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Mud-covered Metalheads, Fashion Tips for the Insane and Much More (Leeds 2001 - Part 1)Aug 29 '01 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line Don't expect your mind to be blown, avoid irritating festivalgoers #1 and #2, and don't overestimate your friends' sense of direction. Oh, and steer clear of the cheeseburgers.
Note If you’ve come looking for an Eminem concert review, then don’t worry, there’s one somewhere towards the end of this review. However, this is a review of Day 1 of the Leeds Festival 2001, and since a) Epinions doesn’t have a category for the Leeds Festival, and b) Eminem was Friday’s headline act, I figured this was the best place to post this. Off we go then. Friday, 24 August 2001: Day 1 It wasn’t the best start to the weekend. Not only had it been raining consistently for most of the day, but at 5pm, five hours after the official start of the festival, I was still stuck at home, frantically trying to finish off a correspondence course for my future employers (that was already two days late, but I’d spent the entire week until then working with a mate and a couple of monkey hangers*, helping to lay the running track at the new Commonwealth Games stadium in Manchester. I have appalling time-management skills). Luckily, one of my friends was also running late, and so I was able to get a lift with him. We finally made it to Temple Newsam (the festival site) at 6pm, just as it stopped raining. In hindsight, being late had its advantages: - no 1-hour queue at the wristband exchange (wristbands are used instead of tickets for access to the arena) - no overpriced, Now-With-200%-Extra-Grease! Festival food (at least for that day) - we didn’t have to endure Staind’s set, something for which I will be eternally thankful As it turned out, we hadn’t missed much; the only acts I regret not seeing were Xzibit and British dance-rockers Grand Theft Audio. Friday was unofficially titled Metal Day, with nu-metal acts littering the main and second stage line-ups, as well as ancient rockers The Cult, just to make everyone feel that little bit older. Plus, of course, Eminem, but we’ll get to him later. The freaks had definitely come out in numbers (question: where the hell are they the rest of the year?). The best of the bunch was a 7ft tall dead ringer for Marilyn Manson; from the make-up to the fishnet stockings, the resemblance really was uncanny. Anyway, we’d arrived just as Queens Of The Stone Age were winding up on the main stage. We met up with everyone else, paid a king’s ransom each for a pint of lager and, avoiding the mud puddles, stood atop the hill to watch the next main stage act. Papa Roach I don’t mind Papa Roach, but I spent most of their set chatting to my friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen for months, and staring in disbelief as a young boy (couldn’t have been more than 8 years old), sporting short, bleach-blond hair, dungarees and the same mask Eminem wears during his infamous chainsaw routine, walked by with his dad. I can just picture Dad sending Son to sleep with a soothing rendition of ”Kill You”. Yeah, the festivals really bring ‘em out in their droves. I did turn my attention to the main stage a couple of times, if only to hear the best tracks from the Infest album (”Dead Cell”, “Broken Home” and of course ”Last Resort”), all of which were played with considerable intensity. Coby Dick was his usual tortured self; his between-song banter mainly consisted of the word ‘muthaf***a’, and his crazed facial expression was clear for all to see, thanks to the huge video screens. At one point he climbed off the stage and jumped around with the fans, emerging after a few minutes splattered with mud. Rokk on! In spite of all this, I never really got excited by the Roach’s set. Maybe it was the fact that I was 300 yards from the stage, maybe because they only have three decent songs, or maybe it was because I had to contend with some truly awful techno/house in one ear thanks to the nearby fast food / Henna tattoo / herbal ecstasy stalls. Whatever it was, I can’t say I was sad to see them leave the stage. Up next was Marilyn Manson, who everyone else seemed keen on checking out, but I was far more interested in the Dance tent at that point, as possibly the only decent British hip-hop artist in history was about to start his set. We made arrangements to meet up in time for Eminem, and I trotted off on my own. Roots Manuva Roots hails from South London, and is the man behind two of the freshest and most diverse hip-hop albums of recent years. The tent wasn’t packed, but there was a good crowd in there. The most striking thing about the tent though was the huge cloud of marijuana smoke that hovered above the crowd, which became larger and more potent as Roots’ set was delayed. After an excruciatingly long wait, Roots and