It’s the final night of the Benicàssim festival and Madness are taking to the stage. I swear I couldn’t move my legs 20 minutes ago, but now I'm compelled to knees up elbows out dance, as Suggs welcomes us to the House of Fun!
Christ - I think this might actually kill me.
It seems a like a lifetime since we got of the train from Valencia and went hunting for our hotel. (Camping? I don’t bloody well think so!) But in four nights we’ve managed to squeeze in a months worth of partying.
Starting on the Thursday we're on site by midnight and are in plenty of time to shake our booty to the camptastic Scissor Sisters. This is followed by a delicious dj set from Erol Alkan – We might have gotten a bit carried away with the dancing here, but the Fiberfibs MAKE us drink beer by the bucket, before free pouring Vodka down our throats – those Spanish bastards!!! So we end our first night at the Festival by being swept up with the trash on Friday morning. Ooops, so much for pacing ourselves.
Friday evening kicks off with unexpectedly alright Babyshambles! Not only does Pete turn up, but the performance is coherant and actually a bit good. Shane McGowan even joins in for a bit of ‘Dirty Ole Town’. Then its the Walkmen who are brilliant as always, followed by a fabulous Futureheads. Later on the mainstage, the Pixies have to be stopped suddenly - “this monkeys gone to heav … !!?!” – the barriers are breaking and theres a life threatening crush at the front! Eeek! They're followed by uber dull Echo and Bunnymen. Then finally tis the turn of the Strokes, who totally redeem themselves as Casablancas rediscovers his mojo after midnight, and we consider ourselves 'rocked'.
On Saturday we were a bit tired (a day spent on the beach can really take it out of you) and we don’t drag our sorry arses up to the festival site till after ten oclock in the evening. But its not our bums we'll be needing tonight! Oh no. On go the dancin shoes andn we punish our knees and feet with many hours of happy dancin'. We get the tasty treats of Soulwax followed by the genius 2 Many DJ’s; Justice open with an extended mix of ‘We Are Your Friends’ and there's even time for a quick trip to the mainstage for an hour of Franz Ferdinand (doing their ‘yes, we OWN this festival’ thing!!). The booty is duly shimmied and shaken all over the festival (looks like we did need bums afterall).
Phew! - pass me the vodka, its like, 10 billion degrees and only 3am! Helpfully the Dance tent has wonderfully cool sprays of mist coming down from the ceiling. Those Spanish think of everything they do. (incidentally - the sound at this festival is the best I’ve ever heard – anywhere.)
Sunday is quite painful, in the physical sense, not the aural. We can’t drink (any more) and are weak with hunger (after surviving on a diet of fruit, falafels and limón vodka all weekend). Too hungover to eat, let alone booze, we’re mostly sober for Editors (Tom throws a rock strop and storms off cause his guitar didn’t work). And then we’re back with Madness, who are now taking us one step beyond exhaustion. We dance, dance and dance some more, away from the main stage and over to the little indie tent to shout along with We Are Scientists and finally, to see Eddie Argos give his festival highlight of a performance, as Art Brut play a joyous 1hr 15min set. (That’s three times longer than their album - oh yes.) Keith Scientist comes on to help Eddie cover ‘Great Escape’ and Argos closes by Top of the Popsing nearly every band on the bill. Perfect.
We really, really want to stay for the Rakes (at 3.40am), but simply cannot sit through Placebo sober. So we go back to the hotel and save ourselves for Monday and the …
Beach Party!
Pints of limón vodka, sea, sand, strange Germans, sunrise.
Muchos gracias Benicàssim.
*I might have mentioned the dancing quite alot in this, but then that's what we mostly spent our time doing!
