Supersonic Festival

Most people would have had the weekend off after a big holiday but the Supersonic Festival was on and it was the first weekend in sometime where I haven't had to worry about Joshua as he was on holiday with his Mom. I was a bit disappointed that I couldn't persuade anyone to join me and if I'd known that Dan was going to a festie in Oxford I probably would have gone there instead.

I didn't get back to Birmingham from Valencia till around six, I dumped my stuff at home quickly grabbed something to eat and then headed into town to meet my workmates for their payday friday drink. I stayed in the pub with them till about ten and then jumped in a cab to the Custard Factory and got ripped off I feel.

There was some kind of minicab driver protest going on which was blocking the roads but I'm pretty sure taxi driver knew of this and deliberately drove me to it. Fucker.

This was quickly forgotten as I was handed my wristband and rather lush program and into the festival I went. Friday nights are traditionally electronica nights but tonight Sunn 0))) were the headliners who were so fucking loud, so loud I needed to shove bog roll down my ears to stop myself from going deaf. Following the 0))) was Venetian Snares who made a strange d'n'b type noise.

Saturday started off OK I really like the minimalism of Japanese girl group Nisennenmondai but the rest of the day seemed really really heavy (I know it's a most metal festival but this stuff seemed more heavy than usual) which wasn't that fussed about so headed home early(ish).

Sunday was better but was really damp, the music was heavy but cool, I really liked the bands Pontiak, Earthless and Arboretum. I enjoyed Khyam Allami playing the Ude, I think he seemed genuinely suprised at the reception he got from a metal crowd.

I was pretty soaked through and decided to dry off in the Old Crown before watching Caribou. I saw them at Dissonanze at thought they were brilliant but this time they just didn't do it for me and neither did Italian "legends" Goblin.

Overall it was pretty cool and I saw some interesting stuff but it was maybe slightly too heavy for me this year.

Day 14 - Mojito Night.

The last night of my holiday started with Mojitos and ended with me sending a text to my boss at about four in the morning saying that I was in a bar with two attractive blondes and I didn't want to come home.

Day 13 - Botanical Gardens

Today was a day of two extremes.

I spent about three hours relaxing in the Botanical Gardens. Which was most pleasant.

Then...

I was invited to go for a beer with a couple of scouse lads...

...the night finished for me when some Spanish girl with ample boobages tried to dance with me but I was physically incapable of moving.

The sun was starting to come up and I staggered home. I saw a spanish girl cycling towards me, somewhat erratically, she stoped and started saying something about "agua agua", I spoke gibberish to her in English which she didn't understand, she spoke some Spanish gibberish back to me. We were both incredibly pissed I have no idea what she was saying and I guess she has no idea what I was on about either. We stood twittering on at each other for at least 20 minutes. We then said goodbye to each other and headed off in a separate ways.

People were heading on their ways to work as I finally realised where I was supposed to be going.

Day 11 and 12 - Sleep and Modern Art.

Unfortunately Joe and I were daft enough to book a much later train than was sensible, which meant we had to spend the entire day sitting in a zombielike state in a cafe.

I'd booked a first class ticket home which was definately worth the money, nice big seats and plenty of leg room. I couldn't however get to sleep I thought I was going to have a heart attack or something the week had taken its toll. I guess drinking solidly for the most part of ten days and only getting one hangover is just building up to something nasty.

I didn't have a heart attack.

I got to my hostel at around seven in the evening, showered and went to bed. I didn't wake up til about one the next day. I ate.

I visited the modern art gallery and was well impressed with the one exhibition - you had to walk through a pitch black corridor before pushing though a rubber seal to a white room full of posters for (imaginary?) punk rock gigs and huge erotic pictures and day glo graffitti on the walls. In the corner there was a massive soundsystem playing out some beat poetry. Then an alarm went and all the lights in the room cut out and electro house music kicked in and strobes started flying around. Not sure what it was supposed to be saying but I thought it rather cool.

The rest of the gallery was more sensible but had a decent exhibition looking at really small things and really big things. And a collection of Valencian artists from the Modernista period.

