I'm sure I could write a much longer article on the brilliance of the Youtube phenomenon Brett Domino, but I think that will inevitably follow the release of his album in March, so I'll leave it until then to discuss such things.
For now, I think you should all read the hilarious interview I did with him around Christmas, found below on The 405, and enjoy the wonders of a pop-parody act that can truly do it all.
Rocco La Bête Interview
Saturday, 19 February 2011
Tuesday, 8 February 2011
Thin Lizzy (R.I.P. Gary Moore)
Twenty-five years ago, Phil Lynott, the lead singer of hard rock band Thin Lizzy and a proud Irishman (even if he was born in West Bromwich), died. Drink and drugs, the usual story. I can't say I was there from the beginning, I wasn't born. However, I was there from last year, and I have to say, now their ex-guitarist Gary Moore has died too, it seems to be a good time to write something about them. Something for them.
Phil Lynott was not only a great songwriter ('Dancing in the Moonlight', anyone?), he was also a stunningly expressive singer. Thin Lizzy's biggest hit, 'The Boys Are Back in Town', is not the best show of Lynott's mesmerising vocals, but their 13 album back catalogue contains plenty of documentation of his talent. Then the guitarists, of course. Gary Moore, though only with Thin Lizzy in patches, played breathtaking solos which guitarists have aspired to for decades. He died a few days ago from a heart attack in a hotel room, a haunt where so many stars die.
From the BBC4 documentary I saw on the band, they were a shambles, band members leaving and joining, each of them chaotically slipping in and out of consciousness... paralysis... The creative process came irritatingly naturally to them, whether they were shackled by their addictions or not. They were infamously good live, loved for their performances' energy and crowd interaction.
I've selected a few favourite tracks below.
It's a little disconcerting to think that the leading figures of youthful movements like the early hard rock movement are of an age to be dying now. When they were young, it seemed natural that these stars could live forever. A rockstar is not a person, it is an idol and a symbol: the power of revolution, exuberant change, like Che Guevara on a T-shirt. So it hits hard when they start dying. It makes me feel more mortal, and I'm sure it makes the original fans, never natural Saga Radio listeners, feel like their youth is disappearing behind them.
R.I.P. Gary Moore.
Phil Lynott was not only a great songwriter ('Dancing in the Moonlight', anyone?), he was also a stunningly expressive singer. Thin Lizzy's biggest hit, 'The Boys Are Back in Town', is not the best show of Lynott's mesmerising vocals, but their 13 album back catalogue contains plenty of documentation of his talent. Then the guitarists, of course. Gary Moore, though only with Thin Lizzy in patches, played breathtaking solos which guitarists have aspired to for decades. He died a few days ago from a heart attack in a hotel room, a haunt where so many stars die.
From the BBC4 documentary I saw on the band, they were a shambles, band members leaving and joining, each of them chaotically slipping in and out of consciousness... paralysis... The creative process came irritatingly naturally to them, whether they were shackled by their addictions or not. They were infamously good live, loved for their performances' energy and crowd interaction.
I've selected a few favourite tracks below.
It's a little disconcerting to think that the leading figures of youthful movements like the early hard rock movement are of an age to be dying now. When they were young, it seemed natural that these stars could live forever. A rockstar is not a person, it is an idol and a symbol: the power of revolution, exuberant change, like Che Guevara on a T-shirt. So it hits hard when they start dying. It makes me feel more mortal, and I'm sure it makes the original fans, never natural Saga Radio listeners, feel like their youth is disappearing behind them.
R.I.P. Gary Moore.
Saturday, 22 January 2011
What Makes Us Love Stealing Music?
Walking through a crowd of people a few weeks ago, my friend and I were discussing illegal downloading. "It is a crime!" she cried, far too loudly, and a couple of gatherings of people turned to eye us curiously. "You may not like it, but it's stealing, like going into a shop and taking a CD, but people don't care because there aren't the same consequences."
I nodded despondently. Faced with such an argument, it's very hard to disagree that illegal downloading is a bad thing. And for most of us, it isn't just about consequences: there is a moral framework in place in most of our minds which tells us stealing is wrong, according to principles of property ownership that we live by. So why does downloading music for free not feel particularly wrong?
Maybe it's because it counts to us among the many services that the internet offers: we can read The Guardian online without paying for a hard copy, same with most newspapers; we can watch music on Youtube, so what's the difference between that and having it on our hard drive? It's a blurry line, definitely. Especially when we go on to love the music, to listen to it all the time: we have a feeling of warmth towards the artist, and respect them, which feels like a kind of payment for the albums.
