V2002 Staffordshire - Sunday Review
Ian Brown, no matter what anyone says is King. Believe it. He is the most important person here this weekend, still the living embodiment of rock n' roll, the peerless forerunner in a generation of nobodies. His charity endeavour for SIGHT SAVERS, shot exclusively by this writer, is thus all the more applaudable, and complete with cropped hair from a recent visit to Tokyo, the original garage flower pulls out a master stroke of a performance as darkness descends on Weston Park. It's beautiful.
Manic Street Preachers may be slimmer, but The Chemical Brothers are more of a draw, and the party band of the summer break it all apart, as the projection screens break all over the place. There's none of the 'girl on shoulders, munching pills, and passing them around' lark that we witnessed in BENACASSIM, but the Woolworths music fans take it kindly, and it sets of the weekend in great style.
So why is it that V2002 is so great if much of the music was shite? The people, the vibe, the place, simple as. The people: northern: more laid back, friendlier, funnier. We are from London, and will never go to Chelmsford again. The staff too; security are polite, the PR people are beautiful and considerate (much like us) and the site is lush and full of natural beauty. The music is incidental at some points, but if it feels good, it is good, right? Damn straight. Best British festival this year, by a mile.