2 Many DJ’s and 2 much whisky
Clubbing Magazines festival reporter went to Denmark’s biggest festival.

I occasionally run into people who ask me: Are you not a bit too old for Roskilde? The answer: No, I doubt I’ll ever be. And I will keep going as long as I can still carry myself home.

Roskilde is my playground. My three days of crazy in the 365 of not so crazy. Alright - it used to be four five and six days of crazy, but hey – I’m still going, but I’m not that young anymore.

It’s not really a choice that I go. It’s a must. I have to go. Every year. Twice I’ve missed it since 1995, when I was living abroad. I was like a junkie missing his fix. I felt physically bad. And nearly put up a tent in hour garden in the west of Ireland – just to get a bit of the feeling.

Well, thank god I haven’t had to take that kind of extreme action this year. I have my ticket, so nothing can stop me.

One thing can slow me down though. The heat. Oh my god the heat. I know I should shut the up, because Roskilde is well known for rain and wind, så when you get the good weather, you should just be happy.

And I am. But you gotta be carefull with mixing whisky and too much sun. Explanation will follow.
I meet up with an old friend a couple of (slightly insane I find out later) norwegians. A decision is made to finish off a botttle of whisky. It’s 2 pm. A little voice in me says it’s not the best of ideas. A bigger voice starts quoting Oscar Wilde: “I can resist anything but temptation”. Guess which one wins.

After having a good session with my good friend Jack – surname Daniels - we’re sitting at some benches with provisional tables.
An old dude sits down. Well – old. Who am I to judge. He’s older than me anyway. He kind of looks like he’s never been anywhere else than Roskilde. At least mentally. He sits a the same table as us and spends five minutes picking up empty cigaret packs and looking first intrigued - then fascinated at them. Then something else catches his attention. A magic marker, that someone left behind. He looks at it. Puts an X on each of his hands. Then looks at the result in pure awe. Puts the marker back and walks away.
Welcome to Roskilde.

I’m not quite sure what it is. Or how it works. But it looks fun. The giant lake for swimming in the camping area was a popular place to cool off in the heat this year.
I have the Faith
After this I head up to see one of my favourite rock and roll bands of all time. Faith no More. And the group that has just rejoined after 12 years of separation doesn’t dissapoint. In fact I think I may have had a tiny orgasm at the end. It’s been very long since I heard a band play that well. And lead singer Mike Patton can just sing like no one else. He has been called one of the best singers in the busiess – for a reason. “Wow” is the only word that springs to mind.

The band leaves the stage with a recorded song roaring out of the speakers. It’s Queens “we are the champions”. No argument there.

As good as Faith No More is – as crappy is Oasis. I’m not a violent man, but the arrogance of Liam Gallagher just makes you want to climb onto stage and strangle him with a guitar cable. I opt to leave instead. Probably better for everybody.

I head down toward Cosmopol stage – 2 Many Dj’s are on tonight - the two belgians who have remixed anyone from Daft Punk to Robbie Williams. Sometimes they ask before they do the mixes. Sometimes they don’t. But it’s always pretty damn good.

The two mad men from the country of great beer have made a few albums and are also known as Flying Dewaele Brothers, Samanta Fu and Kawazaki.

Oasis is still playing and they get a greeting from 2 Many Dj’s. Somehow they get the whole tent to chant “Fuck Oasis” whilst jumping up and down. Priceless.

This quickly mixes over in Daft Punk in the speakers and on the big screen behind the two DJ’s.

Then this mayhem of mashup turns into a tribute to the King of Pop who we have lost just days before. Michael Jackson is on the big screen as they plow through a couple of his biggest tunes. Then suddenly there’s an indian (the native american kind – not the one with curry) on the screen. I’m not sure why. I’m not sure the belgians on stage are either. But hey – it’s fun, and it’s never boring. And it really doesn’t matter what these guys play – it works.
2 Many DJ’s salute the King of Pop.
Ah, the human car wash.
     
Falling asleep at top gig
Now it’s time for one of the highlights for me on this festival. Norwegian electrodudes Royksopp are playing at the Arena stage – the second biggest at the festival. Even though it holds more than 15.000 inside – and some thousands outside, it’s pretty full when I get there. But I’ts possible to walk around the tent and in from the other side – and get a bit more room. But it’s really crowded and I can feel that whisky and the countless cold beers now. Tired. And feeling old. It’s 2am and I’ve been here since noon. And for some reason I keep insisting on drinking like I did when I was here in my younger years. And as most I also have to face that the 30 year old me have trouble keeping up with myself 12 years ago. I go outside and have a bit of a sitdown. The sitdown turns into a 30 minute nap (maybe coma is more fitting). How I manage considering the mad bass from just thirty meters away is beyond me. When I wake up and walk into the ten, I see Swedish singer Robin – who’s singing a few of the songs on Royksopps album “Junior” on stage. Cool – they brought her along. I find new energy and dance with the rest of the thousands of people who like me love this Norwegian easy listening electro.