Then there's the idea that most of an artist's money comes from the gigs anyway. I'm sure it's true that they're one of the most profitable sections of a big band's income, but it would be wrong to think that this renders paying for albums and singles obsolete.
Of course, we also see bands like Radiohead distributing digital copies of their albums for free and we think, "see, it can't be that important for artists to get paid for MP3s!" But Radiohead have, as it stands, 259,682,938 plays on Last.fm - they're one of the most listened to bands in the world. The story is not the same for smaller artists.
"But I don't have the money," we whine. Or, "HMV doesn't stock it." "My iTunes is playing up!" "I can't be arsed to go out and get it." "Oh, I'll go and get it next week, after I've sampled it... by downloading it..."
We can all see from the shrinking music sections of what are, traditionally, CD shops, and the vast numbers of torrent and free MP3 sites that music isn't dying, it's just moved. It's not a shrinking business, it's just a failing one: what would happen if a huge free chocolate stall set up shop outside Thornton's? Music is getting freer, easier to access, and that's amazing - but in the end, it might just kill itself, because that band that sell half the number of albums they could have can't afford to make their next album. Reuben are a brilliant example - "dropped by their label 'cause they can't pay it back".
Reuben - 'Return of the Jedi'
"I'd like a job in which I'm able,
To put shoes on my feet, and food on my table,
Those nine-to-fivers, they look pretty stable,
But I get my wages from my record label."
One final aside: someone is benefitting from all this illegal downloading. The illegal downloading sites' owners, who get paid for advertising and some even for subscriptions. So, not only are you 'stealing', as my friend would insist, you're also funding criminals.
It would be great if music, as a source of joy and passion, could be free. But it isn't. And until then, the onus is on us to pay for it, or feel guilty - I think I can predict which one most of us will choose.
I nodded despondently. Faced with such an argument, it's very hard to disagree that illegal downloading is a bad thing. And for most of us, it isn't just about consequences: there is a moral framework in place in most of our minds which tells us stealing is wrong, according to principles of property ownership that we live by. So why does downloading music for free not feel particularly wrong?
Maybe it's because it counts to us among the many services that the internet offers: we can read The Guardian online without paying for a hard copy, same with most newspapers; we can watch music on Youtube, so what's the difference between that and having it on our hard drive? It's a blurry line, definitely. Especially when we go on to love the music, to listen to it all the time: we have a feeling of warmth towards the artist, and respect them, which feels like a kind of payment for the albums.
Then there's the idea that most of an artist's money comes from the gigs anyway. I'm sure it's true that they're one of the most profitable sections of a big band's income, but it would be wrong to think that this renders paying for albums and singles obsolete.
Of course, we also see bands like Radiohead distributing digital copies of their albums for free and we think, "see, it can't be that important for artists to get paid for MP3s!" But Radiohead have, as it stands, 259,682,938 plays on Last.fm - they're one of the most listened to bands in the world. The story is not the same for smaller artists.
"But I don't have the money," we whine. Or, "HMV doesn't stock it." "My iTunes is playing up!" "I can't be arsed to go out and get it." "Oh, I'll go and get it next week, after I've sampled it... by downloading it..."
We can all see from the shrinking music sections of what are, traditionally, CD shops, and the vast numbers of torrent and free MP3 sites that music isn't dying, it's just moved. It's not a shrinking business, it's just a failing one: what would happen if a huge free chocolate stall set up shop outside Thornton's? Music is getting freer, easier to access, and that's amazing - but in the end, it might just kill itself, because that band that sell half the number of albums they could have can't afford to make their next album. Reuben are a brilliant example - "dropped by their label 'cause they can't pay it back".
"I'd like a job in which I'm able,
To put shoes on my feet, and food on my table,
Those nine-to-fivers, they look pretty stable,
But I get my wages from my record label."
One final aside: someone is benefitting from all this illegal downloading. The illegal downloading sites' owners, who get paid for advertising and some even for subscriptions. So, not only are you 'stealing', as my friend would insist, you're also funding criminals.
It would be great if music, as a source of joy and passion, could be free. But it isn't. And until then, the onus is on us to pay for it, or feel guilty - I think I can predict which one most of us will choose.
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Reporting Back on Carl, Belle and Sebastian and Radiohead
When The 405 originally posted news of Carl Barât's new album and tour dates, following the tumbleweed came the comment, "Who's he?"
