Published: Monday, 14th July, 2008 14:31
T in the Park
By Observer
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THE LAST time I was at T in the Park, I was 16 and went for two reasons: girls and alcohol.
Much to my disappointment (at the time), I succeeded in neither.
This year’s trip to Balado, however, turned out a bit better and can be summed up with two completely different words: Thrash and Metal.
I can’t say I’m a fan of the genre but for some reason I found myself in a 30-or-less weak crowd in a small tent on Saturday night watching a Canadian five-piece called F***** Up.
They were probably the worst band I have seen but in a really brilliant way. It was impossible to make out any of the words and it sounded like they were playing the same two chords over and over again.
They did, however, put on a good show with some brilliant gymnastics from the lead singer.
What added to the hilarity – apart from the overweight, bald, bearded and shirtless singer – were the four fans trying to desperately to mosh.
Such is the nature of T in the Park: music and revellers in all shapes and sizes descending on an abandoned airfield to expand their horizons … in tents. As you approach the festival site, it’s the sea of tents that first jumps out at you, followed by the dark blue marquees and the now iconic ferris wheel.
Cars, cars and more cars lay siege to the main arena and everywhere you look people are enjoying T in the Park, as well as cider, whiskey, and much more. What’s amazing about the gathering is the vast amount of people who turn up.
Some 80,000 of them attended on both Saturday and Sunday.
Party-goers in costumes, men in kilts and lots and lots of welly wearing fans – they’re all there.
And, for a change, the rain stayed away, leaving the thousands of wellies employed to protect against the mud redundant.
But what of the music, I hear you cry.
Well, we’ve already been over the thrash metal section but there were well over a hundred other bands playing at the weekend.
It is, I can tell you, a myth to say that when you go looking for lesser-known bands you will find some hidden gems (F***** Up are the exception to this rule). Haight-Ashbury, a three-piece outfit named after a district of San Francisco, proved this point much to my misery at the T-Break Stage on Saturday afternoon. Things were not looking so good at this stage and by mid-afternoon a wildfire rumour going around the press corps that an unattended Tennent’s tap had been found in the media village was sounding very tempting.
The day was saved, however, at 7pm when Reverend and the Makers took to the stage.
The funk/soul/blues/rap outfit rocked a capacity crowd in King Tut’s Wah Wah Tent before the always-popular Pogues delighted a large tri-colour waving contingent.
Unfortunately, the weekend seemed to peak on Saturday night and nothing could really compare to the high-octane set of my new Canadian heroes.
A brief foray into the Slam Tent on Sunday to see dance outfit Slam gave me the chance to observe the police drugs dogs in action.
I also managed to glimpse at The Enemy on the Main Stage from about two football pitches distance away.
Amy Winehouse, REM and Primal Scream all headlined on the Sunday night to much approval from the cheering throng.
But by that time all you can really think about is how sore your feet are – it’s a really, really big site and you have to walk everywhere – and work the next day.
Still, as it turned out, that Tennent’s tap was unattended and as a result the media section was the place to be. Too bad I was gagging for a Foster’s.
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