absolute classic that will never get old and I reckon one of the best songs of all time. Shara Nelson sings again on this one and she couldn't have done it any better, truly. Play this one at my funeral please.

Horace Andy, an old reggae master, guests with the band on every album they've released to date. His voice is an acquired taste...well I think so anyway, I know a lot of people say "Wow, what a voice!" right away, but I personally didn't. He has a few choice cuts on here, One Love (which samples You Know, You Know by The Mahavishnu Orchestra, another great song incidentally) being one, ha ha ha...and Hymn Of The Big Wheel, one of my top songs from Blue Lines. The chorus line is one of brilliance and simplicity too "One man struggles, while another relaxes" Ain't that the truth...Finally, interesting coincidence: four of the songs on the album are suspiciously close in length to 4:20...

Key Cuts: Safe From Harm; One Love; Be Thankful For What You've Got; Unfinished Sympathy; Daydreaming; Hymn Of The Big Wheel

Now we come to the freshest album for me, I only got it two weeks ago. Protection seems to pick up exactly where Blue Lines left off. I'm not entirely sure what I mean by that but it just feels like a worthy followup. So, I bought the album in HMV and left it unopened for a day. Then by fate (?) my friend was coming down from Glasgow for a visit. So, we did our usual and cruised. I stuck this on and we were both encapsulated by the opening titular track. She made fun of the second track, saying it sounded like it belonged on the Scooby Doo movie soundtrack, which I've managed to unhear. Whew. But when the album was finished, it was her, not me, who asked to hear it again. This was pleasing!

So, Shara Nelson left Massive Attack for Protection, who was replaced by Tracey Thorn, a woman I am wary of to say the least. But even I must admit she did a stellar job on her two songs here. As my mate's mum once said about her, "She really is Everything But The Girl". Anyway, Shara's replacement began the MA tradition of having a new guest vocalist on every album, with a little cameo from a second guest singer too, in this case it's Nicolette on track Three. This might be my current favourite from Protection, I just love her voice and the whole theme of the song, which is basically wishing you could have the pure, innocent mind of a child again while retaining the mental experience you have. Basically, all of the wisdom, with none of the knowledge. Think Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, before Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Genius.

Horace Andy is back again too. The rapping present on Blue Lines makes a welcome return too, especially on aforementioned track number two: Karmacoma. Tricky left Massive after this album to pursue his soon-to-be very successful solo career sadly, but his swansong here is a fitting one. Karmacoma is, apart from a very cool-titled song, a brilliant example of Tricky's inimitable vocals and wacky hip hop rhymes. Seriously, the band has something for everyone.

Key Cuts: Protection; Karmacoma; Three; Sly; Heat Miser

Here we are. The greatest of them all. This is where my love affair with the band started...I was watching a shitload of House episodes to kill time before flying to Arizona. Quite a big fan of that show, I was. I went hunting for the theme song one day to use in a comedy album, which was of course Teardrop by Massive Attack. For some reason, I kept going back to this song, drawn to it like a moth to the flame, at no point being able to identify exactly why. One morning, I hadn't slept all night for some reason. I decided to find some new music to keep me busy. I stumbled onto...I think it was by Q...the 50 best British albums of all time and I picked out an album by The Beta Band and I also spied Mezzanine. "Who are these guys, man?" I decided to give another song by them a go, another single from this album, Angel. This was unlike anything I'd ever heard before and I was livid that I hadn't tried it before, it was everything I'd ever wanted in a band. That may sound extreme but I really mean it! I listen to a lot of...spacey...music, like The Amorphous Androgynous, The Mahavishnu Orchestra, La Femme, Stumbleine, Gorillaz (kinda count), but none of them quite did what Angel was doing. I was blown away to say the least. Later, in Arizona, I bought this album as a parting gift for a friend, but before I gave it to her, we had a little listen in the car. Holy. Fuck. Nothing, and I mean nothing, had ever moved me like this before, it was sheer Heaven, especially 'in the glow'.

