Groovy

My wife and I, and young Master George went to one of those ‘pop’ festivals, for young people, last Saturday. The weirdest thing happened (actually the whole experience was both odd, enjoyable and more than just a little bit of an eye opener)... I was asked to show some photo ID!? I was slightly taken aback at first and could only think that they must have had a rule of not letting people over 45 years of age in (I was clearly a borderline case). If they did have such a policy it proved very successful because there were absolutely no ‘upper middle-aged’ people on the entire site... apart from maybe a couple of members of ‘House of Pain’.

For reasons that never really became clear the festival was called ‘Groovin’ the Moo’. It was actually an all-ages event – so we didn’t have to cobble together a fake ID card in order to get George in (although he appeared to have one of his own already... which is just a little bit worrying). The ID was, in fact, needed to get a wrist band that allowed access to the special bar area – which is just a fancy pants term for a piece of grass, behind a fence, with a beer tent... not special at all really. The only conceivable reason I can see for the inclusion of these areas at festivals is to create dangerous bottlenecks that wouldn’t otherwise be there - and it that respect they work a treat.

It’s certainly interesting being at a festival with your 13-year-old son. We soon discovered that we both had something that the other one wanted. George wanted to be six feet two in order to see more of the performances, and I just wanted some of the attractive women (actually just one would have done) that stopped to chat to George to talk to me instead. Alas we were both left frustrated, however George will grow taller whereas I...

Obviously there were some signs of immaturity; for instance, when we passed the stand where they were handing out condoms there was embarrassed sniggering and blushes. But then George told me to pull myself together... yes I know you could see that one coming a mile off (thinking about it, that might not be the best phrase to use in this context). They were also using a prop (which seemed slightly oversized to me) to demonstrate how to put on the product they were distributing. We didn’t see it but they must also have been demonstrating the proper use of them because all of the bands had masses of ‘condom balloons’ floating passed them during their performance.

And another thing I noticed was that, like the last festival I went to, there were an awful lot of people on crutches there. At first this prompted in me a feeling of sympathy towards these poor unfortunates whose enjoyment of the festivities was being marred by their inability to manoeuvre freely around the site. And then, the ‘cynic synapse’ inside my brain kicked in and I suddenly thought ‘if you wanted to get a sizeable quantity of drugs into an event, wouldn’t the best thing to use be an innocent looking hollow tube of some sort?’ Look, I’m not saying that they were all dealing amphetamines but I just think that it’s unlikely that that morning all the invalids in the area got up and thought ‘you know what? I reckon I’ll head down and check out the Go! Team at ‘the Moo’ this arvo’. Next time you are at a festival make sure you look out for all the people on crutches and then report back to me.

So, (6 paragraphs in) was the music any good? Well some of it was, some of it was a tad disappointing (the Drums, and the ‘drug dealers’ favourites the Go! Team) some of it I just didn’t get – but ‘the kids’ loved it. The highlight of the day (according to the review in this week’s Music Paper) was a couple of DJ’s who were doing unspeakable things, involving rapping and sampling, to a Beatles track (I think it was ‘Come Together’ but it was so mashed up it was nigh on impossible to properly identify it). Call me a bluff old traditionalist if you like but I still prefer my music to be performed by ‘4 skinny indie kids’ - on guitars.

It was at this point, towards the end of the evening, that I was reminded of a lyric penned by the great Jarvis Cocker, namely: ‘Is this the way they say the futures meant to feel or just 20,000 people standing in a field?’ I came to the conclusion that it’s probably the case that once your kids start going to festivals then you should stop attending.

The Social Service candidates amongst you will have been thinking,’ hang on a minute, if the three of you were stood in the middle of a football oval down in Bunbury where was young Harriet? Well – you nanny state do-gooder you – she was staying with one of her friends from dancing. Although to be honest we could just have left her in bed and she would have slept all day. On Friday afternoon she came back from School Camp and looked like she hadn’t slept at all in the three days she had been away.

By all accounts she had a great time, although wasn’t altogether keen on the part where they dissected a fish. You see, it’s a long time ago, but when I went on my School Camp to Malham Dale I don’t remember once having to perform surgery on a Sturgeon. I was however forced to eat Kendall mint cake, which in my opinion is far more horrible and stomach churning than chopping up a Chubb. Actually I don’t see how she can have had a better time than I had in Malham. as I recall we had thick fog and cowpats, she just seems to have had zip wires, sea life centres and sherbet pips.

Her flute playing is going from strength-to-strength. The school band is now practicing ‘Supercalifragalrock’ (no, that’s not right), SuperCallygoballisticCelticareatrocius, (no, that’s not right either), SouporCauli.... oh, you know, that song from Mary Poppins.

Do you remember how some time ago (about three paragraphs), I said that when your kids start going to festivals then its time, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera (I sound like Yul Brynner)... well. Me and George are planning on going to another festival in July – Jarvis Cocker’s Pulp are coming all the way from Sheffield for ‘On the Bright Side’ so it seems rude not to go after they’ve made all that effort.

To mark this occasion I’ll leave you with 5 essential tunes from Steel City artists.
1: 59 Lyndhurst Grove – Pulp, 2: I Remember Moonlight – The Crookes, 3: The Look of Love – ABC, 4: Mardy Bum – Arctic Monkeys; 5: She Said – Longpigs.
Wot no Def Leppard