Leeds Festival, Day 3, Part the Second: Let's Watch This World Explode

We headed in search of food. Specifically, a stonebaked pizza. There was a huge queue, which is always the way. The only van that doesn't have a huge queue is the "Goodness Gracious Healthy Foods" vegan stall. Here, all was chaos and order as people with flour in their hair ran around throwing dough about and yoicking pizzas in and out of ovens. I ordered one with butternut squash on, and it was delicious.

With time to kill, I joined A in seeing Noah and the Whale - the deal being that I saw them with her, and she saw My Chemical Romance with me. I'd never seen them before and was curious. And they were very, very good. The turnout was fantastic. We were stood near the back, behind two men with matching Bert-and-Ernie-from-Sesame-Street hats, but it did look like the band were thrilled by the crowd, and made every effort to give them a good time. We jumped up and down, we sang along to "Bohemian Rhapsody", and I'd discovered a new band.

From the new to the old, as it were; it's somewhat of a surprise to think that My Chemical Romance have been around for ten years. (Possibly not as much of a surprise as it may be for the band, given their previous personal histories.) Leeds and Reading, famously, were when they were bottled by angry Slayer fans. (Gerard Way's take on it: "So I come on stage, I have white hair, I look like a super creep, everything about me screams 'Throw piss at me'...".) They swore that they would not return unless they were headlining, and four years on, here they were, and here was I. Having missed them in 2007, I would have been deeply, deeply, irritated if it had happened again, but it hadn't. And, even better, it wasn't bloody raining.

I had that faint nervousness I usually get around watching My Chemical Romance live, although I was distracted by 30 Seconds To Mars's final show, in which the audience were invited to invade the stage, and did so with gusto, screaming along to a song the name of which I do not know. Gotta say they don't grab me. All was silent... and then, BANG, My Chem were onstage and I forgot all nervousness and tiredness, and prepared to be entertained.

And boy, were we entertained. C, A and I jumped up and down until we spilled our drinks. I have never seen a band give so much to one performance, with the possible exception of Blur at Glastonbury 2009. You could see in their eyes "We are headlining, and fuck it, we will demonstrate that we have got what it takes". (What they didn't have was Brian May, who only showed for Reading, but frankly I didn't care.) A asked wryly if Gerard Way's hair was really that colour. (Me: "The colour depends on what album they're promoting at the time".) It was a brilliant, brilliant gig. The only very minor thing I would have changed is the absence of "Bulletproof Heart", which is probably my favourite My Chem song, but you can't have it all.

Back to the WBC village, still riding the high, and we joined in the late-night party in the bar. I drank slightly too much, learned the words to "I Wanna Be Sedated" by the Ramones, and we had a great time. One day left, and so far it had been brilliant. Could Pulp knock it out of the park for the trifecta? We could only wait and see!

Leeds Festival Day 3, Part the First: Real Blues and Fake Amy Winehouse

And action. Come Saturday morning, we headed back out in search of breakfast and music, before our midday to 6pm shift kicked off. The catering team were doing sterling work. I told them this. I make a point of doing so each festival; they always look so grateful. Shame they couldn't have made the porridge taste of something - you had to douse it liberally in dried fruit and maple syrup to achieve edibility - but there's a limit to what even miracle-workers can do.

C and A were still ribbing me about last night, when I'd mentioned that I was drinking red wine in tribute to Matt Bellamy, whose favourite drink it is. I maintained that: "Fandom is happening to read an interview in a magazine where he mentioned he likes red wine. Stalkerdom is where you try to find out what sort of wine it was and buy it". (Also, I really like red wine, and find it pleasantly warming at festivals. It also lubricates the creative processes, which is why I'm drinking it, right now.)

C had headed off to meet his mates, who were attending the festival as ordinary folks, leaving A and I to see what was happening. Fortunately, the mud was rapidly drying, and with the festival in full swing, there was music. We headed in the direction of one of the big tents (can't remember if it was the BBC Radio 1 or NME tent, don't care enough to look it up) to experience the delights of "Pulled Apart By Horses", heard what sounded like ten minutes of non-stop screaming emitting from it, and just as swiftly did an about-face and headed in the direction of the other big tent to see a blues band called "She Keeps Bees". This proved to be an up-and-coming American bluesy rock bank, fronted by a down-to-earth woman with blond hair, a demin shirt, and a guitar. Since she could sing, we enjoyed it. (I'm sure "Pulled Apart By Horses" are great, if you're into that sort of thing. I just prefer singing to screaming.)

