Open your mouth and shut your eyes
(Actually studying's not so bad when you get into the groove(y).)
All Tomorrow's Parties! Narrative!
So as I live at the end of the Earth it would probably cost in excess of £100 to get to ATP by train. I went to London and sharked Mward's lift to ATP. Not that Mward had a ticket to this festival, you know.
Team Awesome/ Team Emotional Cripple road trip ensued. We sang along to C90 tapes crammed into new member Andrew's nice little motor. I am wee so I sat in the middle back seat, straddling the bit that leads to the gear stick. On either side of me, laterally and in front, the others chatted about performance art. I'd just spent my working week immersing myself into mapping audiences in Hull. Judging from their conversation, I'd say my friends are Urban Arts Eclectics. Nice. There's about... three?... of those in the whole city of Hull. Most of Hull is Dinner and a Show, with higher than the UK's average of A Quiet Pint With the Match.
Anyway, so we received abusive texts from Mward all the way to Butlins. When we got there he found us and hugged us, big grins. Talya arrived from Dublin. The team was then nearly complete: McD arrived the next day after working through the night. Busy lady.
Time for music! Foaming from the teeth for all tomorrow's fun we scrambled over each other like ferrets to the main stage. A cavernous set up under a faux-marquee/big top. The sound was pretty good there, but it is enormous. I think some atmosphere got swallowed up. The first band that were really good on that stage I think were the Breeders, and then Gang of Four. Luko does not agree with me.
The best stage was called 'Centre Stage', which is I suppose where Butlins puts on its usual entertainment mostly. The sound was ace. I loved Pit er Pat on Friday there (my friends talked through that set and then later said "Oh I felt a bit distant from the music" yeah don't talk through it then ha). Almost everyone on Saturday was good there. Yeah I love Shellac, but eeee they did bring me down when they played on Saturday. I had to ring my Mum to get cheered up.
The best set for me on Saturday, maybe for the whole weekend, was Holy Fuck. So brilliant! I think most people were hugging halfway through the set. It's happy sound bouncing around you.
I think I wandered about on adventures for a lot of Saturday and Sunday. I bought some Tara McPherson artwork - just small screen-printed cards. Postcard size. Beautiful, my next tattoo inspired by one print. I'll see if I can find it to show you, internet.
Sunday bands... seemed like the best line-up of the whole weekend written down, but Saturday was full of nice surprises and Sunday was full of a few 'mehhh' as it turned out.
I avoided Shellac's second set. Ugh. Melt Banana though... I need to see them again. Fantastic punk craziness. Kimya Dawson played straight after them. A huge contrast. She was lovely. She invited some people she'd just met up on stage. She created a monster. The young man started whooping and punching a fist in the air. After beginning to sing along with her, he suddenly stopped singing, walked over and kissed her and started trying to have some kind of conversation with her. Oh hai, she's trying to play a gig?! Then he spoke on the microphone some kind of X Factor sob-story crap. One of the others on the stage became emboldened and used the microphone to promote her band's next gig. When the boo-ing started I left. Luckily Gang of Four were on a different stage. Ace.
Oh, no panic attacks on the motorway home this time. Big phew. I think it's 'cause Teecee made lasagna and Mward made lentil bolognese. We ate so well! & I got more sleep too: Madlib did my head in with his stop-start so I went to bed. (I was looking forward to his set, but he's not right for an end-of-festival Sunday night slot. Everyone was too exhausted to be berated for not dancing hard enough/ whooping and hollering loud enough.)
Best music revelation of the weekend: The Whispertown 2000. Rockn'Roll barn dance music.
Best memory of idiotic-ness: Crawling into the cinema to see Blue Velvet, as crawling seemed more appropriate than walking in. Somehow.
I can't remember when we bumped into Kelley Deal, but we did. So sweet and nice! I wouldha' bumped into her a lot more if I weren't so lazy and had gone to her knitting sessions.
(Post title is the title of a photograph Lewis Carroll took of three children, now in a private collection after an export licence granted from its sale at Sothebys. True story.)