Carl Barât was the co-frontman of the influential but sadly disbanded rock band The Libertines. After two chaotically recorded albums and a Hell of a lot of druggery, he went on to front Dirty Pretty Things, whose demise was signalled by arguments and a weak second release well before they ultimately split in late 2008. Recently announced a father-to-be of London singer Edie Langley's baby, Carl Barât released a self-titled album this October.
I have to say, Carl is at his best when playing fast, Django Reinhardt-influenced riffs and snarling into the mic like the Angry Young Man he used to be. This album showcases his softer, piano-lead side. Where Pete Doherty, his recognised other half, succeeded with his gentle poetic lyrics and endearingly idiosyncratic inability to sing, Carl appears lacklustre when he's not attacking a fretboard. The whole album is a little hard to get into, and the lyrics try for archaic and often don't quite hit the mark. Plus, the cover image is the biggest testament to narcissism since... well, The Libertines' 'Narcissist'.
It's not bad though, considering a few years ago, Carl hated going onstage alone. It showcases competent songwriting and some enticing listens, like my favourite 'The Fall' (even if it does contain the lines "upon a sticky nightclub floor, a wilted rose I found, I snatched her from the clutches of an evil-smelling boar"). I don't think I was expecting particular greatness despite being a Carl fan, but I reckon Carl Barât's debut needs a Pete, John or Gary, a Didz or an Anthony, just to take that songwriting and bring it to life.
Belle and Sebastian, songsmiths of the twee pop age, have brought out an album recently too. Write About Love doesn't try for anything pretentious, it's that beautifully melodic, glistening pop that it was predicted to be. Strong like 2006's The Life Pursuit, perfectly produced and intensely listenable, I fell in love with Write About Love on first listen. It has a few more dips in quality than their last album, perhaps, but is just as musically adept: they have really developed their style this last few albums, and it's only got more lovable.
My final comment is probably the most filled with passion. In Rainbows. Yes, I'm incredibly late, don't blame me, I've been busy. Gorgeous chords, ingenious melodies flowing over and under atmospheric vocals, edgy drums, compelling lyrics... Radiohead may have made the news for their innovations in methods of release, but they've also made a brilliant album. There is a reason they're one of the most 'listened to' bands on the planet. Below is an incredibly cool video for 'Bodysnatchers' by Glann Marshall.
Carl Barât was the co-frontman of the influential but sadly disbanded rock band The Libertines. After two chaotically recorded albums and a Hell of a lot of druggery, he went on to front Dirty Pretty Things, whose demise was signalled by arguments and a weak second release well before they ultimately split in late 2008. Recently announced a father-to-be of London singer Edie Langley's baby, Carl Barât released a self-titled album this October.
I have to say, Carl is at his best when playing fast, Django Reinhardt-influenced riffs and snarling into the mic like the Angry Young Man he used to be. This album showcases his softer, piano-lead side. Where Pete Doherty, his recognised other half, succeeded with his gentle poetic lyrics and endearingly idiosyncratic inability to sing, Carl appears lacklustre when he's not attacking a fretboard. The whole album is a little hard to get into, and the lyrics try for archaic and often don't quite hit the mark. Plus, the cover image is the biggest testament to narcissism since... well, The Libertines' 'Narcissist'.
It's not bad though, considering a few years ago, Carl hated going onstage alone. It showcases competent songwriting and some enticing listens, like my favourite 'The Fall' (even if it does contain the lines "upon a sticky nightclub floor, a wilted rose I found, I snatched her from the clutches of an evil-smelling boar"). I don't think I was expecting particular greatness despite being a Carl fan, but I reckon Carl Barât's debut needs a Pete, John or Gary, a Didz or an Anthony, just to take that songwriting and bring it to life.
Belle and Sebastian, songsmiths of the twee pop age, have brought out an album recently too. Write About Love doesn't try for anything pretentious, it's that beautifully melodic, glistening pop that it was predicted to be. Strong like 2006's The Life Pursuit, perfectly produced and intensely listenable, I fell in love with Write About Love on first listen. It has a few more dips in quality than their last album, perhaps, but is just as musically adept: they have really developed their style this last few albums, and it's only got more lovable.
