Way out West, Thursday 9th August 2012, Slottsskogen
So we are at this time of the year again, when Slotts gets taken over by a few music lovers and wearers of the next wave of hipster fashion chic that will be sweeping the Swedish nation for the next couple of hours/days/weeks.
I decided to kick my festival weekend off on the Wednesday night by sharing 3 bottles of red wine, enjoying the Gbg sunshine and then (surprisingly) having to hide under a blanket as a downpour blew in from seemingly nowhere before going out to watch Sea Lion and Ram Di Dam at Pustervik. Needless to say, despite knowing I had a great night, my memories of said night are somewhat blurry.
Still, onwards and upwards and onto the massive queue that was waiting for us on arriving at the site. Despite this being a pretty established festival they still seem to have the organisational skills of me, still not figuring out that maybe an extra entrance might be a way of solving the world’s largest bottleneck! So after around 45 minutes of sweating out one of the bottles of wine whilst in the queue we were in and straight over to watch Deportees from the first bar we found. To our quivering shock there were no pints of the cold stuff to be had, just bad tasting alcoholic wee water, in bottles, 33cl for the price of last year’s pints! Bad form! The band weren’t much better failing to spark any of us into life and so it was up to De La Soul to get us jigging. Now I have to admit I can’t remember a note of their set, but I’m led to believe they were good. Instead I went to see Mark Lanegan, not for the hope of a ‘pick me up’, but just to see his ‘tache and listen to some decent music, both of these objectives were fulfilled. What a moustache that dude has!
‘Ok Florence & your Machine, help me lift this hungover funk and get me back on the drinking trail again!’ Alas, again she was unable to get the drinking and enjoyment juices flowing despite rumours of her tipped top live show so off I trotted home for a little food and a little pukie.
On my return I was greeted by the seeming semi erection inducing ex straight edge hardcore reformationists that are Refused, not really my musical bag, but they put on a decent showing and the size of the crowd and reaction seemed to back up my opinion. Well done me.
Now onto the nightly big wigs and apparently ‘one of the best bands on the planet’ The Black Keys. To back up my anticipation I decided to ‘treat’ myself to a bottle of beer, big mistake! It tasted worse than what I would imagine Nicky Wire’s distilled sweat would taste like and almost led to the second vomming session of the day. The Black Keys – ok, but not enough to be able to resist the gyration inducing pull of king geek, non band looking, out on their own electrical ace wonderkins Hot Chip. And they sure as eggs are eggs lived up to my made up tag, they were very good making the whole show look brilliantly effortless.
This was followed by the ever annoying and seemingly pointlessness of Stay out West. Why sell 30,000+ tickets to a festival when a large proportion of the bands are playing in venues that seem to hold about 30 people each!? Now us English folks love a good queue but these ones are ruddy rubbish and lead to absolutely nowhere! So it was off to M2 to see friend of IMK Bobby Tank, thank God he didn’t disappoint, despite the crowd not really getting his set it was still the finest way to finish off the first day.