I didn’t mean to post this so late, but I got caught up in the gargantuan task of cleaning my room. Since my room cleaning methods consist of dumping everything on the floor, and then sorting and discarding items, it’s not really surprising if I’m still going a week after I tipped everything on the floor. And before I get completely off topic, here is my one sentence summary of Big Day Out ‘08: FUCKING HOT, Rage Against the Machine rocked. If you want the longer version, here it is:
The route to the stadium from the train seemed completely different from the last two years I’ve been, and I have no idea why (this is foreshadowing). Something else different from previous years was the fact we hit the food stalls first. This is what happens when you go with two guys. However, I did end up with a massive slice of watermelon for being an early bird, so it wasn’t all bad.
I would’ve never gone to see Operator Please if it weren’t for my friends, but they were fun enough to pass the time. I spent most of the set mocking the keyboardist, who had nothing to do except play chords and dance.
The Checks are a tight live band, but after seeing them twice I couldn’t really muster up much enthusiasm. I made the amateur mistake of standing next to a speaker, and with every squealing note, I could hear that my right ear was getting absolutely screwed. I was beyond relieved when we left to see Shy Child.
… who completely rocked! And they had a keytar! A keytar! I would definitely pay to see them again. The keytar player (keytar!) tried out his Kiwi, by telling us he’d learnt the phrase “sweet as bro”, but he really should’ve said “sweet as, bro”. The comma is important, because otherwise you’ve just uttered a really weird simile.
Op Shop. Snooze. They were more exciting at Christmas at the Park than they were at Big Day Out.
The appearance of the Bleeders was the ideal time to have a lunch break. I shouldn’t have bothered though, as my lunch turned out to be the most disgusting butter chicken I’ve ever eaten. I guess you should expect that when you buy it from a Chinese food stall for a cheaper price than all the other food stalls.
Spoon sounded really good, all jangly and summery, and would’ve definitely been one of my highlights if it weren’t for the shitty scheduling. They deserved a bigger crowd than they got, and I really hope they come back. Lazing by the barrier, soaking up the music, I realised I was quite possibly the whitest person there. I practically glowed in the sunlight. Considering how effing hot it was, my efforts to protect my Snow White-ness weren’t that bad this year. I had very faint redness on my forearms and around my eyes, mild sunburn on the top of my left shoulder and ouchy fuck sunburn on the top of my right shoulder. I have no idea how I managed to miss the top of my shoulders, but I did, and it hurt.
Dizzee Rascal was intense. I felt like I was drinking sweat the whole time, which as you can probably imagine, is pretty fucking disgusting. Not counting the sweat drinking, it was a killer 45 minutes.
I wanted to see Battles, but they never appeared. I found out later they’d switched with the Nightwatchman, which would’ve sucked for the guy who found out from us that Tom Morello was definitely appearing at 6.15. Oops. Hope he enjoyed Battles!
Interesting fact: I went to the toilet (not a Portaloo) at 5.30pm, and they were clean and well stocked. I wonder if this year’s punters didn’t know about the stadium toilets? This is a most puzzling conundrum, but one that I’m not complaining about. I felt like I was visiting a very popular person’s house, instead of being a person at a 45,000 strong music festival.
Arcade Fire were one of my highlights, although I wanted to throttle the girl standing behind me who would not shut up. This is one of my top concert annoyances, others being:
- People who lean back in a mosh for no good reason.
- People who arrive 10 minutes into the set and then try to push their way forward for a better spot.
- Tall people who all cluster together (this one’s a bit irrational, but I still hate it).
Shihad own the 7-8pm main stage slot, which is okay because they’re a good band, but I don’t want to be watching them in the 7-8pm slot every second year I go to the Big Day Out. Anyway, people were squashing people by trying to get into the D barrier when the light was red - that’s how they got a bullet blasted through their head, blasted through their head (sorry, lame “joke”). Shihad stopped playing until everyone backed up, which led to a crowd shitfit that was quite entertaining to watch from my seat on high.
The organisers must’ve been on crack to choose Bjork as a co-headliner. Not because she lacks talent or can’t put on a good show, but because none of the Rage fans wanted her there and they made this pretty obvious. This has led me to the conclusion that most Rage fans are big, fat, musically intolerant babies, and they need to suck it up and let people enjoy the music they want to listen to.
But Rage against the Machine was so much fun! I was way too tired from the heat to even consider entering the mosh, but I did have a great view from my seat in the stadium. And I swore with the best of them, motherfuckers.
By the time my friend and I exited the main stadium (always such a mission), all I wanted to do was relax and enjoy a blast from the past in the form of Supergroove. It was super relaxing to sit on the grass and people watch (trying desperately not to think about what I might actually be sitting on). There wasn’t a lot of crazy around, but I did spot two guys with matching Silver Fern tattoos, who, when they realised this, starting rubbing up against each other.
And to give this story an appropriate end, my friend and I went the wrong way out of the stadium and added an hour to our journey home.
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Posted by Emily