Had a fairly quiet night I tried badly to chat up a pretty nineteen year old ginger lass, she didn't run off and bought me a couple of beers so it worked to some extent. ;)

Day 10 - Last Day of Music

The last day consisted off sitting around cafes to stay out of the sun. I drank shandies, Paul slept and Joephie just stayed quiet. We didn't realise that the supermarkets closed around one, Joe harped on about Sunday closing but I hadn't witnessed any difference in Valencia anyhow Paul and I ran around like headless chickens for a while.

Sophie had strop, she ordered a lamb kebab and got a lamb kebab then jumped up and down saying she wanted chicken, the waiter said 'mixta' and she said 'yes'. Then she was hopping about because he returned with a chicken and lamb mix. Then didn't eat her food.

As with the other nights we had some beers around the camp and then met up with Rob and cronies. I don't actually remember watching anything for more than about ten minutes...Paul didn't seem to happy that the majority of the acts were dancey. I couldn't keep in one place and wandered from stage to stage. It was a disjointed evening, there were no acts that I actually wanted to see. We stood for ages waiting for the Killers but when they started people were jumping around all over the place and I couldn't see fuck all and had no inclination to jump up and down for an hour so thought bugger this. Wes and Ian joined me. We drank a lot.

Then it was going home time DJ Hell was saying something about it being a highly special moment or somthing. Enthusiastic Joe was still hopping around like somebody who drank too many red bulls. We got back to the campsite and Sophie was packing up ready to catch her bus and plane home.

Then the festival was finished.

Day 9 - Fib Saturday

This was the day that I drank constantly, slow enough to stay reasonably oiled and keep away any thoughts of hangovers or tiredness. Joe and Paul took it in turns to sleep while the other amused me. At one bar Joe was mocked for his lightweightedness. Joe complained on a hangover but couldn't understand why he had one because he'd only had "one or two" drinks....hahaha lying toad.

We were at the campsite in the late afternoon, Joe wanted to try and sleep off his hangover, so Paul and I decided to go and see if there was anything worth seeing in the festival site. There were a couple of Spanish bands playing but they weren't too interesting so we sat on the grass in the shade with a beer or two. I've never been to FIB before about half eight in the evening - I wasn't missing much. Back to the tent to freshen up and more Sangria.

The two acts of the weekend that I most wanted to see were the Friendly Fires and Lily Allen. Lily Allen had obviously heard of the wind and fire and bottled out and the organisation of the festival dodgy enough so that the Friendly Fires (who were on the Sunday) were moved forward by over an hour which meant that they were already on by the time that we had arranged to meet Rob and the others.

Before meeting the others we saw Elbow, Paul said he couldn't believe that it was almost midnight at the second night of the festival and he was seeing only his first band.

There was some discussion as to whether or not we wanted to see Peaches Geldof, Joe and I tried to tell people that it wasn't that peaches. Wes wanted to see Rob topless and this was duly arranged (not the most outrageous stag thing I know but its as far as we got) and then Peaches wanted everyone else to take theres off too.

Much to Paul's dismay the next thing was *MORE* Dance Music, Gui Boratto, I reckon we were the only English people watching him, everyone else had taken themselves off to see the perriennually overrated 2manyDjs. Gui Borrato is cool, even Joe liked him and Joe honestly really doesn't like Dance music.

I then lost everyone. Watched a little bit of Aeroplane. Got bored. And went into a sulk. And went to bed.

Day 8 - It's A Little Bit Windy.

Paul was due to arrive, yesterday however I received a text off him asking if he need a ticket for the festival??? I was pretty amazed when I randomly bumped into him on the way to the bog.

It was the strangest night I've ever had at a festival. We were sat around the campsite drinking beer, sangria and vodka and cokes. It was unnaturally calm and I asked Joe if he thought there was going to be a storm, he said he thought not. A little later the wind had picked up and was a little blustery, I thought nothing of it and continued to drink at the campsite until we got the call to meet Rob and Wes.

