This is tomorrow – Accosted by youth

Written by on May 27, 2018

This is Tomorrow (1)This is Tomorrow (2)

Doors opened at four, so being the responsible music junkies we are we wandered across to Spillers Wharf on time, bright eyed and bushy tailed, or rather a bit damp from the rain that had started up and was just getting into the swing of things. There was reason for the early start, we wanted to see Sam Fender, the opening act, and we have a long standing history of missing opening acts due to the temptation to ‘just have one’ on the way.

So we arrived at the entrance a little after 4, already waterlogged and regretting the lack of consideration I’d given the weather up to this point. Uncle rock had suddenly become very aware that his waterproof coat was neither waterproof nor capable of holding in any kind of body heat, his sunglasses topped off the look as the international super spy that he is.

The yellow jacketed Gestapo were in full force as the doors remained closed for another hour, with very little to do but drip and shiver as the heavens opened, took a breather and came back for a second round, even the elements confused as to why we were still standing around, and within spitting distance of a pub as well. By the time the jackbooted amateur bananas in pyjamas started ordering us to move down towards the front in order to give more people room to queue, seemingly unaware that the problem would be solved much quicker if they just opened the gates, I was already loudly wishing the most rampant and vicious malignant form of arse cancer upon all yellow jacketed figures of authority, Rock just laughed at me. Sober boy should not be allowed to queue with, or near to, people.

Luckily there was some amusement to be had, there were people who had spent even less time worrying about the weather than I had and were comically under prepared, however the woman wearing a white shirt in the pouring rain with no bra and nipple piercings should be given some kind of prize.

Eventually we were allowed in, after a search where they were most likely trying to find my good humour, and we deftly avoided a stampede of youthful exuberance, made all the more impressive by the weight of some of the marauding adolescence.

Fender put on a hell of a show and was easily the highlight of the day. He had come highly recommended from some people that we know and given that we trust their judgement the waiting in the rain was more palatable. We were just glad at this point that the festival was set up on a car park and not on grass, after recurring nightmares of Download festivals gone by. Fender is one to look out for in the future and the singles he has released on Spotify are well worth a listen. The Little Comets got the crowd going, warming up the atmosphere to a more human level and getting the accumulated youth to my right rather excited. It was either them or the smuggled booze that they were draining into their 14/15-year-old bodies as though they were getting caught with it and sent to bed early. There is something unnerving about seeing kids draining Capri sun squeezy bottles, straight out of their school lunch box, of rum and vodka, but we’ve all had days like that.

 

Rules for gigs (an educational break from reporting)

  1. If you are going to get one of your male friends to lift you up on his shoulders, make sure you aren’t wearing a denim mini skirt that’s going to ride all the way up to your tits while you do it.
  2. If you do do the above remember to wear underwear.
  3. If your female friend is only able to stand because the crowd is packed in tight and she isn’t capable of opening her eyes fully, this is not the right time to make a move dude, no matter how many of the other girls around you she is sloppily getting off with.
  4. When your friend vomits over the guy in front of her don’t stand there looking like a lettuce while you’re being yelled at, move her to the side, since she cant stand she may need medical attention.

(and now back to the article at hand).

 

Rock was not aware and was later highly amused at just how close he had come to being covered in second hand, regurgitated, spirits. The dude on his left caught almost all of it and in doing so performed an important public service. Evolution festival had been known in local circles as the underage drinking festival and I was glad to see that the change of name hadn’t changed this proud tradition.

As it was I was far too sober to be dealing with this level of enjoyment and we retired to the food truck area. The planning of this festival was amazing and it seemed as though the people in charge had worked out exactly the spot where all of the rainwater would accumulate and had placed all of their picnic area tables right in the middle of it. It was impressive really.

Rock bought and finished off his jumbo sized Bratwurst in record time and wiped away the excess sauce with the deft skills of an experienced pornstar and silently reminisced about the career that could have been.  Everything Everything followed up and the day took a turn for the worse musically. We put it down to impressive marketing skills and when the excuse we had given ourselves of us being too far away from the action to truly appreciate the sound was proved wrong after an exploratory slow wander towards the stage we decided to call it a day.

Catfish and the Bottlemen followed and delivered exactly what you would expect from them. We had seen them before in much smaller, contained and mental venues so the mystery wasn’t enough to keep us out of the pub. The organisers of the festival clearly hadn’t thought that anyone would want to leave before the headliners had played, so we had to go out the only way that was available, through the crowds of people trying to get into the festival area.

It is a sad truth of festivals of this type, s we found out one year at Leeds, that the majority of the people that are going will not turn up until the headliners are due or, in this case, well after. We swam through a tide of smashed and excited, annoying dry, humanity and nearly lost a shoe in the process. The experience worth it for the face a bloke made as he tried to hide his chilled can of lager down his pants.

Walking to the Weatherspoons on the Newcastle Quayside the sound from the stage was, if anything, clearer and much better quality. The crowd of people walking towards the festival was still going strong when the Bottlemen took the stage, but by then we had found refuge in a bar that makes sense and had started the long overdue drinking.

Blind Fury ducked out of going to this gig at the last moment due to a hectic tour schedule with Uncle Rock, but we now think this was a calculated move on his part to save himself from the weather and the lack of separation from the heaving mass of youth. Well played you beautiful bastard, once again your mischief has been successful.

 

http://samfender.com

http://www.littlecomets.com

http://www.everything-everything.co.uk

http://www.catfishandthebottlemen.com

http://thisistomorrow.co.uk

 

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