The 2009 Reading and Leeds Diaries - Dananananaykroyd
By: SoundProof Magazine
Thursday 27th August
So . . . it's the Thursday before the Reading Festival and I'm getting the train up to Glasgow to meet my bandmates and realising that we're just about to play our first set of shows since our drummer/singer (and now just 'singer') John broke his arm in Australia. OMG, GUYZ. We'd been in rehearsals with our new 'other' drummer, Scott Simpson (who is our amazing Tour Manager/Driver/Roadie/Dad) that week and things were sounding good, but it hadn't quite hit me that we were now going to play GIGS in front of PEOPLE at FESTIVALS.
Anyway, after slapping myself in the face with a fish, I hooked up with the band, our soundman Steven and my other half and we piled into the van to make yet another journey down to London. Seriously, I think we've done this journey nearly twenty times already this year! Duncan had sensibly packed a pile of CDs so our journey was soundtracked by Urusei Yatsura, The Delgados and this weird but amazing '50s and '60s rock 'n' roll compilation.
Dinner at Nando's (a touring institution) and it was back to the hotel to catch up on some Zzzzzs as we were gonna have an early start on Friday . . .
Friday 28th August
OH MY GOD WHY AM I AWAKE AT HALF PAST SIX IN THE MORNING? I HATE EVERYONE!
After slapping myself in the face with a fish, repeatedly, we all met at the van where the aforementioned Scott Simpson and our manager MC Crabby Crab joined us and made the hour long journey to Reading, twisting through traffic like a ghost on the highway (wow, poetic AND a Gun Club reference!) and munching on Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I need to take a break here to enthuse about Krispy Kreme doughnuts: THEY ARE AMAZING. CONSISTENLY.
So; Reading. Did anyone else realise it was actually on the edge of the city in some sort of sports centre? I'd always had the impression that the festival took place in some sort of mystical 'Aaaah-aaaah-aaaaaaah' field near some middle-class suburb. Anyway, it doesn't! There ah says it.
The entrance to any festival is always EXACTLY the same . . . you drive around, make at least three wrong turns, blame them all on Colin, get spoken to by twenty three different security guards (who are all Scottish for some reason) before eventually finding your stage, getting told "you can't park there" but parking there anyway because we're more badass than you are and no-one's gonna mess with Scott 'Jackhammer' Simpson, ok? Also, Duncan is a giant and will crush you if need be.
Fortunately, everything was running smoothly at Reading. The local crew members were great and unloaded all our gear in about ten seconds. Being first band on means you get a bit more time to fine-tune your setup. Scott and I had a drum riser each which has always given me a sense of superiority over my other bandmates.
Midday rolls on and we're onstage—first band of the weekend! The heavens open, the rain falls like Arsenal striker Eduardo (football reference for you there) and before we know it, the tent is ABSOLUTELY FULL. I have since found out that the tent holds 10,000 people. Jesus Christ!
Despite my drumkit sliding all over the riser throughout the 30 minutes we're onstage, we have an enjoyable show. The crowd grows in enthusiasm with every song and by the end are creating some sort of whirlwind made of limbs. Impressive, guys!
We load out our gear right away, hit the hospitality tent for some lunch and then head over to the media area to do what feels like 1000 interviews. A few drinks later, after some of us watch The Deftones and the others watch The Horrors, we convene at the van and drive down to Dover to our Travelodge. I'm rooming with Duncan and Calum who have both been drinking. This = fun. Moderate fun, however, as we have an early start on Saturday . . .
Saturday 29th August
OH MY GOD WHY AM I AWAKE AT HALF PAST SIX IN THE MORNING? I HATE EVERYONE!
After slapping myself in the face with a fish, repeatedly, publicly, I join my pals in the van and we make the short journey to the port at Dover as we are heading over to France to play the Rock en Seine festival. Having played a couple of shows in France earlier this year, we were looking forward to this festival. Our French fans have always been very nice to us.
This time the journey is far more pleasant; the weather's awesome, French roads are immaculate. We reach the festival site in good time and have a leisurely stroll around the grounds before the gig. Really nice festival this one. Festivals in mainland Europe are always great. The promoters really know how to treat bands. We sit outside our dressing tent (no
portakabins here, mofos) watching The Horrors play table tennis and the guy from The Offspring wander around aimlessly before getting driven by Action Man to the stage.
