Leeds Day Two, Part the Second: Whacking the Hell Out of a Snare Drum

And we ate quickly, then returned to the Main Stage to enjoy Elbow and Muse. Let me say that again. Elbow and Muse. I like saying that. Two of my favourite bands in one sentence. Elbow and Muse. (Okay, I'll stop now.)


I was slightly... well, apprehensive is over-stating it, since I really think Guy Garvey's charm has taken on the power of a force of nature, but I was interested, let's say, to see how Elbow would cope with the Leeds crowd, particularly that part of it which had been hanging around in the mud for hours in the hope of getting prime position for Muse. I need not have worried, since their patented opener of ambling on stage, fag in mouth, pint glass raised aloft, is usually guaranteed to win the crowd. (I'm reminded of the tale of the journalist who went to interview Elbow in a pub before a gig, and ended up staying there with them for most of the afternoon. Towards the end, he looked at his watch and muttered "Bloody hell, aren't you on in an hour?" The band nodded and made to leave. Catching his stare at the table littered with empties, Garvey apparently looked at him, winked and replied "Don't worry - we haven't gone on stage sober in 16 years".)


If anything, Elbow were probably what the crowd really needed, even if they didn't know it. I'd read an interview before hand in which Guy Garvey stated they were going to "do the cheesy festival stuff", and there was certainly plenty of "this section of the crowd, cheer loudly... now this section cheer EVEN LOUDER... now let's all wave our hands in the air", but this was no bad thing given the risk of incipient hypothermia. Also, Elbow these days have The Songs. Everyone knows "One Day Like This", which may well be one of the best closing tunes ever, in my entirely biased opinion, but "Neat Little Rows" and "Grounds for Divorce" are bloody good, especially with the light show going off at full blast behind them and Garvey whacking the hell out of a snare drum.


Appropriately enough, though, given that it's the song Elbow fought to play live on the BBC after winning the Mercury, "The Loneliness of a Tower Crane Driver" was The Moment. You don't tend to hear about "Leeds Moments" in the same way as "Glastonbury Moments" (or "Reading Moments" either - funny how being at Leeds makes you feel like the poor relation), but this was it. It is still the song that gets me every time when I listen to "Seldom Seen Kid", and I swear I saw the entire crowd at Leeds staring open-mouthed at the stage, temporarily transported by the sheer force of emotion coming from the stage. After that (and this is not a sentence I type often), Muse had a hard act to follow. Next time...

Leeds Day 2, Part the First: The Mud Has Reached Glastonbury Proportions

And it rained.

It rained, it rained, and then it rained some more. It rained during the night, it rained when we woke up, it took a brief pause in the morning, and then it rained the rest of the day.

We filled in the morning hours by seeing Mark Thomas recounting his tale of walking along the Palestinian – Israeli wall, and nearly being shot by the Israeli army. It was told with great vigour and amusement. After that, we turned up our hoods, tucked in our trousers, donned our T-shirts and trekked back to the Main Stage bar to start our noon to six shift.

Rarely have I ever been so glad at a festival to be working. At least for six hours we were inside a sturdy, waterproof tent with ready access to a toilet and some hot drinks. I’ve never served so many people who looked at risk of incipient hypothermia. By the end of the shift at 6pm, I was ready to start handing out blankets and hot water bottles to people instead of pints of Tuborg.

We had the usual cider saga of faulty machines, although given the rain, it’s not surprising. I vividly remembered my first Glastonbury, when the rain knocked out all the MDUs on site. The only drink we had for sale was the real ale, since you pour it from a cask. I’ll bet the real ale suppliers were very happy that year.

I also vividly remembered the other reason I like Glastonbury: big tents and lots of coffee and bar tents. Admittedly Leeds has lots of big tents, but it’s short on bar and coffee tents, which is a problem in this weather – people need somewhere to sit and chill out – or in this case warm up – and hide from the rain.

Still, we did have two big things to look forward to, a) Elbow and b) Muse. Two of my favourite bands of all time. We ate pizza, and then headed to take up our places in front of the stage.

Leeds Day 1, Part the Third: The View From Up Here

Again, my team bravely faced the Demons of Poor Organisation and Poor Timekeeping. Yup, we ended up as the only team on the bar. Three of us in one of the busiest bars on site. All credit to the bar management, who pitched in with a will, but we stayed on for two extra hours, and the team supposed to be relieving us failed to turn up despite the manager’s increasingly desperate radios to the site office.

After two extra and highly frantic hours, we’d finally had enough and left the unfortunate bar management staff to cope. There’s a limit to how long you can keep going on your feet with no break and no food. We reached ours, and left in search of food, which we found in the form of a Thai curry in the main arena. I’m usually good at truffling out the food stalls on site that make food out of actual ingredients, and my nose had not deserted me.

A curry and a pint later, we roamed throughout the site, vaguely intending to get into the Silent Disco tent, but the massive queue put us off. A and C headed for the Beer Company bar, and I took a ride on the Ferris Wheel, which I’ve always rather wanted to do. We rendez-voused for a quick pint and check of the weather forecast on C’s smartphone (not promising), then fell into our tents and fell asleep.