As we were walking towards the festival we notices a big black cloud arising in the distance. It was noted that Paul had disappeared for around an hour for a "nap and shower". Suspicious, we thought so.

All the time the wind was getting more and more whippy and vicious. I picked up a big cardboard box and used the corners as wind break until I realised it was big enough to fully enclose myself in it - Joe's version of this story is slightly different but that doesn't matter - as well as Joe and Paul. This strange situation led to us even more bizarrely being interviewed for Spanish TV with pretty spanish reported joining us in cardboard box.

Next we had to go to meet up with Rob's brother. Enthusiastic Joe seemed eager to be doing things and kept asking "who are we waiting for?" and "who is this Ian fellow?" so I designated him to be Sophie's chaperone while she went off to meet her mates a task he took with great relish and off they went. The wind still increasing in strength.

It wasn't too long after this that I managed to lose everyone whilst pushing through the crowd.

The wind by now was absolutely ridiculous, all of the stages were closed with the exception of the main stage where the Tom Tom Club were bravely (I'd say stupidly) soldiering on before something big fell off the front and a voice came over the tannoy telling us all to piss off.

I tried to wait in the spot where we had originally all met up but there was a dangerous number of people clambering around me so I decided the best plan was to head back to the tent. The problem with that plan was that we were all bottlenecked into going through a small walled roadway over a railway bridge. People at the back started pushing and I thought that it was a stampede waiting to happen so I turned around and walked away from the crowds and towards the town.

I ring Joe to see what he was doing and he informs me that he is sat in the back stage area supping cocktails or something and that Sophie wanted me to give Martin the barman from Tuesday night a ring to tell him to open his bar. I tell them that I will meet them there.

Walking towards the town was horrible, the dust from the car park was I think being directed by the wind solely into my nose and eyes. As I got into town the chances of a bar being open didn't look that good but it was cool being a bit more sheltered from the wind. I headed towards the meeting point anyway and luckily the bar was still open and rammed full of gorgeous spanish ladies. Martin apologised for the wind and the closure of the festival and I grabbed a beer.

About half hour later Jophie and friends turned up. Joe was staggering about slurring a lot and was the most drunk I have seen him in about three years and Sophie was ridiculously drunk which made her even more hyperactive than normal. I liked Sophie's mates they were chatty and funny and cool but one of them wouldn't stop rubbing her eyes because the dust and was making them redder and redder and redder. I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't threatend to chop her hands off she would have had blood spurting from her eyes.

Being in the bar made me forget about the wind and it wasn't until I foolishly stuck my head out the front door that I remembered that it might be a good idea to see if my belongings were still there.

I told Joe I was going back to see if my tent was still standing and he decided to come. Sophie decided that she needed more to drink and was going to stay, as I told her I was going I touched her shoulder and she must have jumped about ten feet in the air as though I'd grabbed her behind which I thought very odd.

The walk home with a pissed Joe going on about how great the wind was was actually quite amusing. As we were walking to the campsite there were scores of people with folded up tents leaving the campsite, I guess to sleep in cars or whatever. The bar area of the campsite was looking a little unsafe part of roof had sheared off and the campsite next to it was sealed off completely. My tent had blown down but was still pegged in I decided that I might try and sleep on top but there was too much dust blowing in my face so I then instead I climb inside the canvas without the poles. Joe in the meantime appeared to be having a whale of a time collecting big rocks and pegging things down. I actually had a decent sleep my only worry was that somebody might tread on me but this didn't happen.

The lads in the tent next to us had hankered down for the night with a crate of beer to ride out the storm and were taking it turns on beer watch. When I arrived back at the campsite at least three people offered help, dunkirk spirit and all that.

Looking back I think it was probably the most memorable night of the festival and was actually a whole lot of fun even if parts of it were a bit painful.

FIB 2009 - Thursday

Sophie had left to go off somewhere, she said to meet friends but I think she'd had enough of Joe and I and wanted to spend some time on her own. Several vodkas and cokes and one cold communal shower later we made a doomed effort to find Rob and Wes in the massive queue for tickets. Figuring that it was probably pointless we headed into the festival area and caught the last couple of Spanish surf rockers Los Coronas, I think they could have been quite big in the nineties.