We have 45 minutes to assault Paris and we have a great time doing it. Incredible crowd, really responsive. Gigs like this always encourage us to play harder, louder, BETTER! Scott and I break a dozen drumsticks, Calum and John get lost in the crowd and Duncan, Ryan and David pull the most ridiculous guitar shapes you've ever seen. I really enjoyed this one.
Amazing Wall of Cuddles too!
Great catering, a superb rider, they even gave us a on e-off poster some artist had made for us. THANK YOU PARIS.
So that was all great. Got to talk to lovely French people, ate and drank like kings. Oh, but we'd better go get the ferry which leaves just after midnight . . .
Hang on . . . What do you mean we've got to drive all the way to Leeds tonight???
Sunday 30th August
OH MY GOODNESS, IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD.
We have been driving all night. I'm not kidding. We have been driving all night.
The journey to Calais was pretty uneventful. Scott and I listened to most of The Queens of the Stone Age and ...Trail of Dead albums while the kids made a racket in the back. At the ferry terminal, Ryan performed what can only be as a 'rave worship routine' to a car playing bangin' tunez. We saw the aftermath of a little kid bashing his head off a metal pole. There was a group of about 20 idiots in suits and hats playing football. Badly.
We were pretty much first on the ferry and we did that thing that people do where they find the comfiest sofas and stretch out all over them so that no-one else can sit on them. YEAH THAT'S RIGHT. I'm not sorry. I wanted to go to sleep, ok? I understand we angered a series of middle-aged women who spent the whole journey tutting and shaking their heads at us. Seriously, grow up. (Ehhhh, you know what I mean.)
Growing increasingly more digital (this is a Dananan phrase we use to describe all manner of brain-wrong) as the hours passed, we looked at the Sat Nav and realised it would be 6 o'clock IN THE MORNING before we even got to our Travelodge.
Cue one of the most epic drives of all time courtesy of Scott. The high/lowlight? Around 4am when Duncan turned round and asked Scott if he was ok . . . "I'm losing it! I can see things jumping out in front of the van!" replied Scott.
Madness. He was locked in the mind-vice! The hex had fallen and could not be broken! Turning on the loudest album on his iPod proved to be the only way to counteract the onset of mindmelt. We forced him to stop at a motorway services.
Fortunately, he got us to Wakefield safe and sound. THANKS SCOTT!
However, it was 6am and we were leaving just after 9am. AAARRGHHH I HATE EVERYONE!
After three hours of empty 'sleep' we were back in the van again, absolutely losing our minds. No-one had really slept over the last couple of days and the words "let's go home" came up a few times. However, we pulled our socks up, slapped each other in the face with a fish repeatedly, publicly and with the best of intentions and went to Leeds.
Again, more Scottish security guards. Are Scottish people harder than everyone else and that's why it's only my people who man festivals? Anyway, we had yet another friendly and helpful crew at Leeds to help unpack and carry us to our dressing room.
1200 arrived quickly and before we knew it, we were back onstage again. I have to be honest and say that the Leeds crowd out-partied the Reading crowd . . . The tent was packed again but there was a rowdier atmosphere this time and two songs into the set, we'd forgotten about our rotting brains and were on good form. We got so carried away that we ended up running over by a few minutes and THEY CUT THE POWER! Seriously . . . 15 seconds before the end of the set, all the amps got switched off. Rotters. Anyway, a good show, fun crowd and, more importantly, EXCELLENT lunch.
More press (we simply cannot answer any more questions about our name, pleeeeasssee) and bumping into a few familiar faces before shuffling half-dead back to the van. HOMETIME!
I spent the journey playing Football Manager on my MacBook, listening to Ducktails and arguing with David and Ryan about Die Hard (I hate it, they love it) and by 7pm we were back in Glasgow.
So . . . what have we learned this weekend? Driving 194377437456 miles in a splitter van is crazy. Festivals are fun. Sleep is underrated. John CAN still perform with a broken arm (phew!) and I need a new drumkit please.
I had fun. Our fans are the best.
Paul xxx
Video: "Black Wax" by Dananananaykroyd
