After the flood
Clubbing Magazines festival reporter went to Denmark’s biggest festival again.

I’ve been spending a lot of time on the Danish weather website DMI in the weeks up to Roskilde Festival this year. Last years swimming contest of a festival in mind, I’ve even gone as far as never since my first time here thirteen years ago and think the unthinkable: Do I really wanna go this year. Thankfully common sense takes over. Off course I’m going.
And the weather is with me. The weather men tells me that I’m in for a treat. Sunny all weekend. Nice.

I head off planning to be a comfortable old bastard and catch the bus home from camp east. Takes only half an hour to central Copenhagen. I’ve been put off the whole tent thing a good bit after last years diving lessons at the campsite.
 

Thursday
Thursday nights music program is to be honest not impressive in my opinion. I try to watch Radiohead, but I’m either too old or not old enough. I find myself feeling the exact oppositite of the majority of the crowd. Bored. I leave the whining tones of Thom Yorke and company and go for a wander. This is usually the way to find good – or at least weird music. Today is no exception. I hear some beats from the very closed off Astoria-tent. My favorite place. It’s only got two rather small entrances and inside is big podiums, a light show that won’t quit and off course – a huge mirror ball hanging down the middle. The closest you get to a club in a tent.
On stage is something I didn’t quite expect. A woman in a big red dress and a bunch of guys – three of them playing instruments I don’t even know what is called and one guy on a laptop and sequencers. I’m loving this already. And when she starts singing something in Icelandic or some ancient Danish Viking language while the laptop guy shoots out hard breakbeats while the guy on the thing that most of all looks like a really messed up version of a guitar on legs go crazy, I know I’m in the right place. Valravn the guy next to me tells me their called. For the next hour I’m listening to this mad mix of electronic beats and 500-1000 year old folk songs. A little bit like the now demised Danish act Sorten Muld – just with a lot more edge and hardness.
After Valravn I’m – like I do most years –surprised that the festival closes it’s stages round midnight on Thursday. Apparently it’s some sort of deal with the local council. Understandable really as I’ve once sat eight miles away from the festival able to hear the thumping bass.
So I do the old guy thing and head home for a nice shower and the lovely company of my girlfriend. Honestly - she’s a lot nicer to wake up next to than the friend who’s offered me to crash in his one and a half person tent. Considering none of us qualify as half a person in any way, going home is the sane choice.
 

Limbo Limbo Limbo. Never a boring moment at Roskilde   Roskilde can be hard.
Friday
I have two big plans for my Friday. One goes well. One does not. The first one is Fedde Le Grand. We get to the tent a good fifteen minutes before the Dutch DJ and producer is supposed to go on. We can’t even get in the tent. There are so many people. We try once more and decide we have this strange love for life and ability to walk that commands us to go somewhere else. So we leave. A lot of people didn’t and the concert gets out of hand. Ten minutes into the set the security personnel pull the plug. It’s simply too dangerous. The day after the papers have stories about people who where there. There were nearly panic and some even speak of the it being close to the unthinkable – the Pearl Jam concert in 2000 we all wanna forget but have to remember.
“How fragile we are”, it still reads on the memorial stone in front of orange stage. Luckily the security remembered that and stopped the concert.
Le Grand did actually manage to play most of his set, but not before The Streets drew big crowds to the Orange stage. I was one of them. And oh my, was I happy to be there. Fourth time The Streets concert – third time at Roskilde. It just gets better and better. And The Streets wizkid Mike Skinner seemed to agree. Admitting to the crowd that he’d never played in front of so many people before and saying; “I feel like I’m standing on top of a building” when he looked down upon us 40.000 thousand – maybe more. It’s hard to count people when you’re jumping up and down.
And Skinner took us through all his brilliant songs in his charming-boyish-lary-drunken-hooligan manner. And all these words are meant in only a good way. The boy is brilliant. Nothing less. I have never seen anyone being able to get ALL of the audience to sit down and jump up at his command and go crazy. This stunt he pulls off four times and just when I think he can’t make us do more crazy stuff, I stand corrected. He rips off his shirt and commands us: “All the boys do the same. And for the girls: it’s optional!”
A rough estimate is that half the guys rip their shirt off. At least. Myself included. Why? Because Skinner told us to.

After The Streets we hit the Astoria tent – I love the clubby feeling of this place, A mad guy in an Adidas track suit runs around and screams and raps at the audience. In Denmark, if you couldn’t hear the music but saw the guy, you’d assume we were listening to hip hop, ragga or something in that ballpark. But no, the DJ at the decks behind the shouting man is playing the hardest tecky tunes that make the whole tent go nuts. The name of the act? Ehm, I remember when it was: Half two. ish. Is that good enough?
Strong lager in pint glasses accompanied by Mike Skinner made me this way. Sorry.
 
The brilliant light show of The Astoria Stage  
Mike Skinner not wearing his top
     
Saturday
Saturday is the day. The Chemical Brothers are returning to Roskilde. I saw them the last time and I was not disappointed.
The Brothers have so many big songs, even the most rock and roll people at the Orange Stage seem to bow in the dust of what is true class. Shortly into the set they play “Hey Boy Hey Girl”. People go crazy. And underlying the main lyrics – but not so well hidden – is a voice saying: “Get Yourself High.” And at the same time, a big crazy clown constantly grins at the 40.000 people from the big screens on each side of the stage. Ehm, ok.
And so the concert goes on with too many highs to mention.
When they finally finish off their set after two hours – most of us would have stayed for another five – the surroundings just make it all come together. The temperature is nice and behind the Orange Stage you can see the first signs of daylight. The perfect night.
Chemical Brothers have again proven what some people have claimed to be untrue. Electronic music does work at the Orange Stage. It just has to be done well.
 
We’re not really tired after a gig like this, but there’s not that much going on. After wandering for a bit we end up in the camping area. I’d heard about these crazy people that hold long raves in the camping area. I just didn’t realize it was fifteen meters from the tent I’m supposed to sleep in. Yes, I’ve finally caved. I wanna stay the night and prove I’m not that old yet. Mostly to myself.
And it’s some equipment the lads have brought along. I’m impressed. I think the eight bass speakers they use would be able to work in one of the smaller stages inside the festival.
After three ours of dancing, chatting and drinking my engine is shutting down. These guys don’t seem to have any notion of stopping. Which is really understandable. Coz people are loving it. My problem is that its half past six and I need sleep. Some guy tells me they usually go on till nine. And my tent is literally less than twenty meters from the bass speakers. And it’s moving. I try to lie down, but it feels like I’m being liftet off the ground by the bass. After an hour I give up. I stagger the mile and a half to the taxi stand and fall into a taxi. Copenhagen please.
 
The crazy clown that Chemical Brothers made talk to us.
   Morning rave at Roskilde.
     
Sunday
Home sleeping...... see you next year...
Words and pictures by Tom Carstensen
(C) Copyright Clubbing Magazine 2001-2008