Oh yes, and tenovertwelve might be a bit late this month, as I'll be reinstalling my entire itunes from some speedy backups... gneurgh.
On the bright side, though, Wireless Festival has been greatly improved by the departure of O2. There's still a mobile phone company involved, but they only have a camper van (rather than an entire quarter of the festival) reserved for their phone users only. There's also an UGG Fashion zone and catwalk (apologies to anyone whose brain just ran off screaming) which crucially contained a trailer selling -- oh yeah! Festival mojitos.
I should probably point out that it was a Bacardi mojito. Wireless is branded space. Adverts show on rotation on the big screens between acts. During Snoop Dogg a helicopter trailed an enormous banner advertising online poker over the crowd. The drinks options are drilled down down to a simple series of options, all of which have paid to be the only choice. As you enter, your hands are filled, but not with a programme -- for that you pay -- with advertising fliers.
For all that, it's a likable festival. Roll off the Oxford tube at Marble Arch, stumble into Hyde Park, through the barriers and that's most of the walking done of the day. From then on, it's just booze, sun and dance till an early curfew, then a wander back to Victoria, on the tube again and home. We danced to Autokratz, New Young Pony Club, Missy Elliott and LCD Soundsystem. We sat in the shade and read a good book* to 2manydjs. We listened absent mindedly to Example, The Big Pink and Pretty Lights. We helped a burly Australian fulfil his dream of having one person on his shoulders, and someone else on their shoulders.
For all the brilliant sunshine and awesome music, I couldn't help feeling a slight cloud, though. There was... I guess, a sort of nastiness about some of the crowd. Groups of snarly men in their twenties. The fight club demographic. I have a qualm. I worry that they think that the Condem victory, with its idiot attendant social freedom window dressing, has got them thinking that maybe we're finally going to get that real world, the Tory blogger heartland, where women and pinkos and lefties and ethnics stay in their low-paid, unminded, unimportant place and and no-one tells them to stop smoking or speeding or that no means no, and [rant redacted].
When you feel like that, Snoop Dogg really hits the spot. And then LCD Soundsystem to fully remind you that there is still good in the world, and mirrorballs and bacon sandwiches and pianos playing in luminous twilight.
Hmmm. This installation is really taking a long time...
Also, I could have sworn I saw Ms Gay UK from a few years back in the crowd. Did Commercial Festival 3 steal a little Pride?
*Well, I'm reading a good book - The Last Witchfinder by James Morrow. Tim's reading a Neal Asher compilation.