Sziget 2014 Diary- Day Zero

The only plausible reason as to why Brody Dalle isn't on the main stage at a much later time slot is that she has too many of the good things, namely X chromosomes. Any man with half her guitar skills and energy would be a celebrated rock god-well, you know, her husband IS, though truth be said, his overall skills are quite alright. But Brody of course still gets to be mostly his wife, alongside the remark: oh and she is quite good. That being an understatement, for she rocks, even at 4 PM, even in a hot tent, even with a scarce-ish crowd, even if she probably knows that she'd deserve so much better. Just to make things painfully poignant, she is followed on the A38 stage by a preposterous band with the preposterous name A Day to Remember, which seems a ball raised to the net for bagging a "day to forget' pun. I have duly already forgotten them. I faintly recall them blasting free t-shirts to the audience which is,of course, the epitome of musical credibility and we all know it.

Brody Dalle

A Day to For..I mean Remember

The main stage wasn't in a much different state: there is of course nothing inherently wrong with SKA-P: they are energetic, they play ska, festival goers love themselves some ska, there are some political statements, nothing to disturb the general merriment but just enough to make us feel good about ourselves- oh boy, I did try to save the planet today as well, didn't I? They also dress like random guys from the crowd who found a few odd items in the mess of their tent and put them on. So there's nothing wrong with that- it's just that there's no substance to it, but then again, it's a festival, we need them in all shapes and sizes. And once it's over, there's no need for sadness: SKA-P are one of those bands who'll be back on Sziget happily ever after.

Nothing beats flamingos when it comes to cheering up your tent

SKA-P

SKA-P

These people are all into ska

And so are these ones

The one thing festival goers love almost as much as ska are balloons. It is of very course hard letting go of your balloon: you have to fight scores of rabid Dutch to get hold of one, you grow emotionally attached to it over the course of a quarter of an hour or so, and then you have to set it free. A Sziget exercise in bonding and liberation. Because on Sziget we can pretend we're in the real word and not get hurt.

And then comes the most baffling part of the day: why on earth, why, and why again are Queens of the Stone Age not the headliners? Not that I have anything against deadmau5, his music is exciting enough to be the soundtrack of summer nights partied away into oblivion, but it simply has nothing to do with a headline slot on the main stage. That's for stone hard rockers from the desert. Finally a band who doesn't complain of Sziget heat- they're as hot and heavy as they come. Their sound weighs down on  the crowd and takes you places. As the dark gradually sets on the island, the track listing winds into their more sinewy stuff. This will be a day to remember after all. Cast in stone.

Queens of the Stone Age

Queens of the Stone Age

Queens of the Stone Age

PS: Deadmau5 was okay. He has cute ears.

deadmau5

deadmau5

The crowd is all into deadmau5

Sziget 2014 Diary- Day Minus One

Sziget should be globally considered as the mother of all festivals for the simple reason that it's so much longer than most. This year the hardcore Sziget dwellers could move in as early as Saturday, and most venues were already fully functional, even if some will start their programme in earnest only on Wednesday. So when you arrive on Monday thinking you are an early bird, turns out there's already a huge queue everywhere, top up points, ticket counters and most of all tobacco stores. This might of course horrify some, who long, year after year, for the lo-fi days of Sziget in the nineties. But then again, this is the simple evolution of all things: children grow up and some lucky festivals get gigantic, and in the midst of it the most important is staying true to yourself. Sziget might be shinier and brighter and more crowded, but it still has its true feeling greeting you at every corner. For those of us who've been out on the island for more than a decade, each time you veer onto the flagged road that takes you towards the main stage it feels a bit like coming home.

 Silly with excitement over The 1975

The festival of course did change- some years they even tried to cut it short, to five days, but the public rebelled. We NEED the week. The whole of it. Of course such a gigantic enterprise can be hard to steer for seven whole days, so the organizers came up with days minus 1 and 0. Which means the whole shebang is there, but it works on battery saving mode. This Monday only a couple of stages were on, with the most excitement crowded at the main stage. Or well, excitement might be an overstatement judging by the faces in the crowd while the 1975 were at it in a wild(muted?!) manner on the main stage. Along with a lead singer who feels like a messed up Johnny Borrell, which is unsettling given that Johnny Borrell is messed up as it is.

