Travelling is so much fun. so long as you either have a shower every day or twice a day or you don’t have a shower for such a long time that it doesn’t even appeal to you anymore.
Trains aren’t unsafe. You can sleep in them, eat in them, meet people in them, dodgy or not, smelly or flowery (remember the shower issue). But they’re just a means to an end. Getting off a train, especially one where you had no seat reservations and had to suck it up and sprawl as much of yourself as you could on the floor with the rest of the sleep-deprived crowd, you’re happy to see your limbs are in working condition. You can just walk and you’re fulfilled for the rest of the day.
You get off the train from Krakow to Gdynia, you’re greeted by Magda. You have some pea cream soup and some mushroom experimental dumplings and you’re ready for battle. For battling the people onto the bus to the Babie Doly, the festival site. Well not really because Polish people are so civilised. There was no pogo-ing the first day, and you could just elbow your way to the front if you wanted to. On the other hand, they’re well paranoid about their travka too 🙂
There’s an appetence for Placebo in Poland I never thought I’d find. Basically in the rest of Europe they just have their old crowds, the old fans with a disabled upchuck reflex so as to numbly or surprisingly enough, enthusiastically, take in the last LP, Meds, which oozes mediocrity and lack of passion for anything. It sounds like a drunken lingering shadow of what Placebo used to be. I expected some old sing-alongs, like Pure Morning, which never happened, instead you either got any given lacklustre track off Meds, or Every You and Every Me. I felt myself nodding off while I was standing there waiting for something to happen which eventually came in the shape of a cover – Running Up that Hill (Kate Bush cover). As I was wondering how many people knew the mesemerizing original, I made my way to the exit for some aqua. I met up with Mircea who had to rub Nightmares on Wax (who performed in the tent stage) in my face. Of course it was bloody amazing as Mircea told me exhausted from all the good sounds and vibe – and of course, I wasn’t there to witness. I have only myself to blame, and Placebo, for making me forget I actually was at a goddamn festival
After Pharell and Placebo, I felt disjointed and filled with woe. Pharell looked like he was looking for love from the crowd, but I didn’t feel it much, and by the “when-are-we-getting-out-of-here” way he was lagging around the stage he didn’t seem to feel Polish love as a force to be reckoned with, either.
The second day I was unabashed and prepared for some good fucking live acts. The only issue was organizing myself correspondingly and running to-and-fro between main stage and tent stage.
Got to the Open’er site in time for Skin‘s last pink-pantyhoed scream-arounds. Ah well. She did kick ass, and she is so phlegmatic as to pump you up even though you’ve never actually heard her solo stuff (i.e. me). I can’t say I was glad or sad when she was over though.
Well that’s it for the disappointing bits of the festival, tomorrow I’m a bombard you with what rocked (even electronically so, might I say mostly electronically)