Its early in the evening on Thursday 14th when my mobile rings. A shady voice tells me there's a spare ticket for V and I'm going. If only Ticketmaster was that efficient. 24 hours later, having blagged a bit of time off work and copious amounts of booze, my motley band and I arrived on site in Chelmsford. Once we put our tents up, the fun could start.
Except it didn't, because of the two fuckholes in the tent next to us. You know that game at festivals, where you shout something out and everyone else shouts it back? Normally its "bollocks" that's yelled. Well, my new neighbours (who were about 15, obvious festival virgins and drunk by their second beer) had their own repertoire: "GAY bar, GAY bar" and "118 - got your number". Very irritating, especially seeing as no one else wanted to play with them. So they just shouted at each other. Until about 2am. Thankfully, I had tequila. Those boys have no idea how close they came to being bludgeoned to death with a rubber mallet.
Saturday, early. After a hearty breakfast of beer, tequila and greasy bacon we were ready to get into some full-on festival action. Unfortunately, V being so organised (to the point that it could almost be run by a committee of mothers), full-on festival action involved lots of queuing. Queuing for the bogs, for booze, to get into the arena. By that time, I was gagging for a drink. So much so that I spent the next four hours flitting from the beer tent to the Bacardi bar (hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time).
As a result of that, I can't really remember much of the day before 6pm. That's when Ash hit the stage. I've been a fan of Ash for years, and they're a great festival band. Like Ronseal, they do exactly what it says on the tin. Fizzy punk-pop that kids can bounce around to. Except for the fact that they're only about six months older than me (my parents should've bought me a guitar NOT A BASTARD ATARI), I really can't fault them. Plus, guitarist Charlotte Hatherley is a babe. There's just something wonderful about a girl and a guitar. But lets not forget the tunes. Ash play a storming greatest hits set, and as the booze-fog lifted and the sun beat down during 'Shining Light', I felt a big goofy grin spread across my face.
But it didn't spread to far, 'cos I had to face the serious task of getting closer to the stage for Foo Fighters. Joined by two of my mates, we fought our way into the crowdthen realized we had no booze. As it was, we didn't need any. The Foos were awesome. Considering drummer Taylor Hawkins nearly died on the Chelmsford site two years ago, they could've been a washout. But oh hell they weren't! From the opening bars of 'All My Life' it was one of the best shows of the weekend. Dave Grohl gave it full-on rock-geezer posturing, Taylor grinned like a loon, Nate Mendel and Chris Shiflett looked genuinely surprised by the reception they were getting. And in amongst all this manly rock-ness, Dave even managed to dedicate 'Tired' to his wife. Awww, bless! Unfortunately, it dawns on me as the Foos finish their set that I have completely missed Goldfrapp in the JJB arena. It also dawns on me that my tenure as a babyfathead writer may come to an end following the scandalous fuck-up I've just made.
Around about this time, my friends and I made the healthy, informed decision to get back on the beers. Good job too, because Coldplay would have been a huge disappointment if I'd been sober. I'm not the hugest fan; and while I find them very talented, I also think they lack enough punch to really push my buttons. Obviously, my mates agreed because they bogged off to watch Jon Carter in the Strongbow arena (without telling me, of course). I actually found Coldplay a lot better than I was expecting. I was surprised to realise how many songs of theirs I liked, and 'God Put a Smile On Your Face' is pretty damn fine live. Apparently, according to everyone else that was there, they finished with 'What a Wonderful World' I must've missed that. The last sound I heard was 'Yellow'. And jolly good it was too.
Sunday AM. After the booze-fuelled antics of Saturday, I was determined to actually catch some bands today. Not only that, I planned to remember some details as well. So after my mates filled me in on last night's minor details (they'd found me about 2am, drinking white wine and babbling about 'my new friends outside the Oxfam tent'), we set off to enjoy the music. Special mentions go to some of the early bands on the NME stage: The Zutons, Haven and Spearhead. All put on blinding shows and definitely helped blow the cobwebs away.
