Pukkelpoptastic!

Last weekend I went to the PukkelPop music festival here in Belgium.  In part this was because a good buddy of mine (Peter) was going and insisted I’d have a great time, and in part because I wanted to convince myself – having recently passed the 40 mark – that I am not too old to go to festivals (or even gigs in general, despite the wife’s insistence that I’m past it and will just be an object of ridicule to the rest of the much younger audience who probably think I’m only there to chaperone my kids).

That said, I did kind of wimp out.  It’s a three-day festival with camping available, but I still retreated to the comfort and safety of my own bed each night (although Peter stayed on-site).  Though to be fair, this turned out to be the much harder option.  The festival ran Thursday through Saturday, and I had to work all three days (plus the Sunday after for good measure) so I was fitting in a full 8- or 9-hour day at work, making an hour’s drive to the festival site, dancing (or at least nodding appreciatively) along to the music until 2am, then driving home again, getting to bed at 3:30, then up again at 6:30 to go back into work.  For three days in a row.  These young whippersnappers think they know tough just because they could fall asleep in a pool of their own vomit in a tent on-site??  They don’t know Jack.

Anyway, the festival was excellent, and I did have a great time.  Depsite the rain (and how!), the dodgy food, the overpriced drink, and the having to stand for hours on end (and me with my bad back…), I’m glad I did it.  I’m even considering doing it next year (although I might take the sensible option next time and stay on site).

On the Monday I carefully snipped off my access wristband and dropped it into the shoebox I have all (or at least a good selection of) my old concert tickets in (sad, isn’t it?).  Whilst I was at it, I found tickets for concerts I can’t even remember going to (Elastica, Sidi Bou Said, and Chapterhouse to name but a few).  I’m now worried that  Alzheimer’s has started setting in already (maybe I’m not as young as I thought…), so just to save me the embarrasment of finding my PukkelPop ticket in said box ten years from now and saying to myself “I wonder who I saw?”, I thought I’d better capture the details whilst I still remember them.

Thursday
I’d managed to get there in time for Babyshambles, only to find that they’d cancelled due to (surprise, surprise) Pete Doherty’s latest drug woes (he was up before the beak back in Blighty).  Instead, I settled for We Are Scientists, who delivered a pretty solid performance.  I’m a bit of a sucker for power-trios (witness Supergrass, Motorhead, Cream…) and they didn’t disappoint.  Next, over in the main arena, Snow Patrol took to the stage.  Or at least two of them did.  Apparently their equipment was mising in transit so all they had was a couple of accoustic guitars.  They apologized profusely, and managed to win the crowd over with a pretty good accoustic set of their biggest hits (Run and Chasing Cars being the notable highlights). The next band I saw were the ones I was most looking forward to seeing (and, if the truth be told the deciding factor in me going): My Morning Jacket.  Jim James’ vocal range is just incredible.  Beyond words.  Literally – the opening number (the aptly named Wordless Chorus) is largely lacking in actual words, the ‘chorus’ being just a succession of whoops, howls, and hollers.  Add to this his spanking guitar-playing and strangely compelling stage dancing and you’ve got an unmissable live act.  Despite a few mellow moments (sailing a little too close to the Eagles, and even John Denver…) they were astounding.  Uitstekend! as I shouted in (Flemish) Peter’s ear. Next up was Beck on the main stage.  I’m not a great fan, but some of his stuff is not bad.  He had a live puppet show on stage, with puppets (marionettes, not hand-puppets) of himself and the band, playing ‘live’ (I’m not sure if a puppet can be said to mime), and then broadcast onto the television banks.  Sadly, the puppet show was the most entertaining part of the show.  The evening closed out wih Radiohead playing a full two-hour set.  They were another reason I went, as I didn’t think I’d seen them live before (although my ticket collection apparently proves otherwise…).  I was curious as to how they’d pull off their recent overly-electronic sound, and they did an excellent job.  Not exactly an electrifying performance, but good.  If I had to sum it up in a word, it would be accomplished.

