In the first of our Electric Picnic Round-Ups, Sweary gives us her pros and cons of EP10, in her usual entertaining style.
- Darren
If someone were to ask me what ditties dominated my soundtrack to Electric Picnic 2010, I would have to mention the theme to The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly.
Not because my weekend was filled with great artists, lesser artists, and mud-encrusted crusties, though that would work on one lazy plane or another, but because while I walked through the village of Stradbally, a small tradesman sized me up whilst Ennio Morricone’s iconic score reverberated ominously in my quivering ears. A sign in the window of his siopa advertised a phone number for natives bothered by the influx of festival heads. He leaned against his door, shifting half a wishbone from one side of his gob to the other, while I skittered past carrying half a ton of camping gear on my swiftly-bruising shoulders. He may have muttered “The Greater Good” at my back. I couldn’t get into that ruddy festival soon enough; that’s something they don’t advertise on their website.
The weekend improved from there on in, though, with a line-up featuring both proven festival favourites and new and exciting experiences; unlike many festival line-ups, more like parades of commercial big-hitters than diverse celebrations of music, there was as much to discover at Electric Picnic 2010 than to catch up with. There was always a hovering niggle that, while you bopped along in rhythmic ecstasy to your New Favourite Band, you were missing something mind-blowing/mind-fucking/mindfield-ing in the next tent over, that if you bothered to stray from your carefully scheduled schedule you’d find wondrous happenings underneath every sod. You should have a feeling, at a three-day festival, that a week would just about give you time enough to catch all worth catching, and Electric Picnic provoked that feeling, shovel-loads of it. In short? A personal triumph. In long? I don’t know, why not have a gander at my highs and lows?
SWEARY’S PICNIC PROS:
The Japanese Popstars: Was I ever glad I ditched Hot Chip, caught Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip’s arse end, and was nicely encased in the electronica faithful by the time this Norn Ireland threesome came on stage. Banging beats, infectious air-punching, otherwordly melody, and interesting runners; these boys know how to rock a hedonist’s world.
Seasick Steve: A showman, a gentleman, a hairy man, a great man. Not only did Steve treat his fans to a thrilling set, with anecdotes, short, sharp poems, and instructions for making your own musical instruments out of Morris Minor hubcaps, but he was so very clearly delighted to be at the Picnic, delighted to be sharing his songs, delighted that people were chanting his name back at him. It’s not every day you see an artist respond to his fans the way Steve did on Saturday. Very, very special.
The Food: Not a band name (yet; I bagsie). I really am talking about the grub. I could have spent three days eating. Japanese, Mexican, Spanish, Vegetarian … er, doughnuts … Electric Picnic was all about full tummies and lots of tasty choices. And the prices weren’t overly shocking (apart from at the Gala Shop, where you were expected to trade a kidney for a packet of wet ones and a bottle of Coke).
The Kids: No, really. I was very dubious about how kid-friendly the Picnic could possibly be until I went there, and I have to say, I really thought the presence of the funny, cavorting smallies in fancy dress and painted faces really made the experience that much sweeter. Maybe it’s because I have a sprog myself, who I fully intend to cart along next year.
Body and Soul: Oh, it was lovely. There was a door all on its own in the middle of a field. The main stage was in a dell. Hobbits possibly frolicked in it. It made me want to stop laughing at dreamcatchers.
The entire Mindfield line-up: See Body and Soul, except substitute hobbits for genuinely interesting people doing and saying genuinely interesting things.
The Velvet Luxury Loos: Holy shit, indeed.
Glenn Wool: I admit I only ended up in the comedy arena so I’d have somewhere to sit down while I rubbed sensation back into my welly-area, so Mr. Wool’s wide-eyed drawling of extra-loud, extra-ticklish truths was a fantastic bonus, and one of the discoveries of my weekend. There was a seemingly-quite-ill heckler in the back of the tent who kept shouting about the Twelve Apostles, though. I don’t know whether she was innocently prophesising The End Of Days or had just lost a fight with a bottle of absinthe; she shut up in the end.
