A mainstay on the European festival calendar, Roskilde Festival has been running since 1971 and is to Scandinavia what Glastonbury is to the UK, namely a massive multi-genre, multi-day, multi-stage extravaganza. It is not-for-profit and each year the team at The Roskilde Festival Charity Society, the organisation behind the Festival, selects a charity and ensures that the profits from the festival are donated. A staggering amount of money (at last count over €13 million) has been donated to date.
In addition to these commendable humanitarian and charitable goals, the Festival sets the global spotlight squarely on local artists. When you think about the plethora of incredible Scandinavian musical talent we currently enjoy, many bands got their big break at the festival or its warm-up. The warm-up runs for four days prior to the opening of the official program. It is a must-see for any self-respecting music fan hoping to catch some up and coming acts. English-only speakers shouldn’t fret. Not only do particular genres translate easily across any language barrier, many Scandinavian acts perform in English (or Danglish!).
When the festival proper takes full flight, you can expect a running sheet of the biggest names in the business and a well-rounded support roster. At some point in time, seemingly everyone has performed at Roskilde from Bob Marley, Lou Reed, The Kinks through to Madness, Iggy Pop, The Cure, Iron Maiden, The Sex Pistols, Metallica, Rage Against The Machine and countless other A-list names. The 2007 line-up boasted veteran rockers The Who alongside Muse, The Killers, Bjork, Queens of the Stone Age, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Beastie Boys and local heroes Nephew, Trentemøller, Oh No Ono and Speaker Bite Me.
The festival crowd is about four times larger than the population of Roskilde itself so camping is the way forward for 99% of people, with hotel rooms and hostel beds being snapped up even before dates are announced. It’s a manageable commute from Copenhagen and Thursday night saw a mass exodus from the site back to Copenhagen after the wettest day in festival history. The trains were packed with drenched punters carrying tents that hadn’t even been unpacked. The ground was sodden and pitching a tent would have proven challenging, if not impossible. To make the night particularly difficult, the buses scheduled to shuttle between the festival site and Roskilde station weren’t running. Hauling our gear for half an hour to the station made me temporarily forget that LCD Soundsystem were in the best form I’d ever seen (with the material from Sound of Silver working brilliantly with their back catalogue); The Killers razzle dazzled in gold outfits in a way only a band from Vegas could and Bjork commanded our undivided attention with jaw-dropping outfits, exquisite staging and a particularly interesting looking device, that I was later told was a Lemur http://www.jazzmutant.com/lemur_overview.php
My singular focus was getting warm and dry, but I was soon distracted by the camaraderie among fellow fugitives, sharing tales of muddy woe all the while fantasising about sleeping in a real bed if only for tonight.
Day 2 deliberately commenced at a slow pace, knowing that we had to last til Brian Jonestown Massacre took the stage at 2am. My Chemical Romance provided some light entertainment mid-afternoon with overwrought emotion that the younger fans devoured appreciatively. It might be worth pointing out at this stage that legal drinking age in Denmark is 16, and although bottles are restricted within the festival site itself, tetra-packs aren’t. The steady (or should that be, unsteady?) stream of teens clutching goon boxes in wide eyed wonder at the biggest musical festival they’d ever experienced, was a constant source of amusement.
Beastie Boys delivered a quality performance that didn’t vary greatly from their BDO tour of 2005 on the back of To the 5 Burroughs. If you liked it then, enough time had passed to fully appreciate their talents again. They are a sentimental favourite of mine so I had plenty to be happy about. Klaxons and CSS kept the Odeon stage packed all night. Lovefoxxx’s charisma oozed, especially while delivering L7’s Pretend we’re Dead in her spangliest glitziest jumpsuit. QOTSA belted out one of the fiercest, toughest sets of the festival. As a fan of ‘Songs for the Deaf’ I missed hearing the old favourites. The set was designed to put Era Vulgaris on the map and thousands upon thousands of fans were thrilled about that.
Reflecting on the day added yet another layer to my appreciation of Denmark. As a fairly small nation, it punches so far above its weight in terms of its musical and cultural contributions to the world. Despite a significant influx of international visitors, it was local heroes, electronic music producer Trentemoller, and Nephew – one of Denmark’s top-selling bands – who drew the biggest crowds of the day. Never did I expect to see 15,000 Trentemoller fans in one place, engrossed by his live performance (and titillated by Bettie Page visuals). German electro darlings Booka Shade held court in the divine Astoria tent, a temporary version of the renowned London venue, a massive marquee replete with balconies and décor you’d never expect to find in the middle of a muddy field.
