Third T in the Park Festival

My third and final visit to T in the Park was in the summer of 2001. It was the usual crew of Uncle George, John Dewhurst, Gill and I with the addition of a new name in the ranks as one of Gill’s younger sisters Justine made her virgin festival appearance.

We encountered a dramatic start to the weekend’s proceedings as I had a tyre blowout on the M6 near Lancaster necessitating the always challenging spare tyre change on the hard shoulder.

I have always been a big tennis fan, and this 2001 event was in the days when Tim Henman was burdening the British responsibility, a few years before Andy Murray broke the glass ceiling in terms of historic achievements. Thus, we were listening to his Wimbledon semi-final against Goran Ivanisevic in the car and he was in control of the match on the journey up before a cruel and sustained rain delay.

We were back in residence at the tranquil Glenfarg Hotel which was a welcome sight after a long drive. We caught Top of the Pops on TV presented by Gail Porter with what I believe was The Strokes debut performance, their track of choice was ‘New York City Cops’. I had seen a stellar sold-out show by them 16 days earlier at Manchester Hop and Grape.

After dinner, we foolishly decamped to the hotel back bar and started sampling the local single malt which had repercussions the following day! Due to the hotel being full on the first night the ladies were staying in an annex about 10 minutes’ walk away, so we escorted them over there, swaying all the way!

The weather for the weekend was a tad iffy, but obviously no patch on the monsoon apocalypse of the previous year. On the Saturday we headed into Perth for couple of liveners before heading to the site in a cab. The route from the cab drop to the entrance took us past a rather fragrant battery chicken farm.

In the King Tuts Tent I witnessed the gentle sounds of Kurt Wagner’s Lambchop. On the main stage we saw ‘Mr Wobbly Head’ David Gray and a decent headlining set from the Stereophonics. In the NME tent I caught My Vitriol.

The highlight of the day for me though were the Proclaimers though everyone disrespectfully disowned me, and I attended on my own though they patently missed a treat. The tent was packed to the rafters, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The audience camaraderie was wholly evident exemplified by the fact that when I needed a comfort break, I managed to sneak in and out mid set under the canvas assisted by some generous fellow punters. If I had to return to the main entrance, I would not have gained re-entry!  

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The Proclaimers with David Tennent. Image Credit BBC.

On arrival back at the hotel, I discovered the Henman match had progressed, but further rain delays meant it remained unfinished.

The following day we decided to travel directly from the hotel and prior to lunch saw on a back-room bar portable TV Henman finally lose his 3-day epic battle.  Another plucky British defeat, we have sporting pedigree in that particular pursuit! That said, I am posting this blog on the day of  England playing Italy in the Euro Football final, so hopefully we can lay that curse to bed this evening.  

A gentle lunch and a few sherbets proceeded the taxi ride. Most of my time that day was spent in the NME Stage Tent witnessing Cosmic Rough Riders, Goldfinger, Ash and the headliners JJ72. My favourite act of the day there was a sparkling set from Grandaddy who played a crunchier set than when I had seen them a year earlier.

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Grandaddy. Image Credit nme.com

I caught portions of Toploader and Texas on the main stage. The other highlight was a terrifically noisy set from the laconic Scottish miserabilists Arab Strap.

We then encountered some taxi trauma when initially it did not turn up as scheduled until I gave them a rollicking and the taxi eventually surfaced to take us home and provide an ending to my T in the Park trilogy!  

On an unrelated point I attended my first gig yesterday post pandemic at the Manchester International Festival after a unprecedented break of 487 days and hopefully we can all attend more in the coming months.  

Gigs Abroad – Part 1

I have been very fortunate to visit many foreign climes and witnessed many bands abroad but many of them have been of the on the hoof low quality holiday threshold. In that regard, my first gig abroad was at Majorca Santa Ponsa Square in 1997. In a rather quaint environment of a bandstand in the centre of a tourist square we saw a rather inferior Beatles tribute, but as with many of these gigs the compensation was the glorious sun and a beer in an ice-cold frosted tankard!

However, the second gig is in stark contrast to the first and at a completely different level. In September 1998, I married my ever supportive long-standing girlfriend Gill and we headed off for a few days to Dublin for our honeymoon.

It was a place we had always yearned to visit, and we thoroughly enjoyed our sojourn and we caught the city at a good time as we were in advance of it becoming a stag do destination and subsequent stratospheric prices. It is a very walkable destination and we embraced that approach dually soaking up the culture and visiting many hostelries and rather proudly we did not visit the same venue twice. We also found some fine restaurants dotted around the metropolis.

We headed out on the Dart (the local train) to visit interesting areas on the outskirts either side of the city, passing Ireland’s rugby mecca Lansdowne Road and walking on the pristine sands of Killiney Beach. I really found an affinity with this vibrant cosmopolitan city.

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The Dublin Dart. Image Credit TripSavvy

When I had booked the vacation, I thought it would be worthwhile identifying if there were any likely looking gigs that week and identified one at the Dublin Mean Fiddler. Fortuitously the venue was near the hotel and I recall in a pub next door to the venue on Wexford Road they were having a tribute night to Gene Clark, the founding member of the Byrds, who penned timeless tunes such as ‘Eight Miles High’ and ‘I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better’.

I had previously visited the sister venue Harlesden Mean Fiddler in 1987 watching the troubadour Townes Van Zandt. The Dublin branch opened in 1995, subsequently closing in 1999 to reboot itself as a new venue called the Village which is still going strong.

It was a small cosy venue with a downstairs bar and an upstairs venue. We arrived quite early allowing us to grab a seat at a table on a gantry overlooking the stage. At that point, it was the first gig I had observed purely in a seated position. The venue capacity is 550 and it was probably about half full that night. The support band was the Nottingham band Six by Seven who were touring on the back of their debut album ‘The Things We Make’, they created a fine racket with the standout track being ‘Something Wild’ and I would badge their performance in the ‘earnest’ category!

The headline act was the underrated Delgado’s from Motherwell who were uniquely named after Tour de France winner Pedro Delgado. They set up their own record label Chemical Underground which initially signed up a very young Mogwai and Arab Strap. They were fronted by the enigmatic Emma Pollard and they cut an engaging entertaining presence.

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The Delgado’s. Image Credit ohmyrockness.com

After the gig, we headed out to the downstairs late bar and gained entry despite my comedy fall at the bottom of the steps due in part to imbibing several bottles of Becks!