Friday
I got there in time to catch Be Your Own Pet on one of the smaller stages.  They were pretty bad – lots of screamy vocals and faux-agression.  Apparently Sonic Youth are big fans, but then Kim Gordon sure as hell can’t sing either.  Next up on the main stage were The Raconteurs.  Jack White has been keen to stress that this is a real band and not just his side-project.  Sure, they do sound more like a band than the White Stripes did, but Jack is still the star.  Given the space outside of the strict blues structure of the ‘Stripes, White’s guitar playing was pushed further, faster and louder (if that’s possible), delivering an excellent set.  After hot-footing it to the Marquee, we caught The Twilight Singers, who are essentially Greg Dulli (of Afghan Whigs fame)’s new band, but with the added attraction of Mark Lanegan (who contributed his Tom Waits impression to a mere four songs).  Dulli’s mic stand came with a built-in drinks holder and an ashtray (both used to their fullest) which is usually a sign of a Shane MacGowan-quality performance, but Dulli delivered in style.  Not bad at all.  Keane were up next on the main stage.  There are only three of them, and despite the fat singer’s best efforts at prancing around the stage in a lame attempt to look like a Rock Star, they seemed kind of lost in the middle of it.  Their gentler music isn’t really suited to a festival, and their performance was so disappointing we left early to jockey for position in front of the club stage, where TV On The Radio were up next.  TV… delivered an excellent performance, and would have been my ‘band of the day’ were it not for Massive Attack who closed out the day.  They are touting their recently-issued Best Of… compilation, so it should have been no surprise that they stuck pretty closely to replicating that, live (their set clocking in at 75 minutes – just about the length of the CD!).  We were wondering how they’d resolve the ‘guest vocalist’ dilemma, when none other than Liz Frazer (of Cocteau Twins fame) took to the stage, reprising her Mezzanine contributions.  She was worth the ticket price alone, but with the addition of Horace Andy, and a female vocalist who commendably stood in for Shara Nelson, it was a blinding set.  All they were missing was Tracy Thorn.  Despite the Massive being originally an offshoot of the Wild Bunch Sound System, live, they were outstanding, with the closing Group Four ending in the type of extended tranced-out guitar frenzy that wouldn’t have been out of place at a Mogwai gig.

Saturday
I was in work on Saturday, but managed to skip out in time to make it to the festival to catch Arctic Monkeys, who depressingly look about 17 years old.  They delivered a pretty good performance, even though they had to cope with a horrendous rainstorm that sent half the crowd scurrying for cover (I just opted to get soaked before retreating to my car for a dry jacket) and driving wind that just ripped the sound from the speakers.  And despite singing in a strong Sheffield accent, and using a vernacular that must have gone right over the heads of just about every Belgian in the audience, they went down a treat.  Next was the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, who Peter had been raving about, and insisted I see.  The marquee was packed, so I guess a lot of other people were raving about them, too.  I managed to catch about half of their set from outside the marquee, in the rain (where, strangely,  there was plenty of space!), but wasn’t overly impressed.  The music is OK, but I just can’t get past Karen O’s haircut…  The main attraction of the day (at least for me) was Placebo.  Again, I was unsure how the Placebo sound would hold up to a festival stage, but shouldn’t have worried.  Placebo put in a thunderous performance, getting the whole crowd heaving (not hurling!).  The highlight of the set was a cover of Running Up That Hill by the gorgeous Kate Bush.  I always thought it was quite a positive, up-beat song, but Brian Molko managed to make it sound as pained and anguished as the rest of the Placebo canon - but still making it a performance to remember.  The final act (for me) was Broken Social Scene who were excellent.  They’re from Canada, and (as seems to be the case with all Canadian indie bands) apparently included members of Godspeed! You Black Emperor and Do Make Say Think.  There were ten of them, half of whom played brass instruments, which gave a distinctly Silver Mount Zion edge to the proceedings.  Despite having so many people on the stage, they managed to produce an un-cluttered, cohesive sound that really rocked out the tiny stage they were confined to (compare and contrast with Keane, above).  The final act of the day were Daft Punk, but not being a fan (by a long way!), and having survived the preceding 72 hours on about 6 hours sleep, I decided to give it a miss and head for home (leaving Peter and chums milling around the beer tent).

And that was it.  (Or at least as much as I can remember, nearly a  week later.)  Overall, an excellent three days out, and proof positive that I’m not too old for all this.  In fact, if I learnt one thing from it, it is that I’ll never be too old to enjoy this kind of music.  I’m even looking forward to my kids reaching gig-going age so that I’ll have an excuse for getting to gigs more often…