It’s fair to say I came to The Cure late. I remember sitting in a cinema circa 2000 when an advert for HP printers came on. I was trying desperately to learn the name of the song accompanying it, when I overheard someone say it was called “Pictures Of You”. I rushed straight out and bought the ‘Best Of’ album, and I’ve never looked back. Truly one of the most gifted and intelligent bands of our time, and, from what I’ve heard, Robert Smith is a consummate gentleman and every bit as good as Hendrix, but nobody knows it.
As ever I’m recovering from the night before so taking it easy until the bands begin around 5pm. The festival is pretty well organised, and my first which doesn’t have fields of muddy grass, but does have proper porta-cabin toilets. I expected green acres with filthy loos, but I’m greeted with a stage set in a car park. It’s not as bad as it sounds.
Day turns to night and once again the headliners take to their chosen arena, with the crowd more heavily packed than the previous night. It’s not as emotional as seeing The Stone Roses, but they certainly know how to play a great set. Robert Smiths stage chemistry is amazing too, and he engages well with the crowd, which I think artists don’t do enough of. He doesn’t play a couple of favourites, which I’m slightly disappointed at, but when you have that many songs to get through I’d imagine you can’t please everyone.
We stop off to see some naff DJ in the dance tent before calling it a night. In truth I’m becoming more and more jaded with DJ’s. Unless it’s a massive name like The Chemical Brothers or Daft Punk, I’m not very good at telling the tunes apart and everything just ends up sounding the same. At least live anyway. I’m just watching some dude twist some nobs and press some buttons with headphones on, which they always do with such melodrama. I’m sure you don’t need to flick that switch with such over the top gusto, then put your hand in the air to signal how amazing you are for pressing play. It’s just not as good as watching live bands. Unless it’s The Kooks.
The Cure
It’s fair to say I came to The Cure late. I remember sitting in a cinema circa 2000 when an advert for HP printers came on. I was trying desperately to learn the name of the song accompanying it, when I overheard someone say it was called “Pictures Of You”. I rushed straight out and bought the ‘Best Of’ album, and I’ve never looked back. Truly one of the most gifted and intelligent bands of our time, and, from what I’ve heard, Robert Smith is a consummate gentleman and every bit as good as Hendrix, but nobody knows it.
As ever I’m recovering from the night before so taking it easy until the bands begin around 5pm. The festival is pretty well organised, and my first which doesn’t have fields of muddy grass, but does have proper porta-cabin toilets. I expected green acres with filthy loos, but I’m greeted with a stage set in a car park. It’s not as bad as it sounds.
Day turns to night and once again the headliners take to their chosen arena, with the crowd more heavily packed than the previous night. It’s not as emotional as seeing The Stone Roses, but they certainly know how to play a great set. Robert Smiths stage chemistry is amazing too, and he engages well with the crowd, which I think artists don’t do enough of. He doesn’t play a couple of favourites, which I’m slightly disappointed at, but when you have that many songs to get through I’d imagine you can’t please everyone.
We stop off to see some naff DJ in the dance tent before calling it a night. In truth I’m becoming more and more jaded with DJ’s. Unless it’s a massive name like The Chemical Brothers or Daft Punk, I’m not very good at telling the tunes apart and everything just ends up sounding the same. At least live anyway. I’m just watching some dude twist some nobs and press some buttons with headphones on, which they always do with such melodrama. I’m sure you don’t need to flick that switch with such over the top gusto, then put your hand in the air to signal how amazing you are for pressing play. It’s just not as good as watching live bands. Unless it’s The Kooks.