Alas, good things must end, and bar shifts must begin. We yomped off in search of our bar, stopping on the way to buy a souvenir T-shirt for a friend of A's, a good-natured young lad who apparently once had a bad experience at Leeds involving ketamine. We found a suitable souvenir saying "Ketamine: Just Say Neigh". I pondered buying one, then remembered my rule about not buying stuff at festivals, and joined A on the yomp to the bar.

The bar shift was not too bad. Yet again I must praise the hard work of the other servers and the bar management, who were excellent. Things weren't too bad; busy, but not unmanageable. My nightmare is that I'll accidentally serve someone underage and get fined £80. So far it hasn't happened. Thank God, this year Leeds had decided to give people the option of buying a pink "I'm over 18" wristband for a few quid, which made life infinitely simpler for them and us. We were also visited by two men who apparently felt the need to pay tribute to Amy Winehouse, which made a refreshing change from the legions of students wandering around in full-length cow or horse outfits. I was so impressed I took a picture.

Between that, the odd fifteen minutes here and there spent listening to the acts on the main stage (nothing you'd want to write home about) and the odd break at the back of the bar, the shift passed pleasantly. I say pleasantly. Our bar was near the "fairground" area of the bar, meaning that all breaks were punctuated every minute by a giant fairground ride whirling overhead to the accompaniment of frenzied screaming. (Watching the ride to see which of us could spot the most terrified face on it soon became a favourite pastime among off-duty bar staff.) For some reason, they didn't insist that people take their shoes off before going on the ride, meaning the breaks were spiced with the low-level concern that at any minute a welly might fly off and wang you in the head. It didn't happen, I'm pleased to report.

We survived our six hours without £80 fines or being hit by flying Wellingtons, collected our drinks tokens, and escaped. I was really happy with how the festival was going - C, A and I were getting along just fine! We had a couple of hours to kill before My Chemical Romance hit the main stage, so there was only one thing for it.

Have a stonebaked pizza, and go and see Noah and the Whale. Of whom more later...

Leeds, Day 2, Part the Third: Soylent Green and Giant Tuning Forks

And now it was Muse's turn to dazzle. Oh, how we looked forward to it. I'd strolled past the stage being tested the day before, and taken some rather blurry photos of giant tuning forks, instantly recognisable to any Muse fan as the image from the CD cover of "Origin of Symmetry", which Muse intended to play in its entirety. This split opinion. Some thought it brave, others pointed out that their most famous tracks ("Hysteria", "Supermassive Black Hole", "Stockholm Syndrome") are from albums 3 and 4 and no-one apart from die-hards can remember what "Screenager" or "Hyper Music" sound like.

Personally I was in favour of it, on the grounds that a band that just gives people what they want is a band doomed to achieve little more in future. Also, let's face it, when you can sell out Wembley Stadium, you're allowed to do things because you can, which I suspect was the logic here (that, and it's ten years since "Origin" came out). I was looking forward to it, even if it did mean that I'd have to stand through "Screenager". I don't hate it as much as a friend of mine hates "I Belong To You" (from "The Resistance"), but it's not my favourite.

We passed the drinks and nibbles around, and chuckled with amusement as "What's He Building In There?" played over the speakers (I later learned this used to be how Muse used to open their gigs) and then, with a roar of sound and a light show, Muse were on stage, and "Newborn"'s opening chords blasted out over the crowd. Instant hysteria, appropriately enough. (Yes, I know that's a cliche.)

It was a good gig, although the crowd was obviously split between the diehards who were lapping up "Citizen Erased" (probably the most Muse of all Muse songs) and those who had turned up hoping for a mosh to "Hysteria" and "Time Is Running Out" and who were standing around looking confused. You could also feel the sigh of relief from the latter as the opening riff from "Plug In Baby" screeched over their heads, and it carried over into "Citizen Erased". Even "Screenager" wasn't too bad, as it was thoughtfully illustrated with a rather amusing cartoon strip, basically the plot of "Soylent Green" in four minutes done in the style of 1950s cereal adverts. And I did enjoy "Darkshines", always a favourite of mine.

After "Feeling Good" finished, it was straight into the mosh, with the old favourites causing everyone to jump up and down and forget about the mud. (A asked me "Is it me, or can you not understand a word he's saying?" after every time Matt Bellamy opened his mouth - not unfairly, I've never heard anyone so eager to finish talking to the audience and get straight back into throttling a guitar - the contrast with Guy Garvey couldn't be much bigger!) Definitely more of a gig for the fans, then, but a great one.