Hear Me Out: You should never see your favourite band at a festival
I saw Pulp headline Tramlines recently, which led to a haunting revelation: I’ve been doing festivals wrong my entire life.
We’ve all probably been doing festivals in a very similar way. Sitting back, chilling out, waiting for the lineups to be announced, and then going to the festival which appeals the most. This is the wrong way to do it. My recent revelation made me realise that the right way to do festivals is to lay them out in order of the ones you want to go to the most and the ones you want to go to least, and pick whichever line-up sits mid-table.
Your festival should rank according to your preferences in a similar place to where Fulham finish in the Premier League—not all-stars but no real risk of relegation, somewhere safe, but that equally isn’t going to blow your mind. That’s where your festival choice should be, nowhere higher, nowhere lower.
Why is this? Well, it’s simple. If you go to a festival where lots of your favourite bands and artists are playing, sure, you’re going to be seeing your favourite artists, but you’re going to be seeing them surrounded by people who don’t care as much as you. The songs you know word for word, the tunes that have gotten you through hard times, the musical presence that means more to you than anything, is drowned out by a couple next to you talking over every word, a drunk bloke behind you who reckons he’s the next big thing in comedy, and an annoying toddler who won’t shut the fuck up.
The day was supposed to be big. Aside from Glastonbury, Tramlines was the only festival that Pulp were doing. They were playing to a home crowd, a group of people who not only know their music but also connect with it on an incredibly deep level, understand the references, and have walked the same cobbled streets that provide the backdrop for so many of these songs. This was supposed to be the gig to end them all. This was supposed to be an evening of musical adoration. Instead, it was a group of pissed up people chatting sweet nothings over one another, except for when one of the hits is rolled out.
When you go to an artist’s gig, that artist is preaching to the converted. You’ve all paid money to be in that space at that moment, listening to the entire discography of your favourite musician. At a festival, who knows why people are there? Some might be there for Pulp, but others are there for Kasabian, Red Rum Club, and some poor souls have even bought tickets to see The Reytons. The gig will never mean as much to a large percentage of the festival crowd as it will to you, and their blasé attitude will ruin the entire experience.
I went to see CMAT during the same festival, who opened with ‘The Jamie Oliver Petrol Station’, followed by ‘Take a Sexy Picture of Me’, and some casual next to me told his group of friends, “I can’t believe it, she’s opened with her two biggest songs”. I was tempted to spin this kid’s head right off his shoulders, but in the way of violence came revelation. I shouldn’t be seeing my favourite artists at festivals, the crowd is too much of a mix for me to immerse myself in this gig as much as I want; it’s time to change my approach completely.
So, who should you be seeing at a festival if not your favourite artists? Like I say, you’re looking for mid-table bands, where you know some of the hits but aren’t fully invested in everything they’ve put out. These are the kind of acts where, if people around you don’t seem as invested, or if they’re talking over different songs, you won’t be offended by it. Hell, you’ll probably be one of the people talking; if they’re not playing the hits, why would you care?
“But Dale, isn’t this a bit hypocritical? You’re angry because people are talking over your favourite artists, but you’re more than willing to talk over somebody else’s favourite artists?” Well, I won’t apologise. These people need revelation in the same way it presented itself to me, as a silhouette behind a wall of anger. Their frustration at my ignorance will bubble into an epiphany, one that will see them stop going to the festivals where their favourite bands are and start going to ones where some bands they think are 6/10s are playing.
The future of festivals lies in mediocrity. The modern age of short attention spans and ignorance manifests in the mundane, in festivals that we’re mildly excited for but could give or take. This is a new age for music lovers, or, more accurately, people who think music is a bit alright sometimes.
