Hello July! You’re off to a wet start but I welcome you. With July comes the beginning of festival season and with that comes the crazy debauchery that is festival fun. Over the years I’ve seen it all. From those who can’t stand up to those who won’t sit down, from those that won’t say a word to those who won’t shut up. I started going to festivals pretty early in my life. Played a few, ran a few, regretted a few. There’s something about getting a crowd together, outdoors, intoxicated, love in the air and their favourite songs drifting overhead. Years ago I would travel to major shows and be allowed to take pictures from the pit in front of the stage. More times than not, I’d find myself turned the other way around, transfixed by the sea of sweaty smiling faces, pressed against barricades with only a handful of giants between them and the stars they want to touch so badly. And there’s something about the buzz you get as a performer, feeling all that beaming up at you. The thousands of hearts, the thousands of brains expecting this moment to be unlike any other moment. There’s something about being far from the stage too. In the back 40, hearing the music in the distance. The roar of the crowd competing with the campfire you’re sitting around. And there’s something about drifting aimlessly, shouting salutations to perfect strangers, strangers who, just like you, are there to take in the happening. This area is blessed with a great number of crazy promoters who have taken a chance, bringing a band into a field. It’s a growing industry with new start ups all the time. Me? I could make a life of traveling to festivals, big and small. In my dream, there’s a motor-home and it runs on diesel, and I tow my bike and everywhere I go there’s hospitality and a craft table. And I discover that melodious glow in the dark, where songs are loud and people shout. Where you dance on the spot, spill all your drink and tell your partner that you love them. And then, just then, that song you both don’t know the words to begins to play, and, in the dark, an unintelligible sound emits from you both. A sound you’ve ever heard before. It’s glorious and you both die laughing. Those are the memories that bring generations back to the field; for their chance to experience the “uni verse” in all its glory. Ah July, I’ve missed you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some Asprin to pack….
Mb, Keep the faith.