So here we are today, I'm a massive (ha ha) fan of this band and that isn't going to change. Anyway! Enough about me. Mezzanine is sheer paranoia in music form and there isn't a bad song on it. One of my favourite things about the band is that they never explicitly state their stance on the connotations of their music, like drugs, sex, etc. I've no idea what they're up to at any point and I love them all the more for it. Elizabeth Fraser of Cocteau Twins is the guest this time around and what a job she does on Teardrop. She also does great on the druggy weirdness of Black Milk, which this blog is named after, the abysmal redux version Black Melt. Skip that, honestly, it's dire. Her crowning moment will be discussed in a bit though. Horace Andy delivers the goods again too, Angel may be his magnum opus, though Man Next Door (which, thematically, is the album's paranoid centrepiece for me) is also well worth a listen. The most interesting 'cameo' of them all is on Mezzanine in the form of Sarah Jay singing on Dissolved Girl, the soundtrack to the angriest sex you've ever had. That song's worth hearing just for the explosion of guitars in the middle, gets me headbanging every time - and I'm really not the headbanging type.

I'd like to dedicate a paragraph to the album's unofficial closer, Group Four. Now, an alternate version of Exchange which appears midway through the album as the first chance to rest that you get, with Horace Andy singing over it is actually the final track, but fuck that, Group Four is Mezzanine's true ending. Elizabeth Fraser and 3D duet on one of the greatest songs ever recorded. I genuinely struggle to believe human beings created it, it's so...perfect. Everything is as it should be, in its right place. Every element of the album comes together in a jaw-dropping climax, something finally gives and there's a nuke of guitars, distortion, drums and rushing vocals and the whole thing just gets faster...and faster, and faster, and faster, until it's all over and you feel absolutely exhausted. Please, if you listen to no other Massive Attack song in your life, make it Group Four.

I should point out that I played Angel for a friend semi-recently (I really need to start using names...) and he said it didn't do anything for him. I spent a while trying to work out why and I got my answer. It was listened to on a laptop, no bass whatsoever. You must listen to this stuff with a good bass output, bass is one of MA's key ingredients and without it, the effect just won't work. Just a heads up. Top five albums ever, Mezzanine.

Key Cuts: The whole thing. No? Ok...Angel; Teardrop; Inertia Creeps; Dissolved Girl; Mezzanine; Group Four.

Isn't that a brilliant cover? Anyway I'm going to be brief with 100th Window as I'm still to fully digest it, it's not my favourite of the albums. I have heard it all the way through twice and while it's still brilliant, it's just so inferior to all that preceded it. Sinead O'Connor is the guest, she does a terrific job on two of my favourites from 100th Window: A Prayer For England and What Your Soul Sings, the first post on here is named for that song, we have officially come full circle!

This is a solo project from 3D essentially, which is where the problem lies I think. My main issue with the album is that it feels so...inhuman, detached, electronic. No organic instruments that I can remember which just kills the whole thing for me. Horace Andy does fine, Del Naja/3D does fine too, but it's just not a highlight for me. Yet.

Key Cuts: Future Proof; What Your Soul Sings; Butterfly Caught; A Prayer For England; Small Time Shot Away; Antistar....hey, maybe I like this album more than I thought, I love all of these tunes. Ha.

Well, here we are, the present day. I haven't heard Heligoland in full yet, but I have heard Paradise Circus and Flat Of The Blade, which is interesting for two reasons: it has Guy Garvey on vocals, and the song makes you feel physically sick, literally. It's so jarring. Guess you can love that or hate it. Paradise Circus is amazing, by the way. So hypnotic and...sexy. Give that a go for sure. Massive Attack are in studio recording their next album as I write this and it will herald the return of Tricky!! Great things are coming, friends. I should say here, Daddy G (forgotten his real name) is the second half of MA at the moment and I haven't mentioned him once. He's great. Ok I need to leave soon so let's leave it there. I've taken the liberty of crafting a little playlist if I've caught your interest, I hope you'll at least give one tune a go. Here's to Massive Attack, one of the greatest bands of all time.

1. Safe From Harm
2. Teardrop
3. Three
4. Angel
5. Protection
6. Be Thankful For What You've Got
7. Karmacoma
8. What Your Soul Sings
9. I Against I
10. Dissolved Girl
11. Unfinished Sympathy
12. Butterfly Caught
13. Daydreaming
14. Paradise Circus
15. Sly
16. Bullet Boy
17. Heat Miser
18. Hymn Of The Big Wheel
19. Mezzanine
20. Group Four