Melt Review Part 2: Free Beer
Day number two of a festival is by far and away the best. On the first day everyone is too uppity, too hyper and on the third day everyone’s too wrecked to even care, but on day number two when you’re all covered in the same muck and you’ve all slept the same short amount, that’s when a real feeling of community takes root at a festival. It’s a lot like the morning after a one night stand, when you’re both hungover and both looking rough so you figure you might as well get to know each other as no one else is going to have you in that state. The sun’s come out, and then it went back in again, and today Fujiya and Miyagi are opening up proceedings. It really is time they came up with some new material though. Anyone who’s seen them playing in the last 18 months doesn’t really need to again. The Notwist are Germany’s biggest export at the moment, so they’re on the main stage. But when the biggest storm you’ve ever seen whips in across the lake, the stage gets cleared and everyone’s forced to huddle under food stands and umbrellas until it clears off. Jape does better. He’s playing in a smaller tent and the crowd love him. There’s a crowd of young patriots waving an Irish flag at the front. Surrounded by a sea of muck and dirt and kebab stains, the white separating the green and gold of the tricolour is shimmering and clean. Those fine men do their country proud. The rain is still pelting down after Jape. It’s awful. Franz Ferdinand are starting on one stage, Efdemin is about to come on, on another and Bonde Do Role are tuning up on the other side too. But at this stage it’s not so much about who you want to see, more who you can see. Puddles that looked pretty tame yesterday have become lagoons today. To get into Whitest Boy Alive you need a raft or competency at the front crawl. Everything’s been delayed and even during Oizo’s set, they have to take a fifteen minute break for safety reasons. The wooden floor has also broken. Melt is slowly but surely living up to its name. The only consolation comes when word filters through that a small crack in the partition can lead you into the backstage section and Franz Ferdinand’s fridge. With free beer stuffed into every pocket, it makes the rain less unpleasant. Boys Noize finish the night off at eight in the morning. The dancefloor looks like a scene from survivor. The next morning, there’s a steady stream of people leaving. Battles, Los Campesinos, Hot Chip and Bjork are playing that day. Bjork is playing a festival on a lake underneath a full moon yet still people would rather split than wait for that. If a festival can make you that unenthusiastic about an experience like that, then it’s really screwed up somehow. At midday, when the rain stopped for a brief twenty minutes, we left too. .
Day number two of a festival is by far and away the best. On the first day everyone is too uppity, too hyper and on the third day everyone’s too wrecked to even care, but on day number two when you’re all covered in the same muck and you’ve all slept the same short amount, that’s when a real feeling of community takes root at a festival. It’s a lot like the morning after a one night stand, when you’re both hungover and both looking rough so you figure you might as well get to know each other as no one else is going to have you in that state.
The sun’s come out, and then it went back in again, and today Fujiya and Miyagi are opening up proceedings. It really is time they came up with some new material though. Anyone who’s seen them playing in the last 18 months doesn’t really need to again.
The Notwist are Germany’s biggest export at the moment, so they’re on the main stage. But when the biggest storm you’ve ever seen whips in across the lake, the stage gets cleared and everyone’s forced to huddle under food stands and umbrellas until it clears off. Jape does better. He’s playing in a smaller tent and the crowd love him. There’s a crowd of young patriots waving an Irish flag at the front. Surrounded by a sea of muck and dirt and kebab stains, the white separating the green and gold of the tricolour is shimmering and clean. Those fine men do their country proud.
The rain is still pelting down after Jape. It’s awful. Franz Ferdinand are starting on one stage, Efdemin is about to come on, on another and Bonde Do Role are tuning up on the other side too. But at this stage it’s not so much about who you want to see, more who you can see. Puddles that looked pretty tame yesterday have become lagoons today. To get into Whitest Boy Alive you need a raft or competency at the front crawl.
Everything’s been delayed and even during Oizo’s set, they have to take a fifteen minute break for safety reasons. The wooden floor has also broken. Melt is slowly but surely living up to its name.
The only consolation comes when word filters through that a small crack in the partition can lead you into the backstage section and Franz Ferdinand’s fridge. With free beer stuffed into every pocket, it makes the rain less unpleasant.
Boys Noize finish the night off at eight in the morning. The dancefloor looks like a scene from survivor.
The next morning, there’s a steady stream of people leaving. Battles, Los Campesinos, Hot Chip and Bjork are playing that day. Bjork is playing a festival on a lake underneath a full moon yet still people would rather split than wait for that. If a festival can make you that unenthusiastic about an experience like that, then it’s really screwed up somehow.
At midday, when the rain stopped for a brief twenty minutes, we left too.
If you missed the first part of this review here it is For all other news .
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G3RTY
Jaysus, glad i was forced into giving this one a miss. I was in Berlin last year after Sonar for a week and dont think ive ever seen as much thunder storms, another year of wet holidays could just tip me over the edge.......: )