My final comment is probably the most filled with passion. In Rainbows. Yes, I'm incredibly late, don't blame me, I've been busy. Gorgeous chords, ingenious melodies flowing over and under atmospheric vocals, edgy drums, compelling lyrics... Radiohead may have made the news for their innovations in methods of release, but they've also made a brilliant album. There is a reason they're one of the most 'listened to' bands on the planet. Below is an incredibly cool video for 'Bodysnatchers' by Glann Marshall.
Bodysnatchers - Zeno Music Visualiser from Glenn Marshall on Vimeo.
Sunday, 14 November 2010
French Music, and Being a Reviewer
Currently, I have an article up on The 405 which I'm quite proud of:
France - Them and Us in Music
While I recommend heavily that you go and check it out if you like foreign language music, or just to learn a little bit about another culture, it serves to make another point. My responses so far have included:
and:
Thanks to the commenters for those little rewards, because I have to say, if anyone chooses to comment usually, it's to bash me and my opinions. Now, I've had a couple of fair criticisms in my time, where people haven't agreed with my comparisons to other bands or something. Those I can take, because certain areas of pop and folk aren't my forte, and although I do think I write decent reviews, sometimes they're not the most informed.
However, other times I get "F*x!ing b*%£! this review is s$*t, this is the best f%^!ing band to exist ever, you d*£&head." Now, the last of these examples was for a band called Thread Pulls, who, for all the swearwords in the world, are just a bit shit. It thinks itself all very arty with weird titles and strange echoey synths, but the singer can't sing, the lyrics are crap and there really isn't any reason I'd ever listen to it sober.
That is, as I'd admit, only my opinion. Whatever the fans are hearing between the lines that keeps Thread Pulls in bread and water is beyond me, but I'll admit that I could be missing some point or other. Maybe.
But eh, I'm not underqualified just because I don't like it. If everyone 'qualified' likes it, why isn't there hype for this band? I think it's because they're not all that great. They grate at best. Anyway, music is one of the most difficult of the arts to judge on quality alone: personal preferences always make for subjective reviewing.
So for all the haters out there: remember reviews are just reviews. Everyone knows it's mostly opinion, and unless the reviewer has made some unjust factual claims or slandered the band, swearing at the reviewer will only make you (and by extension, all fans of the band) look pathetic. Going by some daft pseudonym only reinforces this image of you.
France - Them and Us in Music
While I recommend heavily that you go and check it out if you like foreign language music, or just to learn a little bit about another culture, it serves to make another point. My responses so far have included:
This is an awesome primer.
and:
Anyway, great article!
Thanks to the commenters for those little rewards, because I have to say, if anyone chooses to comment usually, it's to bash me and my opinions. Now, I've had a couple of fair criticisms in my time, where people haven't agreed with my comparisons to other bands or something. Those I can take, because certain areas of pop and folk aren't my forte, and although I do think I write decent reviews, sometimes they're not the most informed.
However, other times I get "F*x!ing b*%£! this review is s$*t, this is the best f%^!ing band to exist ever, you d*£&head." Now, the last of these examples was for a band called Thread Pulls, who, for all the swearwords in the world, are just a bit shit. It thinks itself all very arty with weird titles and strange echoey synths, but the singer can't sing, the lyrics are crap and there really isn't any reason I'd ever listen to it sober.
That is, as I'd admit, only my opinion. Whatever the fans are hearing between the lines that keeps Thread Pulls in bread and water is beyond me, but I'll admit that I could be missing some point or other. Maybe.
But eh, I'm not underqualified just because I don't like it. If everyone 'qualified' likes it, why isn't there hype for this band? I think it's because they're not all that great. They grate at best. Anyway, music is one of the most difficult of the arts to judge on quality alone: personal preferences always make for subjective reviewing.
So for all the haters out there: remember reviews are just reviews. Everyone knows it's mostly opinion, and unless the reviewer has made some unjust factual claims or slandered the band, swearing at the reviewer will only make you (and by extension, all fans of the band) look pathetic. Going by some daft pseudonym only reinforces this image of you.
Friday, 8 October 2010
It's Been a While; Deer Tick
Busy all the time at the moment. However, I need to comment on the brilliance of the band Deer Tick. I reviewed their album The Black Dirt Sessions a few months back, and was very positive, and I've since delved into their back catalogue a little. The singer has a gorgeously scratchy, intense voice, which really sets them apart from other American folk/indie bands of the moment.