Oasis Oasis Oasis...we didn't see them. We decided upon The Walkmen from New York who were generally rather good although a couple I times I thought they veered into Coldplay teritory. I think when they first came on there could not have been more than 20 people watching them but as more and more people realised how terrible Oasis were more joined us.

I don't remember the exact sequence of events but somehow I think we managed to meet up with the Rob the Stag and Wes the Best Man during Telephathe without too much difficulty. I thought these french ladies and their wierdo take on the eighties was pretty cool, Joe said he thought they looked like lesbians, I think they just look like pretty french girls. Anyway I like their music.

Gawd that drummer from Glasvegas is a big big lass, boom booom boom booom, she goes on her skins. Not much variation. Which I think describes Glasvegas. Not too impressed Rob demands that we take him to the dance tent.

On the way he stops off for a SUPERMOJITO - basically a schooner of white rum with a mint leaf and one ice cube floating around on the top.

Christian Smith is playing on the second stage his music goes up and up and up and up, then the filter comes in and cuts all the bass out before dropping in a huge huge bassline, this he repeats at regular intervals. This style must come from the A to Z of how to be a house DJ, ok but not exactly inspiring. I've since seen some footage filmed by him since then and it looks amazing to be that person in front of ten thousand plus idiots dancing.

Rob and Wes declared at this point that it was their bedtime and Joe disappeared too - I get a message saying that he was going home if he could find the exit.

Next thing I am dancing away to Kevin Saunderson when I see Sophie in front of me being harrassed by a Spanish guy who kept insisting that she took beer, cigarettes, pills off him that she didn't want. When I went over to her she flung her arms around me as if to say THANK FUCKING CHRIST. His mates appear out of nowhere and one of them bites a whole in the bottom of his litre beer and starts pouring into my mouth. I go from being a nicely oiled to being shitefaced.

The spanish people are cool, although only one of them can speak English (the wife of the pissed bloke tipping beer into my mouth) and my Spanish is rudimentary at best but they tell me that they were all locals who were still amused that so many English would bother to to turn up to their little town, especially when we had so many festivals in England.

Inner City come on and the average age ove people in front of the stage rises but at least ten years, all the kids go to bed. Sophie tells me that I don't need to stay because of her, I tell her that I wasn't then she disappears. Inner City were OK, big lasses, Rich Meeking would have been in his element. :)

The music finished about five thirty. Then I head off to bed.

Day Seven.

Deer lasagna for breakfast, very tasty.

An afternoon on the beach followed up with about four or five jugs of sangria whilst admiring another type of jugs attached to the barmaid of the pub across the road.

A perfect way to spend the day.

Now the festival was about to start proper.

Day Six - LAZY

We spent the day at the Waterpark, it was extremely busy and I could not be bothered to queue up to go on the slides. I read Sophie's Cosmopolitan magazine and to be perfectly honest was a little bit bored.

I can't remember what we did in the evening, Joe says we had an early night, I think he is probably right

Five Days In

Woke up feeling quite hungover, thankfully its a grey morning so I don't have to contend with supersweat and superheat carrying my stuff to the train. The train is very swish, seats that you can choose you direction and plenty of leg room. Annoyingly I can't sleep my hangover off on the train.

The ride to Benicassim was hassle free, there seems to be an awful lot of one horse towns along the way. The train pulls in and I walk to the campsite and meet Sophie. I half-heartedly erect my tent while Sophie goes off to buy me a beer. The beer goes down very very well. Nice and refreshing. Then Sophie decides to pour me a vodka and coke.

Once I am settled in and relaxed and slightly tipsy we walk into the town in order to look for a seafood restaurant that we had eaten in the previous time we were in the town. We found the restaurant only this year they were only selling steak and chips. We ordered and ate and then strolled to the beach.

At the beach there were so many pasty English people it felt like I was at Bognor.