his entourage finally took to the stage to a slightly subdued cheer from the audience (obviously numbed by the effects of the pot smoke cloud). He took a few songs to get going, but was soon bounding about the stage with supreme confidence. Musically, the set was faultless; the DJ was excellent throughout, and was aided by a three-piece string section. It was getting late though, and I wanted to catch all of Eminem’s set, so I reluctantly left the tent a few minutes early, just as the thumping bassline of ”Witness” was starting up. Outside the tent, the scene was unbelievable; thousands of people were flocking to the main stage, hoping to get a good look at the world’s biggest rapper. It was around this time that I gave up all hope of finding my friends before Eminem’s set began, so I turned my attention towards getting a good position in the crowd. Eminem / D12 I ended up around 50 yards from the stage, which was quite an achievement. After a couple of minutes, Marshall Mathers and the Dirty Dozen burst onto the stage, and the crowd went nuts. As soon as Eminem began rapping (I don’t know the name of the song, but I’m pretty sure it’s on D12’s Devil’s Night album, I realised I was stood right next to Irritating Festivalgoer #1. Irritating Festivalgoer #1: Mr. Knows-All-The-Words-And-Wants-Everyone-To Know-It. The guy was stood right behind me, and knew every single one of Em’s raps, repeating them back in a thick Northern accent. To his credit, his timing and flow were remarkably good, but I hadn’t come to hear this guy rapping. I was quite impressed at first, but after a couple of songs (he stumbled a bit during ”Sh*t On You”, but I think that was because someone barged him in the back), it became really irritating, and so I fought my way forward a couple of yards, only to be greeted by Irritating Festivalgoer #2: Mr. “HELLO!! I CAN’T HEAR YOU, I’M AT A FESTIVAL!”. To begin with, this guy was even worse; he was calling his friends on his mobile phone, shouting something incoherent into the phone, and holding it as high as he could, so his friends could hear what was happening on stage (and, apparently, so I couldn’t see anything at all other than the type f phone he had).I looked around anxiously; any further forward, and it was crush-or-be-crushed; left and right routes were both impenetrable, and I couldn’t bear to go anywhere near Mr. Knows-the-words, so I gritted my teeth and put up with it. Thankfully, he stopped after a couple of minutes (these people don’t tend to have many friends), and I was able to give Marshall & co. my full attention. So, was Eminem’s performance the most mind-blowing, life-altering thing I’d ever seen? Nah, not really. It was good (I particularly enjoyed ”Stan”, where a Dido-less Eminem invited the huge crowd to help him out with the chorus, which it did with considerable enthusiasm), but then it was completely predictable and not-at-all controversial or shocking. Midway through the set, we were ‘treated’ to a short cartoon entitled ”The Slim Shady Show”, which was an outrageously unfunny and crude South Park spoof. This knocked a lot of momentum out of the performance, but the show soon picked up again when Eminem came back onto the stage, which was this time decorated with two huge inflatable middle-finger salutes. Em stormed through most of The Marshall Mathers LP, and was joined on stage by Xzibit for a blistering rendition of ”What’s the Difference?”. Notable omissions included ”The Real Slim Shady”, and everything from the first LP, which was, truth be told, the most unpredictable this about the whole performance. Finally D12 returned for the highlight of the set, ”Purple Pills”, at which point there was a huge explosion and the stage and surrounding area were covered in purple glitter. Stunning, even if the video is played every 5 minutes on MTV over here. All in all, it was a good start to Leeds 2001. Apart from the fact that I’d lost my friends. My chances of finding them in the arena were very slim, so I headed up to where the car was parked (I had no idea where the tent was), and proceeded to wait for two miserable hours before finally giving up and calling for a taxi. As it turns out, my friend whose car it was had tried looking for it, but gave up when he started to get hopelessly lost (he then went back to get drunk with everyone else), which leads me to General Festival Tips 1) Always remember where your car is parked 2) Torches are a good idea (especially if the festival is as poorly-lit as Leeds 2001 was) 3) Make sure you watch Marilyn Manson’s set. If you don’t, he (or his 7ft lookalike mate) will have his revenge on you. Thanks for reading. In Part 2: Green Day, Run DMC, The Living End, and a lot more. Probably. * for more information on monkey hangers, please visit http://members.tripod.co.uk/fillpoke/Monkey.htm  |
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