Wednesday 5 September 2007

An Electric Odyssey - The Saturday

An immense Super Extra Bonus Party... A blogospheric union... Cian & Cyril and The Galway Nostalgia Buzz... The shameless karaoke of Bonde Do Jokey... Manipulative euphoria at the hands of The Polyphonic Spree... The Shaking of one's Rump... Pretentious pillheads and some trees... Staying in character, regardless...

Awake. Hangover. Quelle surprise. Gallons of coffee. A smoothie. Another bagel. Wheels are set in motion. A cheeky splash of Wild Bucky makes all the difference. To Bodytonic we must venture!

The Super Extra Bonus Party Air Hurley Buzz. Great pic. Via Nialler.

Wherein we find a superlative Super Extra Bonus Party. It may only be midday but the crowd is in the hundreds and decidedly in the mood. The band are in superb form, evidently buoyed by the reaction of said crowd. The sound is fantastic. The intro to "Everything Flows" melts this particular mind. "Favourite Things" is the undisputed highlight. Rodrigo surveys his dominion with an enormous grin. Those slain by this Newbridge posse smile back, utterly content. Huzzah!

My feet, Andy and Aoife. Nialler resides in the background.

Afterwards, I meet Aoife of The Indie Hour and we have a wee chat. An utterly charming lass. Cigarettes and Buckfast are shared, as are highlights and predictions. I, Horace (Ronan) and Andy extend our heartiest congratulations to Nialler (on visuals) and a clutch of the SEBP boys. Satisfaction and nonchalance seem to be buzzes of choice... A fantastic start to the day.

We bump into Cian & Cyril aka SiSi aka the 110th Street DJs. Undisputed heroes of the Galway club scene, it is great to see them perform at the Picnic. They seem totally relaxed pre-Bodytonic set, and we wish them the best of luck... There was no need. Their set is an absolute banger, a typically seamless smorgasbord of inspired tune selection. Bucky and these lads, the definitive Galway buzz. By 3.00pm it is all over, and I am spent. So spent that I miss Malajube in Foggy Notions. A twisted pisser. Was I wrong to do so?

We lie in the sunshine and chat to some new friends acquired during the 110th Street buzz. They are politely mangled, the cheerful victims of a class A onslaught. Yet we care not, for we too are under the power of another... The Wild Bucky. You schizo bastard. After a time, we compose ourselves sufficiently and brave the Bodytonic arena once again. The reason? Bonde Do Role.

The wise and venerable zeitgeist would decree that this is a live band that cannot be missed. Even in my wobbly and impressionable condition at the time, I would have to disagree. The tenacity of this trio of musical chancers is to be applauded, and for a few cheesy samples and shouts I was moderately entertained. However, on reflection this is perhaps the most vacuous performance I have ever witnessed. Oh look, it's two Brazilians simulating sex whilst shouting. They are sweaty too, like when you have a good ride... Look, I get it, it's meant to be a joke. However, how am I supposed to laugh when the punchline is in Portuguese? Never again.

I decide to take a walk. I take in some sights and sounds which I distinctly remember being impressed by... Names and places, however, escape me... I decide to take a break and partake in that particular novelty of the summer festival: the reggae cover band. Easy All Stars Radiodread breathe effortless humour into the grumpy intelligence of Thom Yorke & Co. Sprawled across the grass I sip warm Heineken from a €3 plastic cup, and smile. The slow approach of sunset during a festival, these are the peculiar times...

The Polyphonic Spree - Post Wardrobe Change. Splendid.

Bouncing baby Gandhi on a paraplegic elephant! The Polyphonic Spree blow me away, yet again. Whilst their last two albums never quite achieved the quixotic majesty of their first LP, it is in the live arena that it all makes sense. The ultimate euphoric buzz. Granted, making your average Picnic punter smile is like shooting a paralysed and blindfolded fish in a shoe box, but Tim De Laughter et al are just so very good at it... Their cover of "Lithium" is perhaps the highlight of my weekend. The encore and wardrobe change is totally expected, yet still breathtaking. That lone harpist must have felt like a king.

I miss Final Fantasy. I am seriously annoyed. The mojitos do nothing to quell my self loathing. Gaarrgh! Etc.

Next up, the Beastie Boys and the gig I had anticipated more than any other that day. An incendiary performance. Whilst getting on in years, this group has lost none of its vitality and venom. Hits like "Triple Trouble", "Brass Monkey", "Shake Your Rump", "No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn" and a cathartic "Sabotage" leave me breathless. An intoxicated grin threatens to split my gormless mug throughout. Hugs and high fives are plentiful... The crowd clings to its ability to party. At this stage it is nobody's right.

The Chemical Brothers - "The Sunshine Underground". Immense.

And so the evening closes with The Chemical Brothers. Immersed in an ocean of pill heads, there was little choice but to give it our all. Which we did. However, a collective boredom within could nevertheless be detected. Such is the malaise of the dwindling super-group I suppose. A serious lack of quality recent material becomes quite apparent when the biggest cheers of the night are unanimously given to drops from the Surrender era... However, it must be said that nothing could compete with that version of "The Sunshine Underground"... Also, that sinister march of green robots was a work of freaky genius. A visual unquestionably designed to instill The Fear. Cheeky geeks.

Back to the campsite... Miscellaneous insanity... Brian wearing a sumo suit on the rodeo bull... A superb dismount... The ultimate moral victory... A rave in the woods... Malcontent vibrations... Pretentious scenesters sneer at the wellies with contempt... Grotesque levels of misplaced self-confidence... "I'm Rick James bitch!".... Will the catchphrases ever cease?

Our group dwindles to a mere duo. Handsome and I. A random decision. We assume different identities. He is Fontelle. I, Lavelle. We become androgynous amalgams of Northside scobes and Baptist preachers' wives... We take a walk throughout the entire campsite. People are entertained by our insanity. People are scared. People are both.

The madness eventually subsides as Wild Bucky relinquishes its grip on our enfeebled minds and we return to the tents. Sleep beckons, but first I must assuage one last desire.

I acquire a Caesar salad bagel. Satisfaction. Oblivion.


nialler9 said...

great revue dude! sorry about sunday night/monday morning i just couldn't get the words out of my mouth. tis to be expected i suppose.

And we may have been nonchalant but we were smiling inside after that set!

John Cav said...

Hehehe... No worries. You should have seen me an hour later. Pretty much a vegetable. A total write off :)

As for the smiling inside, totally warranted man. That set was easily one of the highlights of my weekend. A cracker!

aoife mc said...

Just read Friday and Saturday, I'm going to take a wee break and get some lucozade so I can take on Sunday as well! Sums up the weekend in such an eloquent way, nice one. Charming lass eh? I wasn't so charming on Sunday night when I was throwing up outside the go!team tent, wherever the hell they were playing! I can't even remember.
I've got the post-picnic blues now. Wish I was still down there...:(

John Cav said...

As do I Aoife, as do I.

I'm actually trying to wrangle me a ticket to Cois Fharraige this weekend... Something to divert my attention from the post-Picnic blues. I got them bad lass, and that ain't good.

The initial Bucky blues were worse though... Whimper :)