The Anti-Room Panels: Biased? Yes, because I write for The Anti-Room; you may put my disclaimer in your pipe and smoke it. Still, I genuinely loved every second of Saturday’s Anti-Room debate on female stereotypes in Mindfield (I missed Sunday’s, due to being a big wet blanket and going home early); it was stimulating and funny and despite my chickening out of the proceedings due to a divil of a hangover (of more, see below), I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Showeroke: I was dubious, I’ll admit. Promoting energy efficiency, ESB sought to give Picnickers a memorable experience on a 100% sustainable stage by mixing the twin joys of hot water and loud caterwauling. With an electric shower powered entirely by bicycles and the chance for brave and drunk people to yowl along to karaoke classics, they did just that. After seeing all the festive people wandering about with their Picnic Power t-shirts, I went along and witnessed it for myself. It was beside the comedy tent, exactly where it should have been. Hi-larious.
Denise and Denise’s boyfriend: Two very much in love people who shared Culch.ie’s campsite and treated us to the most epic, passionate argument since Peggy Mitchell had it out with Pat Butcher. You’re gonna make it, you crazy kids!
David Maybury’s Jonsi Impression: I have to say that I didn’t see Sigur Rós frontman Jonsi’s performance, but I can still say, hand-on-heart, that Mr. Maybury’s impression was better. Oh yes.
And obviously, Johnny Flynn: Yes, I know, I’m as predictable as vegetable soup. He was wonderful, though, scruffy and note-perfect and bashfully alarmed at the drunk Paddies screaming along to Been Listening. “Bet he doesn’t get that in London,” giggled the fan beside me.
But where there’s a yin, there’s a complementary fuck-off of a yang.
SWEARY’S PICNIC CONS:
Missing things: Two Door Cinema Club, Stornoway, Friendly Fires. And my camera. Also my dignity at the Rave In The Woods on Friday night, which I was just informed yesterday I was at.
Insects: You can have your Great Outdoors, you know. If Electric Picnic could be held entirely in a climate-controlled bubble, I’d be very happy. There were more wazzies and spooders than there were crumpled plastic cups, and that’s saying something (you messy bastards). Also, Culchie Seán threatened to throw daddylonglegses at me, which was terrible of him.
The ticket price: It’s still prohibitively expensive. €240, added to the expenses incurred in actually being there, is a lot of money and while the Picnic experience is generally positive, how many of us can justify that kind of spending? I would have had a lot more friends there had it been just a little more accessible a treat, which might have stopped me leaving my dignity in a ditch on Friday night. For shame!
The 24-can minimum at the campsite off-licence: Yes, it’s a lot quicker and more convenient to sell in slabs, but 24 cans per transaction? What kind of damage-limitation is that (especially added to the whopping 48-can limit per person for those bringing drink into the campsite)? On top of that, what danger was there in people bringing cans from the camping areas into the arena? Glass bottles I can understand, but stopping people bringing alcohol bought on site into the main thoroughfare was nothing but mean-spirited. There seemed constant pressure to buy more alcohol with each section of the site you entered, which is hardly responsible, not to mention bloody Scrooge-ish.
But In General, Everything Was Great: I didn’t have a lot to complain about, from the bands’ giving it their all to the delicious veggie burgers on offer throughout, which is not a healthy thing for a committed curmudgeon such as myself. Obviously, the toilets were generally atrocious, but that’s to be expected when you have tens of thousands of icky tummies on site and not a dash of Motillium to be found. All in all, Electric Picnic 2010 was fantastic. See y’all next year!
In my defence I was only going to let you have a closer look at Paddy the Daddy-long-legs
Great review of the weekend. Love your description of the Luxury Loos
I could see quite enough of Paddy The Daddy Longlegs from behind my hands, Sean, you great big bully you. I’ll stick a frog down your jumper next year.
Those luxury loos were indeed the business, like. They were attraction #1 and #2. I was flushed with delight on using them, etc, etc.
Great post Sweary.
Thanks, Peter!
This is a local town for local peaple…
Great post. Be there to keep ya company next yr. At least that way I won’t have to drive up Sunday and collect ya ; )
Swe.Ge! You’re embarrassing me in front of the readers!