Week Commencing: 19/7/04
Welcome,
We're going to resume normal service this week, after a barrage of emails (OK, there were only three of them) suggesting that I harp on too much these days and don't get to the nitty gritty of what the 'Weekly Editorial' is meant to constitute. So, without further senseless chatter...
... Actually, I lie, time for some more sidetracking - just heard the UK's annual Mercury Music Prize nominations; let's look at them. Basement Jaxx - 'Kish Kash' / Belle & Sebastian - 'Dear Catastrophe Waitress' / Franz Ferdinand - 'Franz Ferdinand' / Jamelia - 'Thank You' / Keane - 'Hopes And Fears' / Snow Patrol - 'Final Straw' / Joss Stone - 'The Soul Sessions' / The Streets - 'A Grand Don't Come For Free' / Ty - 'Upwards' / Amy Winehouse - 'Frank' / Robert Wyatt - 'Cuckooland' / The Zutons - 'Who Killed...The Zutons'.
Some corking acts, but fairly pedestrian/predictable a selection, yes? Let us know your thoughts, and who you'd have put in there instead: theissue@rockfeedback.com - your verdict printed here next week - speaking of which...
The Issue: A fortnight ago, we asked you to share with the world, rockfeedback acting as your medium/rostrum, festival traumas that you've incurred. Naturally, after wading through the 'Oh, those actually aren't that traumatic' ones (i.e. 90% of them), we got to two devilishly disconcerting ones (whether true or not, we don't care). Demonstrations, below.
'Of course, my worst, most catastrophic festival encounter occurred on my first ever attendance to one of the bigger events, naivety getting the better of me. Glastonbury. I was only 17 and I had just broken up with my boyfriend the day before. I was distraught but determined not to have it dampen my weekend.
The trouble - I was quite new to these festivals. So, in a chemical, drunken haze, I embraced everything - I rambled the site extensively until my feet were covered in blisters, made friends with random new-age stoners, and saw f**k-all bands in the process. It culminated in an evening spent in the Healing Field. I consumed far too much, and met a naked hippie called Dave. All fine.
But. I woke up the next day in my tent. I rolled over, and saw Dave - still naked - lying next to me. 'Oh God,' I shook - 'I didn't sleep with that.' Yes, I soon found out, I had. Then, the true bombshell - I noticed a newly-acquired wooden ring on the third finger on my left hand. On the floor was a scrap of partially burnt paper anointing the 'spiritual' union of 'Jackie Stephens and Dave Richards'. I'd only gone and gotten married to this thing. Needless to say, I bolted out the tent, spent the rest of the weekend on the other side of the festival-site and never saw my 'husband' ever again. I thank drugs that I don't remember that honeymoon night.' Jackie Stephens, Barnstable, UK
Bloody hell. Here's one more.
'Mine was All Tomorrow's Parties 2002, home of weird bands with beards and chalets as living-quarters in place of tents. It was one of the weekends of my life - the line-up was phenomenal. But on the last night, it went wrong. My chalet of eight all decided to go to the beach for a 3am game of football, as you do at ATP, but when the ball was mercilessly kicked into the freezing ocean, it was my duty to fetch it (being drunk, I was probably too willing). When I re-emerged to shore, the bastards had run off.
25 long minutes of walking, drenched, later... I get back to what looks like our chalet, but it's a bit dark now, and I can't see properly. I knock on the door. No answer. Bastards. I can see a light on, though. They're taking the piss now. There's only one thing for it. I launched the football into the air, and with a defiant kick aimed for the window; it was only an air-floater... No chance of damage, but it would make a considerable racket, strong enough to announce my return, so they'd let me in.
Oops, the window smashed. I couldn't believe it, the noise was deafening. But, what the hell, we could all chip in and cover the cost - it's only a crappy window, right? Suddenly, I saw movement from the kitchen area where the light was on. A girl I'd never seen before in my life was looking at me terrified. A friend of hers joined her and began shouting profanities. It was at that point I realised I'd kicked a football into the wrong chalet. My grin vanished and I can safely say I've never run so fast in my life.' James Gillingham, Kent, UK
I'm perplexed that both of our tales involve rockfeedback readers getting themselves into states of bother on their own accord, and then running from their troubles. Face your challenges, people. Thanks for those, kids.
Alt UK Chart-action: Morrissey proves he's bigger than ever, and everyone else, by scoring another singles-hit with 'First Of The Gang To Die' at 6, Snow Patrol's re-release of 'Spitting Games' earns a more justified #23, the world's biggest new rock act Velvet Revolver scrape a lowly 35 with 'Slither', and Bloc Party have gone top-40 (38) with their 3rd 45, and debut on Wichita, 'Little Thoughts'. Woo-hoo! Outside the hotspot, Beta Band are 54 with 'Out-Side', while Phoenix and Radio 4 are 74 and 75 with 'Everything Is Everything' and 'Party Crashers', respectively. The two key new entries in the albums-chart are The Polyphonic Spree at 61 with their stunning, second record 'Together We're Heavy', and Dogs Die In Hot Cars at 44 with 'Please Describe Yourself'.
Gigs this week, London: the legendary Cheap Trick are back in town at the Shepherd's Bush Empire (Wed 21st; sold out); The Cooper Temple Clause go low-key by gracing the stage of the Garage in Highbury (Tue 20th; sold out); Brian Wilson begins his third/fourth (we can't remember) residency at London's Royal Festival Hall during the weekend (Sat/Sun 24-25th; sold out); Sons & Daughters and Archie Bronson Outfit are at the ICA (Thurs 22nd; sold out); noisy Japanese post-rockers Mono similarly line the ICA (Tue 20th; £10:00); and reformed Brit-rock types 3 Colours Red appear at the Garage on Thurs 22nd (£10:00).
The current rockfeedback playlist: the aforementioned Polyphonic Spree/'Together We're Heavy' LP is greater than we could have ever anticipated; The Hives' 'Tyrannosaurus Hives' is their most coherent/convincing full-length yet; and The Shins' 'Chutes Too Narrow' has somehow got back onto our stereo, even months after it was released. Damn those infectious pop nightmares from New Mexico.
Cheers for scanning; see you next week.