A no show from Cold War Kids was an unexpected blow, but the pop-folky goodness of wildly talented multi-instrumentalists Annuals made us soon forget. The day rounded out with a torrent of abuse at the crowd from none other than Anton Newcombe, front man of Brian Jonestown Massacre. Barely on-stage before declaring ‘OK, so we’re not the best band in the world, but that’s just as well for you isn’t it? Would you want the best band in the world fucking your sister?’ then ribbing some boys up the front for being gay, deducted from the simple observation that instead of cosying up to some Danish babes in a tent, they’d opted to watch a bunch of boys perform on stage ergo must be gay. My favourite insult? ‘If you’re Vikings and you’re so big and tough, why did you get your girlfriend to throw a beer at me?’ Oh… and they played a couple of songs as well.
After a night in a campervan (5 star festival luxury all the way) Buffalo Tom proved to be ‘high school flashback’ material of a joyous kind. It was 1994 when I last saw these guys with Superchunk at The Metro in Sydney and despite new material in between, it was the old gems that caught my fancy. After a marathon effort the day prior, the theme of today was degustation: dipping in and out of all stages for a tease of everything we could find. An overly minimal Luomo failed to inspire in the Astoria, but Denmark’s own Oh No Ono (commended in the festival guide for their hairdos and eyeliner and explained as a cross between Prince and The Muppet Show) were brilliant in the Odeon, followed by Erlend Oye fronting The Whitest Boy Alive, redefined geek chic. On main stage, The Flaming Lips took psychedelia to a new level with their inspired on-stage antics, outrageous costumes, support crew of dancers, culminating with their now infamous human-sized balloon tricks. Veteran rockers The Who bridged the generation gap. Imagine all those 16 year olds having a lot more to talk to their parents about? At risk of cliché overload, they still rock. Pete Townshend’s windmill has a life of its own. Despite giving it his all, Roger Daltrey apologised for a weaker voice, understandable given the amount of dust being kicked up from the now drying muddy surface below. The urgent need to be horizontal was overwhelming, so the Red Hot Chili Peppers and (most regrettably) Grizzly Bear were passed over in favour of sleep. Where had my endurance gone?
Hauling ass in for a final effort on the Sunday, we pared back any unnecessary movement and planted ourselves in front of the main stage for almost the whole day. Arctic Monkeys reprised their Glastonbury set with gusto but alas no Shirley Bassey covers! Their 3 month-old sophomore album Favourite Worst Nightmare yielded some great tracks to complement their massive hits I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor and When the Sun Goes Down and the energy of their performance was contagious.
In broad daylight (keeping in mind that we’re a long way from the equator and the longest day of the year was only a fortnight ago) Muse front man, Matthew Bellamy, drew the crowd’s undivided attention like a commander preparing his troops for an almighty battle; his mirrored guitar reflecting each and every unwavering gaze. Including material from every album, the set was so tight, so polished I was incapable of moving; struck down by awe at their overwhelming talent. Are they the biggest band in the world? If they weren’t already, they certainly earned that mantle at Roskilde.
Tracksuited party boys, Datarock, were all the while holding court in the Arena nearby wrapping up with their now trademark finale of ‘(I’ve Had) The time of my Life’… yes, that’s right, the theme from ‘Dirty Dancing’ and it works stupendously well. Originally included as a joke because their own material didn’t quite fill the length of a set, the song has now taken pride of place in a mock emotionally charged overture worthy of a shameless sing-a-long.
Many years had passed since I last saw Basement Jaxx, and the fond memories of them being joined on stage by Afrika Bambaata quickly disappeared as they wheeled out diva after diva in a disappointing performance. Rather than let the joy of our Roskilde experience be frittered away by a disappointing closer, we opted to beat the crowds to a Copenhagen-bound train. The seas parted, light shone from above, in a miracle turn we realised everyone in the return train queue was waiting to buy a ticket. In a moment of clarity several days prior, we had bought a card entitling us to 10 train trips. We casually waltzed onto the first train that arrived, nestling into a seat, dozing comfortably until we pulled in to Copenhagen station, ready for the next adventure.