I'm in love with Deer Tick's lyrics. Recurring religious and regal themes I can take or leave, but sometimes the singer speaks with such elegance and eloquence that the result is irresistible. "Looks like I relied too hard on a dream, so tell me girl, where have you really been?... I built a kingdom on second chances" he growls in 'Piece by Piece and Frame by Frame'. Enticingly simple words that draw a picture, rasped in his husky tones, over well-played indie-ish acoustic guitar or heavy bass...
It's lovely. They are pensive but often upbeat too, and I'm going though a phase of really liking them. Deer Tick: check them out. I've put a few favourites below.
I'm in love with Deer Tick's lyrics. Recurring religious and regal themes I can take or leave, but sometimes the singer speaks with such elegance and eloquence that the result is irresistible. "Looks like I relied too hard on a dream, so tell me girl, where have you really been?... I built a kingdom on second chances" he growls in 'Piece by Piece and Frame by Frame'. Enticingly simple words that draw a picture, rasped in his husky tones, over well-played indie-ish acoustic guitar or heavy bass...
It's lovely. They are pensive but often upbeat too, and I'm going though a phase of really liking them. Deer Tick: check them out. I've put a few favourites below.
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Sonisphere @ Knebworth 2010
It's been a while since my last post; I've been enjoying the summer for reasons other than music, which is a surprise even to me. Since I last wrote, I've done several musical things, like go to metal fest Sonisphere, get into Bright Eyes, and reboot my dead iTunes.
The most important of those being Sonisphere.
On July 30th, I went to Sonisphere with my boyfriend. If you read any of the posts below, you'll know that metal is not really my favourite genre. I was definitely one of the girlfriends there whose sole purpose was to keep the tent warm - I made myself enjoy it anyway. I only saw a handful of bands: when most of the names are unfamiliar to you, you never quite know where to go.
We caught a few minutes of Gary Numan and Europe on the Friday night, and that was all. For the rest of the time, we explored the campsite and arena. Large numbers of men in tutus and girls in Newrocks wandered the fields, graffiting the much adored 'Pantera' on tents and queuing for portaloos, whose scent defined my weekend.
Alice Cooper was the best on the Friday night. Onto the Saturn Stage he strutted as the sun went down, dressed ridiculously with a myriad of wrinkles criss-crossing his face; he launched into 'School's Out', and the crowd's mixture of amusement and adulation added to the great atmosphere. From there, Alice proceeded to die onstage about five times, kill various hideously made-up humans and sing over his few-chord showman's punk. It was fun, and very tiring.
The first night was soundtracked by random cheers which spread across the campsite like mexican waves, skanky people talking and smoking shit, and the calls and jeers of drunken insomniacs.
On Saturday, we saw Family Force 5 on the Apollo Stage in the morning. They are incredibly scene, described by the term 'Christian Crunkcore' (?) and talking a lot about dancing. And dancing. Wearing lots of leather. That day we also saw Andrew O' Neill in the comedy tent, who definitely topped Tim Minchin, the act he was opening for. Rammstein finished the evening. I've never seen the deal with Rammstein: it's dull to me, repetitive and humourless. I enjoyed the stage show - fire, fire and more fire - but I wasn't particularly bothered when they went off early. A beachball ricocheting off a bald man's head and a mass singalong of 'Du Hast' were my highlights of the set.
On Sunday, my day started badly when my boyfriend's uncle arrived early and had to go back home, meaning we thought we were going to have to get the train home. Not having washed for two days, this seemed a harrowing sentence, so we didn't enjoy the morning. Finally, it was agreed he'd come back in the evening, so we were free to enjoy the empowering reggae metal of Skindred, who were bested only by Alice Cooper's set. Later on, we saw Kylesa, a hard punk band who headlined the Jaegermeister Stage, then Pendulum, and ultimately, Iron Maiden.
All weekend, girls had been baring their breasts to big screens, but it got stupid during Pendulum. There were so many incidents of chest-exposure that even the laddish men in the crowd stopped cheering, and it became a bored expectation of the women on camera. I got pissed off by the misogyny and it ruined Pendulum for me. We went for a wander before Iron Maiden, immersing ourselves in the atmosphere of all the expensive food tents, the legal highs tents, then spending too much on the 10p machines at the amusement arcade.
Iggy Pop was weak. He looked even more decrepit on stage than Alice Cooper had, but unlike Cooper's, the show was without fun, and unless you were in the pit, a mere irritation en route to Iron Maiden. They were also disappointing, for me. Rammstein had burned things. Alice Cooper had died. Iron Maiden didn't do anything fun which a less-metal fan could watch, Bruce Dickinson just talked in clichés before playing the songs, straight.