After this I meet one of the crazy Norwegians again. I’m not sure why, but she finds it extremely funny to whip me with a long piece of rope. I’m not too bothered at the time. But this is because I’m still drunk.

Somehow I get home to my bed in Copenhagen. Like last year I still can’t face waking up in a 40 Celcius degree warm tent.
It’s not much better in my bedroom though – maybe only 35 degrees. I climb out of bed and it’s status time. One big hangover – check. One missing phone – check. One big bleeding wound on my inner thigh from crazy norwegian whipping me – check. Roskilde 1 – mr. Carstensen 0.
 
Gypsies on acid
Back at the festival site with the spare phone and a slight limb I plan is to see the mad (in a good way) gypsies Gogol Bordello who are filling in for Lil Wayne who is sick. Or drunk. No one knows, and considering his track record drunks seems to be the sensible guess.

Gogol is brilliant. The band is based in New York but a lot of the members are immigrants from Eastern Europe led by the ukrainian singer Nikolai Gogol. Gogol means brothel by the way.
Their mad mix of traditional gypsymusic, dub and punk that is easiest described as gypsymusic on speed and acid is a major hit at every festival where the participants are well fired up on beer and God’s greenest herbs. So off course at Roskilde – they are well loved.
Deichkind. Note the inflatable play house on stage.
That’s what happens when you call in the gypsy band Gogol Bordello to fill in for a tired/drunk rapper.
     
Middleton and a pack of insane germans
I hop over to see if Tom Middleton is up for a party at the lounge stage. He ripped the tent apart when he played the old Metropol stage some years ago. Today it’s a lot more mellow though – it’s still quite early in the day and Tom has chosen a chilled out set. But hey – chilled out music, girls not wearing an awful lot of clothes and cocktails for four euroes is a combo I don’t mind.

After a bit of Middletonesque coolness I spent the rest of the daylight hours in front a streetwear shop owned by a friends friend. It’s simply too hot to walk around. Not that I can complain considering the insane quantaties of rain I’ve witnessed doing its’ best to drown the festival in previous years.

The highlight of the afternoon is a bananafight (thrown at each other – no funny stuff) between the staff and bypassers. Well – nothing really surprises in this zipcode.

When you’ve just witnessed Gogol Bordello – and when you’ve been to Roskilde since 1995 as I have it takes a lot to take you aback. But when I wander into the Odeon Stage at around 11 pm, this is exactly what happens. A pack of absolutely crazy pack of guys from Northern Germany are on stage. The first thing I see is a dingy – an inflatable boat – on stage. Right – so far so good. This I’ve seen before from fellow germans Rammstein – but the next is new. These electro-house-pop-rappers (I really can’t put them into one of the normal musical boxes) who sound like a mix of Daft Punk, german rap and weird pop music have so much crap on stage.
To a hard house song they do a very timed dance with umbrellas (inside a tent and it hasn’t rained outside for days) where the umbrellas reflect the UV-lights so you get completely tranced from watching it.
Then they jump into a vety tender love song, where they (all men) dance in couples – well there’s seven of them so the last one dances with a mannequin with no legs. What else.
At the end the stage looks like a playland from McDonalds or Disneyland. It’s completely packed in coloured plastick props. A man is dressed like a giant chicken and there’s a massive inflatable play house in the center of the stage. I’m just happy I’m not their roadie.

I walk from this madhouse to meet a friend to go and see Pet Shop Boys who are closing at the Orange Stage Saturday night.

The boys with all the 80’s and 90’s hits is a happy end to this night. I just love their stage show. The first half hour no one says anything. But all the backing singers and producer and computer wizz Cris Lowe wear a box on their head and don’t move much. But when they do its milimeter precise movements that would make even Daft Punk envious. Brilliant stuff.

Their hits through the years are so many that even for me who’s not that a big fan it’s a big concet. I pretty much know everything. And it’s one big party.

There’s one thing I have to check out before heading home to go on a holiday that seems more and more needed. At the Roskilde Climate Communuty in the camping area, the festival have allowed party people from the Copenhagen club life to play house, techno and what not on huge sound systems they brought out there. When I get there there’s not much going on. Besides a banner saying – We keep our promises – Roskilde don’t.
I get hold of Roskilde Spokesperson Esben Danielsen for an explanation – were they not allowed to play music out here?
“They were allowed to play, yes. But from 5am we asked them for a lower volume. That’s all” says Danielsen.

Strangely I find this argument fair. Maybe I wouldn’t have a couple of years ago. But hey – give me a break. I am thirty now. And I remember last year where one of the sound systems were 10 meters from my tent and I had to give up on any sleep.
Well, not my problem this year. I waddle to the station and away from Roskilde. See you next year.
This dude likes his Middleton
 So do these lovely people.
 
Words and pictures by Tom Carstensen
(C) Copyright Clubbing Magazine 2001-2009