There in the back. Your laundry spot.

Oh Lord, Johnny is back. Well he isn't, but this is almost as cringeworthy.

But you do have to appreciate good hipster hair on a man.

On their record, The 1975 sound sort of like the Kings of Leon queasy after an organic whipped cream fruit pie. Having a song called Sex doesn't help at all in dispelling the aforementioned feeling, especially because it is most definitely not on fire. Of course you can write spectacular ice cold songs about sex, but for that you have to be Interpol, and The 1975 aren't. In some, utterly scary instances, they have an almost 30 Seconds to Mars feel about them, culminating in a total lack of chorus. It may be for the weak minded, but a powerful chorus goes a long way, particularly on a festival stage. I dare presume that Chocolate (remember the pie, yes, maybe it is an organic chocolate pie from fair trade beans after all) is their breakthrough hit or something, because it minimally disturbed my laundry routine. And in case anyone was laundering on Sziget too, they could have easily done it seated in the back rows of the crowd, right next to the guy dressed as a chicken immersed in a resting festival sleep. NME hazarded the guess that the 1975 are future headliners. Definitely so. I can see them headlining a pensioner's ball anytime. Or a shopping mall opening. But a festival surely deserves better.

Blink 182

More Blink 182

Which means anything but Tankcsapda. Yes, they are a Sziget classic, yes they do somehow contribute to the feeling of home, they're like your annoying and daft cousin who's there ruining every family reunion but no one has the heart not to invite him. So maybe I can take 90 minutes of pompous doom if it is followed by something other than, well, genitals. And flatulence.

But alas this time it wasn't. Blink 182 is one of those bands that I will never understand. Sure, All The Small Things is catchy as hell, but Britney can do that, and the video was funny indeed, but Weird Al can do that. The rest is noise, and songs hardly distinguishable one from the other. You guessed right, even Tankcsapda can do that. The boys are nice, they know they are in Budapest, and Budapest is in Hungary, and they pay lovely compliments to the castle and the Chain Bridge, and there's a young lady crying her heart and mascara out to I Miss You. Oh dear, so they've made some people really happy or really sad, which is fine. For the sake of communal happiness I will therefore graciously glide over the next flock of vagina jokes and monotonous droning noise. 

Sziget supermoon!

Age of the selfie...

But this was day minus one, and in a way it's better not to be exposed to too many challenging acts- you just soak up the vibe and wait for better things to come. Like some giant party to kick off the real deal festival, with some guy called Deadmaus. And before him- well let's just say that ever since the Beatstakes would invariably drive the main stage crowd into a frenzy with their cover of No One Knows all I wanted was to hear the real thing.

City of Liquid Gold

Whoever came up with the catchphrase Paris is always a good idea was obviously not into beer, alchemy and the absurd. Which, to be frank, are three pivotal elements of existence, especially when they come together. And they most inevitably do in Prague. So yes, Paris is usually a good idea, but every now and then, Prague is just better.

Book Diary #5: Andrea Pirlo- Penso quindi gioco

Al di là del dessert per poppanti, vigeva una monotonia assoluta anche nella scelta degli altri suoi piatti: pasta in bianco con un pizzico di sugo rosso e bresaola a pranzo, pasta in bianco con un pizzico di sugo rosso e bresaola a cena. Un menu lungo una vita. A tavola si comportava come quando si trovava davanti al portiere avversario: faceva sempre la stessa cosa, senza fantasia ma con il massimo dell'efficacia.

Book Diary #4: Karl Ove Knausgaard- My Struggle:1 A Death in the Family

Even though the case was heavy I carried it by the handle as I walked into the departure hall.I detested the tiny wheels, first of all because they were feminine, thus not worhty of a man, a man should carry, not roll, secondly because they suggested easy options, short cuts, savings, rationality which I despised wherever I could, even where it was of the most trivial significance. Why should you live in a world without feeling its weight?