I think the crowd enjoyed it, though. It's just not my taste. My boyfriend didn't much care for their setlist either however, so we left early and packed up to go home.
And that was Sonisphere. On the journey home, sleeping on Jozef in the car, I had a heavy rock band playing invented songs in my ears, vaguely Metallica, and they didn't go away for days. We were exhausted and disgustingly unwashed, but happy. Very happy. It was my first festival, and I've discovered the charm of a permanent hum of music, overheard comments ("Slayer were amazing. I love my cock."), and nighttime fairgrounds lighting up littered fields.
The most important of those being Sonisphere.
On July 30th, I went to Sonisphere with my boyfriend. If you read any of the posts below, you'll know that metal is not really my favourite genre. I was definitely one of the girlfriends there whose sole purpose was to keep the tent warm - I made myself enjoy it anyway. I only saw a handful of bands: when most of the names are unfamiliar to you, you never quite know where to go.
We caught a few minutes of Gary Numan and Europe on the Friday night, and that was all. For the rest of the time, we explored the campsite and arena. Large numbers of men in tutus and girls in Newrocks wandered the fields, graffiting the much adored 'Pantera' on tents and queuing for portaloos, whose scent defined my weekend.
Alice Cooper was the best on the Friday night. Onto the Saturn Stage he strutted as the sun went down, dressed ridiculously with a myriad of wrinkles criss-crossing his face; he launched into 'School's Out', and the crowd's mixture of amusement and adulation added to the great atmosphere. From there, Alice proceeded to die onstage about five times, kill various hideously made-up humans and sing over his few-chord showman's punk. It was fun, and very tiring.
The first night was soundtracked by random cheers which spread across the campsite like mexican waves, skanky people talking and smoking shit, and the calls and jeers of drunken insomniacs.
On Saturday, we saw Family Force 5 on the Apollo Stage in the morning. They are incredibly scene, described by the term 'Christian Crunkcore' (?) and talking a lot about dancing. And dancing. Wearing lots of leather. That day we also saw Andrew O' Neill in the comedy tent, who definitely topped Tim Minchin, the act he was opening for. Rammstein finished the evening. I've never seen the deal with Rammstein: it's dull to me, repetitive and humourless. I enjoyed the stage show - fire, fire and more fire - but I wasn't particularly bothered when they went off early. A beachball ricocheting off a bald man's head and a mass singalong of 'Du Hast' were my highlights of the set.
On Sunday, my day started badly when my boyfriend's uncle arrived early and had to go back home, meaning we thought we were going to have to get the train home. Not having washed for two days, this seemed a harrowing sentence, so we didn't enjoy the morning. Finally, it was agreed he'd come back in the evening, so we were free to enjoy the empowering reggae metal of Skindred, who were bested only by Alice Cooper's set. Later on, we saw Kylesa, a hard punk band who headlined the Jaegermeister Stage, then Pendulum, and ultimately, Iron Maiden.
All weekend, girls had been baring their breasts to big screens, but it got stupid during Pendulum. There were so many incidents of chest-exposure that even the laddish men in the crowd stopped cheering, and it became a bored expectation of the women on camera. I got pissed off by the misogyny and it ruined Pendulum for me. We went for a wander before Iron Maiden, immersing ourselves in the atmosphere of all the expensive food tents, the legal highs tents, then spending too much on the 10p machines at the amusement arcade.
Iggy Pop was weak. He looked even more decrepit on stage than Alice Cooper had, but unlike Cooper's, the show was without fun, and unless you were in the pit, a mere irritation en route to Iron Maiden. They were also disappointing, for me. Rammstein had burned things. Alice Cooper had died. Iron Maiden didn't do anything fun which a less-metal fan could watch, Bruce Dickinson just talked in clichés before playing the songs, straight.
I think the crowd enjoyed it, though. It's just not my taste. My boyfriend didn't much care for their setlist either however, so we left early and packed up to go home.
And that was Sonisphere. On the journey home, sleeping on Jozef in the car, I had a heavy rock band playing invented songs in my ears, vaguely Metallica, and they didn't go away for days. We were exhausted and disgustingly unwashed, but happy. Very happy. It was my first festival, and I've discovered the charm of a permanent hum of music, overheard comments ("Slayer were amazing. I love my cock."), and nighttime fairgrounds lighting up littered fields.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)