Next up, over to the main stage for Morcheeba. Normally a good bet for a Sunday afternoon, they suffered from a really poor mix. The tunes just didn't carry over a huge field. Despite Skye Edwards attempts to involve the crowd, I'm pretty sure I saw 20,000 people shrug their shoulders simultaneously at one point. PJ Harvey fared a little better; she had superior songs, a meatier sound and an incredibly short skirt. I'm sure that had something to do with the response she got.
Around about this point, my friends took leave of their senses and went to watch the (frankly un-inspiring) double whammy of Evan Dando and Tim Burgess. I stayed rooted in front of the main stage. Why? Because Queens of the Stone Age were on next. I'm a fan, so I'm biased, but they fucking rocked. Live, QOTSA are so loud they sound like God falling down the stairs. Everything is turned up to 11. Josh Homme and Nick Oliveri are like twin pillars of coolness stage right and centre. Despite the heat, Troy Van Leeuwen wears an immaculate suit, same as always. Joey Castillo pounds the drums like a cross between Animal Muppet and the Hulk. And this is before Mark Lanegan joins them. Lanegan, even from 50 metres away, is the most imposing presence on Earth. QOTSA ripped through an hour-long set and tore most of Essex in half. 'The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret' created the biggest mosh-pit of the weekend. They ended the set with 'No One Knows', the only song I know that is both jaunty and sinister at the same time.
I tore over to the NME stage and caught up with the rest of my mates. Managed to see the last of Tim Burgess as well. He was wearing a cowboy hat and one of his band played the slide guitar a lot. I think he may have sung a song about 'the plains'. Tim, The Charlatans are cool. Your country-wank act isn't. Thank fuck I had time for a beer while he was honking on. Didn't want to miss Liverpool's finest: The Coral. Ridiculously talented, ridiculously young, they performed an amazing set. I think of 'Dreaming of You' as a classic already. They ended the set with 'Goodbye'; which morphed into one of those 20-minute jams. I normally hate them, but this one was incredibly entertaining. Maybe it was the stoned grin on singer James Skelly's face as he pounded on the drums. Maybe it was the light show. Maybe it was the fact I managed to get through their whole set (and this review) without making a single joke about scallies or thieving hubcaps.
Darkness had well and truly arrived by the time The Coral finished. And in this darkness my friends and I, along with 60,000 other people, headed to the main stage to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I was so excited, like a kid who's eaten too many red Skittles. I'd wanted to see the Chilis since I was 14. We fought and pushed for a good spot. We got a clear line of sight. My anticipation reached fever pitch. An I-Love-You-Couple stood in front of me. NOOOOOOOOO! Bastards. I wasn't about to tolerate this, and threw water at them. When they looked round I said: "Wankers eh? They got me as well" in my best innocent voice. Chumley and his missus moved. YES! Let the show commence. What can I say about the Chili Peppers? Scarily hyperactive (all except for guitarist John Frusciante have turned 40), they covered every inch of the stage. They bantered with each other and the crowd as easily as you or me would order a pizza. Acknowledging 'the disco' that was Underworld's set, Frusciante ripped into a note perfect rendition of 70's floor filler 'I Feel Love'. And I haven't even mentioned the tunes yet. 'Scar Tissue', 'Zephyr Song', 'Under the Bridge'. The list goes on. Every single one greeted by the crowd like an old friend. 'Give it Away' bounced out of the speaker stacks sounding brand new, as opposed to 12 years old. The fact that it started to rain didn't matter. The fact that, soon after the show, we would sit in traffic till 2am didn't matter. Work the next day definitely didn't matter. What can I say about the Chili Peppers? Worth it. Well worth it.
V2003. Overpriced beer and nuclear fried chicken? Yep. Well organised and fairly safe as festivals go? Yep. The best line-up of any festival this year? Yep. See you next year then!
Submitted by Booger
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