The A9 is one of the least loved and most dangerous roads in Blighty, 117 miles of schizophrenic scenery commentated by milk toast radio warning the fearful natives on the hour that 'revelers' are descending in a Khan-like wave upon Inverness. "The Revelers... are coming!" they scream into the car speakers, "Hide yer wives an' yer bairns! The Revelers are coming!" As farmers collect their canned foods and pitch forks before descending into storm cellars. Maybe...
When I arrive to a windy, cold and drizzled campsite the entire sky is overcast with foreboding. That being said the main venue is filling up with early arrivers half cut waiting to see Crystal Castles open the main stage. It's a curve ball, in a way, from the bookers. Putting such an audience dividing act on this early is like walking into someone's house only to be hit in the face by a marmite and banana sandwich. Some may take the gesture as an act infinite kindness, while others think of it as an act of war. Alice Glass swaggers onstage with a nearly necked bottle of Jack and a serious 'f-you and the horse you rode in on' attitude sparking a crush at the barrier resulting in one young girl being taken over the barrier and the red show stop card being completely ignored for half a song. It's possible that her punk ethos is a fire starting catalyst yet, they manage to make it through without causing severe injury. When the brakes are finally applied and the crowd are forced to move back the contempt seething from the back of the anxious arena devolves into boredom and the band's audience dwindles for the latter part of their chaotic though utterly mesmerising set.
Talking a walk round the arena I notice that the blow up chapel that was so customary before has been removed to make way for the elaborate Robert Wiseman milk bar complete with Kubrick inspired moloko-plus interior which is the second most comfortable looking venue next to the Strongbow Stage. Situated in the middle of what was traditionally the walkway to the main stage and in between Wiseman and Strongbow is the Arcadia stage, which looks like Tim Burton got a wild hair up his you-know-what to remake Blade Runner and set it in a dark steam-punk city from the year 3000. Bare trees wrap around flame-gushing Victorian street lights and in the centre, in the middle of the tower straight out of Nemesis the Warlock, is situated the hidden DJs. It's all very stylish, it's all very well executed, and although everything is so densely packed in and constant, ultra high level, sound is absolutely everywhere, it's jolly good to be back.
If there is one are in which Rockness shines it is it's execution of 'the festival' in a smaller scope than that of T In The Park. VIP camping is available for a small concession (a measly £20) when you pick up your tickets, as it was last year, allowing people to have access to better toilets, more camping space and even showers. The philosophy the organisers have toward the festival experience is one that should be commended, too long have we dealt with 'ambience' in the form of, 'that festival toilet smell'. The excellent food stalls from last year, (ie; food from Argyll- righteous stovies!) are back along with a new big M&D's big wheel and the zorb-bungee thing that scares the livin' bejesus outta me. When I spot a huge monster so far away that it almost looks two dimensional I start to wonder if I left my drink somewhere I shouldn't, until I get a mini monster for free off some dude promoting the job website.
Friendly Fires, without the studio trimmings are a fairly infectious electro pop band. It feels, for myself at least, that the death has been taken out of the death disco for this performance, complete with sax and trumpet. As a visual, the band make for a... unique viewing. The elastic limbs and hips of Ed McFarlane are either the most hilarious things I've ever seen or the most rhythmically sexual movements I've ever seen. Either way, I'm not laughing out loud and neither is anyone else. The band race through their percussive and powerful set with all the conviction of main stage veterans I doubt it will be long before we see these lads moving further up the bill if their work ethic is anything to go by.
Over at the Clash stage Enter Shikari pull out a flippin' blinder, pounding out their Nu-er Metal (it's not post hardcore- cause there was never any hardcore) to an adoring faithful. What are they putting in the water at St Albans? Guitarist Liam Clewlow and bassist Chris Batten are as exciting as any wingmen you'll ever see, swapping stage sides when Batten's mic goes down with ease, bouncing around like old movie lunatics while churning out low tune sludge metal riffs to huge beats. It's an inspiring sight to see so many glow stick carrying, shell-suit wearing ravers dance to the stuff they used to threaten to kick me in for listening to.
Making a beeline back to the main stage in time for Fatboy Slim's ominous intro video, featuring dark storm clouds, which he needn't had bothered making with all the clouds in the sky. Norman Cook pulls out his usual bag of big beat tricks, hitting us with a quick line from 'Praise You', before his sheer bass drum molestation sends Rockness into a dance madness. As with all of his shows there is no rest, no real dynamic, just relentless dance-tastic tunes. A quick spin of the head reveals that Rockness truly loves this man's sets.
However only a few short seconds later reveals in it's stead an exodus to the Clash tent where Pendulum have just begun to own. 'Showdown', is one of those tunes that should be downright cheesy, but is just downright class and it's not until 'Voodoo People' that I realise when I had that feeling before. They sound pin sharp and as tight as a nun's elastic band collection, the bass drum is so clear against the rest of the texture that it's impossible to not have some kind of bodily reaction to the testosterone powered beat. It's going to be very tough for anything to come close to the reaction that this band receive or the level this band set, having even come on earlier than expected in order to have a longer stage time. Kings of Friday night, I dub thee, Pendulum!
Photos by Louise Henderson
Words by Ross Gilchrist
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