It’s a strange and very rare feeling. That of being totally content and immensely grateful for the opportunity to be somewhere. Despite my youth, the times do arise when complacency rears its head and you think to yourself, ‘Oh, another festival. Hmmmff’, but every second here is bliss.
Waking early to trek into town, we have mango juice and fresh croissants, a dip in the sea, and return to the site to initiate a game of water polo with THE BETA BAND and various other pale folk we find at the pool. The Heineken is lovely and cold, the sun is out and we are still in SPAIN.
THE BETA BAND provide our first musical entertainment of the day. Delectably eclectic and in their own world as ever.
Hours pass, drinks dive and tan darkens, and as the sun falls away SUPER FURRY ANIMALS bounce up a great show of the grand fluffy brilliance we love them for. BELLE AND SEBASTAIN too prove absolutely amazing. We don’t know why this. Like you, we’ve always thought them to be nothing more than a bunch of arrogant, Scottish cunts, but they appear to be absolutely huge out here, and with a performance like this, rightly so!
PAUL WELLER’s sound guy is in a bit of a strop. There’ve been a few technical problems throughout the evening, and Weller it would seem, is not going anywhere until it’s all sorted. Many of the crowd have no idea who he is, but for all his back catalogue, Weller does indeed put on a great show. It’s still very ‘Ocean Colour Scene’ in places, but allow it. We’re in Spain and Radiohead are on next.
One fifty am. Ten to two in the morning. Sábado 3 augusto. It does NOT get ANY better than this. Draped in darkness, doused in genius, ‘Karma Police’ is more tear-jerking than ever, ‘Paranoid Android’ more electrifying than anything. ‘Pyramid Song’ breaks half way through as Thom has temper tantrum spat at Jonny, but Radiohead at Benacassim is one of the musical highlights of my life. Stunning. They debut just two new songs, ‘The Drunken Punch Up At The Wedding’ which is a bit arse, sounding a bit like what happens when you leave the bassist and drummer in the rehearsal room for a bit and come back to find them indulging in some silly jazz nonsense. ‘There, There’, the other newy, closes the set, and is classic Radiohead. The guitary pop sensibilities of Bends-era with the dark, psychotic Kid A mould, it’s very much an instant love bite of Radiohead venom.
Trust PRIMAL SCREAM to lower the tone deep down into the depths of drugged out rock n roll excess. They are possibly more wasted than ever before, but it’s chaotically grand show. ‘Sick City????’ and ‘Miss Lucifer’ storm troop, as another Bobby dazzling performance ends the second night of the greatest show on Earth. It’s five in the morning, and we’re off to the bar.
