(don’t go back to) rockville;

Photo courtesy of my freakishly tall sister!

I was going to open this post by saying that Sunday marked, if not the end of an era, then at least the end of my long-term love affair with Scotland’s most famous outdoor piss-up what has bands at it. But now that a day’s gone by and my mid-morning crankiness, if not my epic sunburn, has faded from memory, I know that as long as my legs don’t get any worse I’ll find a way to get up there next year.

You see, T in the Park has a brilliant atmosphere that you just don’t find anywhere else. I hear and understand the complaints: that it’s full of neds, that it’s just too big, that the line-up is generic and predicatable. It’s true that you can’t walk by anything resembling a wall without finding a young gentleman relieving himself against it (up to and including the back of the ice cream vans), but the banter and randomness quotient – whether the girl with no teeth dancing in her bikini first thing in the morning, or our new friend who dropped his burger – is legendary. As for the line-up… well, with seven or eight tents and stages of varying sizes these days I challenge you to be stuck for something to do for longer than about an hour. Blows the line-up for ths year’s Connect out of the water, anyway. Sure I’ve always liked the sound of ATP, and I drooled at the prospect of End of the Road until my upcoming Australian adventure put paid to that plan both time-wise and financially, but quite frankly the thought of ten hours on a bus smelling like a campsite has never really filled me with the thrill of anticipation.

Saying that, it doesn’t matter how meticulously you timetable your must-see bands at a festival: your best-laid plans will be waylaid by feuding friends, toilet queues, full tents and unpublicised rescheduling. That’s all part of the fun though. Although I caught a bit of the Two Amys (McDonald and Winehouse) on the main stage, I didn’t see a band properly til The Xcerts took to the Relentless Energy Drink Super Douper Mega Stage at some point in the mid afternoon. Before that, I was so despondent about my sister’s questionable mobile phone reception that I spent half an hour talking to someone from the Samaritans! (As well as clapping along in the ceilidh tent for a bit, and spending disproportionate amounts of money on manky pick ‘n’ mix, and dresses that wouldn’t fit.)

So who did you actually see?
Seasick Steve was probably my unexpected highlight of the festival. While I liked last year’s Dog House Music, he’s somebody I’ve never got around to seeing live and so I was pleased to catch the end of his set in the Pet Sounds Arena when I arrived early for the National. The tent was packed, and it was one of the most enthusiastic punch-the-air receptions I’ve ever seen for somebody you wouldn’t consider a typical showman.

And what was even better was that the tent practically emptied once he’d finished, so with a bit of deft manoevering I found myself front and centre for the National. There’s something about the festival setting that kills the usual music snob attitude that has a tendency to emerge in me at gigs, so I could’ve hugged the guy next to me who screamed for “Mr November” in the gap between each song when he wasn’t reassuring the band that they were his favourite. While the fans went wild below, the band were as quietly explosive as they were in the autumn whether Matt Berninger was screaming “Abel” or delivering a devastating “Slow Show”.

I saw Vampire Weekend as well and they were good fun, although the acoustics (and my awkward position under a speaker) in the King Tut’s Tent meant that every time a bass note sounded my eardrums threatened to burst. A text from my old schoolfriend and “REM soul sister” Patricia seemed like a good enough reason to exit when they started playing that piss-annoying song about Oxford Fucking Commas.

As for REM themselves, what can I say? Good timing and determination got my party to pretty close to the front, which was a sea of randomness none of which I could blog about in a way that would amuse anybody but myself. Although quite heavy on tracks from new album Accellerate, their set was like the last decade of my life never happened (not least because Michael Stipe looks as timeless as my old favourites sounded). Hearing “Fall on Me” and “Begin The Begin”, and a sweet acoustic “Let Me In”, was as amazing as yelling along to “Losing My Religion” or discovering I still remembered all the words to “It’s The End of the World As We Know It”. Needless to say, I’ll be having a rummage through the rest of my CD collection when I’m at my mum’s tonight, looking to rescue a few forgotten gems.

Oh, and the traditionally grim festival loos weren’t a problem either – my top tip for next year, if you’re going? Stop by the sexual health tent for a free chlamydia test – you don’t find out the result on the day, so it won’t spoil your weekend, but you get to use a proper toilet with running water and a flush. As one of the many people to whom I relayed this little piece of information to commented: “And if you’ve got it, you should find out about it anyway – it’s a win-win!”

The 2009 rumours have started already – maybe see you there?

PS New Jenny Lewis album details! Also really looking forward to the new Okkervil River, after a day revisting The Stage Names. 2008 gets better and better.