Joe texted me to tell me that he would be arriving and was expecting me to carry all of his things and erect his tent. Ha fat chance. On his arrival he was lucky enough to find a small spot next to us. More vodka and coke.

By this time it was starting to get dark and Joe wished to buy himself an airbed so we tramped back into town. Luckily the shops were still open and airbeds purchased.

The we decided that we should probably go and get a drink.

The times I visited Benicassim before there was a square of cacophonous noise and bars overflowing with festival goers. The square is still there but the bars either closed or empty. I have subsequently learned that his was due to the police closing them all down after noise complaints, the puritans strike again! We ordered a sangria which was very nice and then another which tasted strange, I think due to the fact that coca cola had replaced red wine as the base ingredient.

We decided that we would go for one more drink and call it a night.

We wandered around for a while and then chanced upon a empty looking bar with a sign that promised a garden terrace, we figured that it would nice and chilled out to sit there. I marched through the door while Joe and Sophie dawdled around the entrance. Inside was a modern looking white bar with very few drinks. The barman beckoned us inside and asked us where we were from and what we wanted. Joe and I had a beer, Sophie a spirit. The barman told us his name was Martin and invited us to try a traditional Valencian spirit which I think tasted similar to ouzo. Then he invited us to try another spirt this time from Ibiza.

Martin had only recently taken control of the bar from his father and was learning the ropes. There was an annoying English kid in the bar who was obviously on his last drink of the night. Unfortunately Martin was unable to tell him to get the fuck away from the back of the bar. The kid was harmless but was being a bit of nuisance, he eventually succumbed to the 70% spirit he had consumed and left to puke his stomach contents up. He did briefly come back in with more alcohol in his head but we were able to persuade him that it was a bad idea and his girlfriend that it was time to drag him back to his tent.

We chatted to Martin some more and had a few more beers, were invited to carry on at another bar, I had me mostly sensible head on, Joe said he was tired, Sophie was tempted but decided against it and we left for the night.

The walk home was quite funny from what I remember, lots of drunken falling about stupidness.

Still My Holiday - Day Four

I was supposed to go to Benicassim and meet Sophie on the Monday but had booked another night in Valencia anyway, half heartedly wandered to the train station to discover that only early trains were still free and received a text off Joe telling me hang tough and put off camping till the latest possible minute. In other words I didn't bother.

Instead I went to the Cathedral to see the Holy Grail. And visited the the space age science museum, it has the best paddling pool that you are not allowed to paddle in ever. You can't possibly take a bad picture of it. I took a wrong turn and found myself trying to walk along a motorway before thinking stupid idea Richard why don't you turn around and get the bus. Which is what I did.

Later that day I met an 18 year old German/Australian girl travelling with her 17 year old Ecuadorian/German girl, both charming. Somebody told me later that he was jealous of my Latina girlfriend....hahah....that's quite funny, she young, highly attractive with little English, me old fart, monster with little Spanish and no German.

That night I got right royally pissed with some Australian blokes and some lasses from Oban.

My Holiday - Day 3

Fireworks and brass bands violently awoke me from my slumber, although not for too long before drifting back to sleep...Getting up just before noon I decided to see if I could catch the free walking tour of Valencia which was pretty good and killed a couple of hours. The tour took us around the city walls, through various different churches, to a sweet shop, to a bus stop, to the ajuntament and around the markets. After that I had a bit of stroll around the shops which I was suprised to find open.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty lazy. I drank wine and argued with the slovakian hostel handyman/freeloader who seemed to have a bit of a problem with christians.

My room had been taken over by a group of nice but far too sensible kids from Nottingham. They invited me to go for a walk around the city with them which I did and enjoyed their company but at about half nine they decided - actually it was the most sensible (but rather gorgeous) one of them that decided - that they needed an early night before their TEN O'CLOCK coach to Benicassim the following morning. Now I'm pretty sure that if it had been my first night on holiday I would have been saying that I needed and early night and would take it easy as I was stumbling home from some bar or club as the sun was coming up the next morning - but then I'm not that sensible.

