It’s hard to imagine that a situation meant to be “entertainment” could be better designed to turn a crowd into animals.
Picture this: it’s the end of the night, and you need a toilet. There are only a very inadequate number of portaloos. The smell suggests that they are overflowing. It’s dark. Earlier in the day, a mile long queue had formed in reasonable orderly fashion. But now the sun has gone and so have the manners. A rugby-like scrum of muddy festival goers and umbrellas is jostling for position. Around the outskirts most of the men and some of the women have given up hope and are using the fence instead.
It’s really quite unpleasant. And I’m actually quite glad it’s raining. Maybe that will help wash some of the filth away.
Welcome to V festival.
I’m quite surprised so many people felt the need to go to the toilet at all, given that it took us one whole hour to reach the front of the beer token queue, only to realise 15 minutes later that there was an unadvertised non-Carling branded cash bar tucked away in the corner with no queue at all.
But this is an arts website, and a review of a music festival, so why so much talk about toilets and beer? Because this was this aspect of the festival that overshadowed even the big name stars, not to mention the music. It wasn’t just the odd queue mixed with the bit of rain and mud you’d expect to encounter at a British summer festival. It was terribly bad, cost-cutting and thoughtless organisation that had the potential to ruin your night… or give you dysentery.
Perhaps more offensive than the terrible organisation and inadequate facilities was the attitude of Lily Allen – one of the big names playing. She spent most of her set prancing about the stage, giggling, talking about herself and alternately bitching about anything that crossed her mind. Women’s magazines, (ever heard of the expression “biting the hand that feeds you”, Lily?), oil companies (did you catch the train here Lily?), men with undersized genitalia, and the other performers at the festival were amongst her targets. But with a limited playlist, she was really in no position to criticise the Manic Street Preachers, who were not only above her in the line-up but seemed to have already proved their longevity as performers. When she announced her opinion of their upcoming set as “an hour of boring shit”, the crowd booed her mercilessly.
Virgin Mobile text messages (did I mention this was a sponsored event?) flashing up on rotation on the big screens between performers contains pearls of wisdom that festival goers sent in to a premium number, such as “Hot chick in shorts, turn around, I’m behind you”, or similar. Nice.
Don’t get me wrong – it wasn’t all bad. I did enjoy myself. Mark Ronson and friends put on a really good set. And Kasabian got the crowd roaring.
The headliners on the main stage, The Killers, were very slick, seasoned performers. But even they seemed to be giving a repeat performance of their Glastonbury show, minus the fireworks and silver suit. Same intros to songs, same songs. But unlike a lot of other performers their finesse meant they succeeded despite the drunk and angry attitude of a largely disinterested crowd.
Cramped conditions prevailed though, and as The Killers’ “Virgin” stage went quiet between songs all you could hear was the thumping base of Basement Jaxx on the neighbouring “4 music” stage. Not a great set-up.
The clincher was the very end of the night, when we tried to leave the carpark. No directions were supplied and we spent half an hour queuing for a gate that turned out to be locked. A policeman stationed on the other side of the gate, apologised, saying “what happens on the roads is my concern, what happens in there is up to V”. Quite right, and no one from V seemed present, let alone concerned. Then another half hour was spent queuing to get out the gate which actually was open. I was just glad not to be camping.
What’s most vivid is the memory of the bad organisation, and rampant commercialism which overwhelmed the rather underwhelming performances. What a shame, when there were some really good acts on. If you want to a festival with soul, give V festival a miss.