All Tomorrow's Parties! Narrative!
So as I live at the end of the Earth it would probably cost in excess of £100 to get to ATP by train. I went to London and sharked Mward's lift to ATP. Not that Mward had a ticket to this festival, you know.
Team Awesome/ Team Emotional Cripple road trip ensued. We sang along to C90 tapes crammed into new member Andrew's nice little motor. I am wee so I sat in the middle back seat, straddling the bit that leads to the gear stick. On either side of me, laterally and in front, the others chatted about performance art. I'd just spent my working week immersing myself into mapping audiences in Hull. Judging from their conversation, I'd say my friends are Urban Arts Eclectics. Nice. There's about... three?... of those in the whole city of Hull. Most of Hull is Dinner and a Show, with higher than the UK's average of A Quiet Pint With the Match.
Anyway, so we received abusive texts from Mward all the way to Butlins. When we got there he found us and hugged us, big grins. Talya arrived from Dublin. The team was then nearly complete: McD arrived the next day after working through the night. Busy lady.
Time for music! Foaming from the teeth for all tomorrow's fun we scrambled over each other like ferrets to the main stage. A cavernous set up under a faux-marquee/big top. The sound was pretty good there, but it is enormous. I think some atmosphere got swallowed up. The first band that were really good on that stage I think were the Breeders, and then Gang of Four. Luko does not agree with me.
The best stage was called 'Centre Stage', which is I suppose where Butlins puts on its usual entertainment mostly. The sound was ace. I loved Pit er Pat on Friday there (my friends talked through that set and then later said "Oh I felt a bit distant from the music" yeah don't talk through it then ha). Almost everyone on Saturday was good there. Yeah I love Shellac, but eeee they did bring me down when they played on Saturday. I had to ring my Mum to get cheered up.
The best set for me on Saturday, maybe for the whole weekend, was Holy Fuck. So brilliant! I think most people were hugging halfway through the set. It's happy sound bouncing around you.
I think I wandered about on adventures for a lot of Saturday and Sunday. I bought some Tara McPherson artwork - just small screen-printed cards. Postcard size. Beautiful, my next tattoo inspired by one print. I'll see if I can find it to show you, internet.
Sunday bands... seemed like the best line-up of the whole weekend written down, but Saturday was full of nice surprises and Sunday was full of a few 'mehhh' as it turned out.
I avoided Shellac's second set. Ugh. Melt Banana though... I need to see them again. Fantastic punk craziness. Kimya Dawson played straight after them. A huge contrast. She was lovely. She invited some people she'd just met up on stage. She created a monster. The young man started whooping and punching a fist in the air. After beginning to sing along with her, he suddenly stopped singing, walked over and kissed her and started trying to have some kind of conversation with her. Oh hai, she's trying to play a gig?! Then he spoke on the microphone some kind of X Factor sob-story crap. One of the others on the stage became emboldened and used the microphone to promote her band's next gig. When the boo-ing started I left. Luckily Gang of Four were on a different stage. Ace.
Oh, no panic attacks on the motorway home this time. Big phew. I think it's 'cause Teecee made lasagna and Mward made lentil bolognese. We ate so well! & I got more sleep too: Madlib did my head in with his stop-start so I went to bed. (I was looking forward to his set, but he's not right for an end-of-festival Sunday night slot. Everyone was too exhausted to be berated for not dancing hard enough/ whooping and hollering loud enough.)
Best music revelation of the weekend: The Whispertown 2000. Rockn'Roll barn dance music.
Best memory of idiotic-ness: Crawling into the cinema to see Blue Velvet, as crawling seemed more appropriate than walking in. Somehow.
I can't remember when we bumped into Kelley Deal, but we did. So sweet and nice! I wouldha' bumped into her a lot more if I weren't so lazy and had gone to her knitting sessions.
(Post title is the title of a photograph Lewis Carroll took of three children, now in a private collection after an export licence granted from its sale at Sothebys. True story.)