Obviously half nine is too early for me so I went off for a wander around the town for a beer or three. In the main square there was some kind of ballroom dancing competition occurring, strangely to the music of Fatboy Slim. Somehow I found myself in the bar that was just about to be taken over by the hostel pub crawl. I got talking to the kid that was organising it and event though I accused him of being Irish (he was a Scotsman) he asked me if I fancied joining them for nothing. So free booze for me.

To be perfectly honest I can't say were we went or what I did that night but except for there being some very excitable lads from Sheffield on the crawl and some nice but dull Canadian girls too plus I remember staggering home as the sun was coming up, which I think means it was too late.

When I got back to my room I was fronted with the sight of the most sensible but gorgeous one of the group lying on her bunk legs akimbo, knickers attached to the bottom of her foot and no sheet to cover herself because it was sprawled on the floor. I was quite tempted to do the gentlemanly thing and cover her up but figured that in my highly inebriated state would have woken her and then would have had quite some explaining to do. So jumped into my bed and stored the image for future reference.....muuuuuhahahaha.

My Holiday - Day Two

I felt sick.

I somehow dragged myself to the beach only to realise that it was a very stupid idea. I was so dehydrated that I thought I was going to faint. I then struggled back to the hostel and struggled to go back to sleep. Horrible day.

I didn't feel too much brighter in the evening. I had a couple of beers in an "irish" bar were I was forced into some odd darts game in order to win a T-Shirt that was about nine sizes too small for me. Then wandered the streets for a bit thinking should I go for a pint or not before turning a corner to discover some Valencian folk singing troupe blocking the way, they seemed to be taking it in turns to sing and drink beer.

Again the hostel experience had been a bit of non too friendly one and company was a bit lacking. I had an earlyish night.

What I Did On Holiday - Day One.

I arrived at Valencia airport and caught the metro to the train station only to find that I hadn't bought the correct ticket and was unable to get through the barrier to get out of the station. There was no guard to show my ticket to so I walked along the station towards the other exit only to find I had the same problem. Luckily there was a slightly broken barrier that I was able to take a run at and destroy completely whilst making good my escape.

It was pretty hot walking through Valencia to my hostel and was sweaty prefusely by the time I arrived, I had to wait around in reception for what felt like an age before I could check in. Eventually I was given a key to my room and pretty much collapsed on my bed (having had a skinful the night before and an early start) there was a couple in my room who thought that I was about as talkative as a mute.

I can't remember how long I was asleep but at some point I took myself up to the roof terrace and dropped off to sleep there...

I was sat around the hostel for a few hours and not once did anybody say hello, it was mostly full with what appeared to be eighteen year old sixth form girls, some rather cliquey Australian ladies and no solo travellers whatsoever. At some point in the evening I wandered off to grab a beer in the main Placa Del Virgen and watch peoples before returning to the hostel and more indifference. If that had been my first hostel experience I think perhaps it would have been my last.

I thought about going to sleep and calling the day a write off only to be asked by the hostel handyman/freeloader if I was interested in the organised pub crawl. I figured that I hadn't spoken to anyone all day and decided bugger it why not?

The pub crawl joined about six different Valencian hostels which was pretty cool. I chatted to some Kiwi lads and a rather refined Australian guy. The night took us to four different bar club things. The first was pretty shite but we had the choice of a free Agua de Valenciana or beer or Sangria. The second place was OK music was a mixture of everything that was popular twelve months previous. Again I think we had another free drink, beer I think. After this the tour moved about 100 yards up the road to Radio City, this time the drink was some horrible spanish spirit. By this point I was best mates with the Kiwis, had started on the Cuba Libres and was dancing like a loon to reggaton music. The majority of the pub crawl had drifted off in their separate directions but at four o'clock the Irish girl organising the event bawled out that there was still one place to go and that it was time to have one more drink before moving on. The next place looked huge inside, I realised that it wasn't when I walked into a mirror. I really have little recollection of this final place other than we were given a blue slush puppy type alcoholic drink.

I think I got home around about half five.