Live Earth - Wembley Stadium - 7/7/07
3/5
By: Alex Lee Thomson
We're all for saving the world and we all know it's bad to leave your telly on standby, but at some point during this barrel-scraping debacle one had to wonder whether this was the best way to raise money and spread awareness about climate change. Instead of creating a truly massive event such as a festival, something hinged on the idea of having truly great bands playing throughout the day, the organisers of Live Earth seemingly went around every retirement home in the country and timidly asked anybody who had been in a band to put their hands up. Even though the event was happening on the anniversary of the July bombings and while a certain sense of national pride was brewing for our Grand Prix team, we braved the public transport and went along for the show, partly because we wanted to laugh at Razorlight, partly because we wanted to see Madonna before we died, and partly, yeah, because we do kind of like planet Earth. No breathable atmosphere means no more festivals, doesn't it? And we're not having that... and although you know a Glastonbury-like party with proper-length performances called something like 'The Don't Put Your Telly On Standby Festival' might have been a better idea, we nevertheless settled back into the surprisingly sunny comfort of Al Gore's show.
Rather excitingly the proceedings were opened by Genesis, a band who in some sense we're sure everyone has time for, deep down, even if delving in to your surface memory reveals only that you judge them to be pretty pants. Try the pre-Phil Collins 'The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway' if you don't believe us. Yet this was a far cry from anything that electrifying. I knew the songs, and Genesis had a lot to choose from, but I didn't recognise the band performing them. Surely this was my drunken uncle up on stage, clenching his fists and bending over as though in pain, looking more like an AC/DC cover band than a national treasure? Still, treasured they were regardless.
Onwards to Razorlight and indeed the laughter ensuing, a self-proclaimed prophet leading a bunch of guys who looked embarrassed to even be there. They seemed more intent on bitching about the sound problems than the matter at hand, which wasn't their massively below par songs, but trying to save this ball of rock we all live on. Razorlight aren't a great band by any standards, but as the sun got all sticky their songs seemed to at least serve a purpose - that of putting us into such a musical depression that they ensured that whatever acts were to follow, we certainly couldn't get any worse off.
And so, luckily, to Snow Patrol. Maybe it's just the post-Razorlight effect, but I happen to think they're smegging ace today. Gary Lightbody's vocals are being strained and hushed more than I'd like, but still, they've got a few incredible albums to choose songs from and though only the customary three were heard, they were three stadium rock corkers. Even I danced around a bit, slightly giddy on the bottle of plonk I'd scraped past security and we were even, dare I say, beginning to enjoy ourselves, despite the impending doom that will befall our green and pleasant land. Snow Patrol today sounded bigger than U2 without even trying to be - that effortless size coming from guitar bashing of the finest standard and soaring across the fancy new Wembley stadium.
Bit of a surprise when David Gray and Damien Rice perched themselves at the end of the stage and played a tag-team split set that included some genuinely touching songs, especially from the sweet troubled soul of Rice, and made us pay something resembling attention (when at the new Wembley, it's difficult to focus on anything other than the sheer SIZE of the place). Kasabian, who tragically do nothing to boost the sense of occasion (although the fact they're looking comically more and more like The Who was a treat to behold) followed them and gave the mums 'n dads a chance to go and get a drink - a chance I took as Duran Duran came onstage, at which point I'd heard the expression "put your hands in the air", more than one too many times, and we decided ciders were needed. Lots of ciders.
We were back in place to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers finish a set full of songs that the public deem to be better than they in fact are before Bloc Party allowed us a chance to hum along with genuine abandon. The crowd by in large didn't know the songs, but those that did took the chance to thrash around at what was one of the band's biggest live appearances. 'Banquet' and the ever fantastic 'So Here We Are' ran wild with excitement and although there was as much commotion for their music as there would be around four old women trying to remember everybody's name in the Post Office, it nonetheless rose the standard for the day, showing the old timers how to make and play tremendous live music. Old timers who included Metallica, who were just embarrassing.
The only thing more incredible than seeing Spinal Tap live after years of adoration is realising that about 90% of the crowd didn't get the joke and had no idea who the band were. The spectacular decree of 'Stonehenge' was even more fun than anybody could have imagined, the gargantuan guitars and the imposing set dressing fronting one of the best fake-songs of all time. Oh, how Spinal Tap have had their problems; the death of many of their drummers, a diminishing fan base, not to mention that documentary ( or the fact they're disastrously fictitious), but none of it stood in their way of blowing Wembley to pieces - no doubt a consequence of having their amps turned up to 11. Yet, wretchedly, more people seemed to spark off James Blunt and his melodramatic musical diarrhoea, but hey-ho, such is the price of an occasion like this.
The Beastie Boys were slightly better than our humble party thought they'd be, all dressed in classy suits and hats, most likely to hide their greying hair. Yet we couldn't forget that these guys were as old as our dads, if not older, though definitely cooler. They've always been (wrongly) regarded by some as something of a novelty band, but at such an eclectic concert you just had to go with it, and with it we went, falling at the feet of 'Intergalactic'.
At this point it's probably worth mentioning again to turn off your televisions, and not just put them on standby... apparently you'd be impressed by how much energy we'd save if we all did it. I bet yours is on right now, and you're sat at your computer, so go turn it off and then come right back. And if you see a homeless person on the way, give them some money. That's an unrelated social problem, we know, but in for a penny...
We were right back, having ran home to turn all our lights off naturally, in time to catch the Foo Fighters - at which point it finally started to seem like a real event, their massive anthems belting out like gosh knows what and evoking the crowd for the first time to actually, really, enjoy themselves. Their set was longer than anybody else's, though short enough to not get bored of. The highlight of the day, and lightyears more fulfilling than the Pussycat Dolls.
Madonna is somebody I'd admired more for the way in which she has reinvented herself, always being at the forefront of each new wave of pop, than her actual music. She's one of those people whose songs you know almost word for word regardless of whether or not you own the albums and so there was a certain sense of majesty (if you will) to her arrival and as the children's choir, almost a trademark of the Madge show, appeared to the sound of military drums the whole of Wembley fell silent. In 'Hey You' she told us to change the world by loving ourselves, then others, then changing them, getting them to turn their tellies off and whatnot... if only she knew I'd already loved myself twice that day she wouldn't have made such a big deal of it. There is something strangely brilliant about somebody the age of my mum wearing a cocktail dress, looking quite hot in it, jumping up and down with an electric guitar saying things such as "come on you f**kers, let's change the world" - something surreal about it and yet ultimately inspiring. Genuinely. She even performed the one Madonna song we all actually liked, 'Ray Of Light', making us forget all about Paulo Nutini and Black Eyes Peas' lousy performances.
Nobody expected the components of Gogol Bordello to join Her Majesty on stage but somehow it worked, their combined version of 'La Isla Bonita' having us swaggering around, cider in hand, somewhat embarrassing ourselves but not giving two craps as we'd long since lost inhibition. With the idea of Romanian folk latching onto the intro of an Abba song firmly locked in our minds the rest of the night was spent cheering and clapping along with the rest of the masses, getting all excited and falling over ourselves with a sense of smug happiness.
All the mockery aside, this was about telling us something really quite simple: save the world's environment by just making small alterations to your life. We can all do something so save this h'yar planet of earth and water, lest we have to watch this rubbish every year. It seems a bit of a big demand, hence why they've called it 'The Big Ask', but you don't have to do much at all, and as they say, every little helps. We bet there's something switched on near you right now that doesn't need to be. Go turn it off, or burn forever in hell.
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