I started off this year’s festival by missing out on one of the bands I’ve longed for the most; Buzzcocks. Niklas and I joined the queue outside Henriksberg several hours before the gig but, nevertheless, way too late. I should’ve known. It’s the second time Way out west is held in Gothenburg and this year 24 000 people visited the festival compared to last year’s 16 000. There were probably a lot of Buzzcocks fans among those 24 000 and several hours wasn’t good enough.
At least I learn from my mistakes. That’s why I turned up 4½ hours early for Holy fuck’s gig (1 hour before the doors at Storan even opened). There was no way in hell I was going to miss out on Holy fuck. Even if it meant missing out on The flaming lips, Booka Shade and Neil Young. As if that wasn’t enough, I had to put up with a crappy DJ and his crappy house music. The icing on the cake was the crowd dancing to this so-called music. It seemed like every drunken 17-year old in Gothenburg had decided to turn up at Storan of all places. And so there we sat, Niklas and I, amongst pissed 17-year olds seemingly discovering a club for the first time ever. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. Some boring band from Norrland hit the stage and played their utterly boring music. The youngsters loved it, probably because they were drunk enough to love anything. The band finally left the stage but were soon enough back on to play an encore. The DJ didn’t care though, he started playing his (still crappy) music while the band prayed “can we play another song, please?”. No, they couldn’t. And then suddenly there was Holy fuck! The waiting was definitely worth it. After 4 hours of this crappy music, Holy fuck seemed like heaven. They kept me dancing through the entire gig. As a little bonus, the most annoying girl standing next to me thought the monitors were too loud, and of course she couldn’t move, so instead she tried to pull out all the cables she could grab and she got an electric shock and started whining. You go, smart-ass! Malicious pleasure, indeed.
Apart from Holy fuck, the highlight spells Okkervil river. The setlist was pretty much what you’d expect; For real, Black, Our life is not a movie or maybe, A girl in port and so on. Lost coastlines was a nice surprise though. Patrick later told me how nervous he was about singing Jonathan’s part of the song and play the bass at the same time. Needless to say, he sang (and played) the part beautifully. Just like the last time I saw them playing at a festival, the lack of intimacy was replaced with intense energy. The audience were like panting puppies. Playing at festivals unfortunately means you have to keep the schedule running smoothly, so there was no time or place for anything besides the 45 minutes they got on the stage. That’s silly. Okkervil river should always get an extra hour or two.
During our stay in Gothenburg we visited Eva’s three times, spent a day with my cousin and her family, tried to save an injured crow, found Patrick walking around the festival area looking for the two of us among 24 000 people (and found us, what are the odds!), missed out on the festival food experience ’cause they simply ran out of veggie food, consumed one pair of shoes (my only flat ones) and watched Stephen King movies at the hotel late at night. All in all, it was a great way to spend the weekend.
1 Comment
August 13, 2008 at 1:47 pm
What a sweet and personal post!
Could Holy Fuck be played too loud? I’m about to start a lobbyist campaign to make them come to Sweden again as soon as possible.
Next year I’m gonna bring a gigantic megaphone and the biggest cattle prod that money can bring, to keep all emos and idiots from me.
I’m already looking forward to visiting Gothenburg again, and for another Way Out West, as long as they keep pumping those great artists in!