Blink 182 @ Sziget 2014

The co-editor of the blog made it clear that we must be impartial and inform all those interested that he thought Blink 182 were great. He did not further elaborate as to why they were great, so we can only conclude that some people will always be transported to their high school/college years by Blink, which is of course a great thing if you can still palate fart jokes- of which there were plenty. It did transpire later that the days of Blink 182 and Korn were the weakest visitor-wise for Sziget this year, so we should be prepared for ever more DJ with flames silliness on the main stage. In which case I say, to hell with it, let us have more of Blink, for the sake of diversity if not for anything else, and I will just try to focus on my beer, I mean Travis Barker, who is still one hell of a drummer, irrespective of what suspicious stuff he might be drumming along to. (Such as a Steve Aoki song, whose infernal VOLT concert will haunt us to our graves.)

Best Concerts of Sziget 2014 #5: Stromae

The one with the crowd hysteria that seemed to escape us: thanks to Bonobo, who could interest us,  and Macklemore and The Other Guy on the Main Stage, who couldn't, we were nicely ensconced in the A38 tent before the stream of rabid Stromae fans started arriving. There was apparently much hyperventilation, pushing and shoving and some anger from those who bought the tickets for Stromae mostly, but did not fit in. We frankly confess to not being complete connoisseurs of his oeuvre (we may allow ourselves all these French-isms right here, given that he does sing in French), but could conclude after the concert that he is one of those acts who are very worth seeing live- while some tracks sound a bit basic on the record, they become metallic and sinewy live. The young gentleman also goes through some fine wardrobe changes, and there's a nice visual concept to the stage- the organizers, smelling danger due to his rising popularity, offered him a slot on the main stage in the afternoon, but he would not take it, and he was right not to: the light show, while not being aggressive or overdone, is essential in creating the proper atmosphere for his tunes.

Sziget 2014 Diary: Day Five

The last day was to be kicked off on the VOLT stage with Hangmás, who would in all likelihood be a tad more popular in a country more attuned to indie than Hungary, but as things stand they were relegated to an awkward half past three slot, where they tried their best to please a crowd composed mostly of people wandering in from the nearest hot dog stand. The concert was no match to the intensity of their usual club gigs, but at least we did not suffer too much of a heartbreak when the main stage beckoned, as grandiose things were about to happen there.

There are few satisfactory synonyms for tantalizingly awesome, and Ruben Block is one of them. Generally, Triggerfinger are just better than your average band: they play better, they move better, they are more Belgian and they of course have one more Ruben Block than any other band, ever. Beyond the shameless fangirling, which we should have grown out of by now, but cannot (because Ruben Block), Triggerfinger sound great even if you don’t look at the stage- to see you know who magnificently wield his guitar. Maybe for a second here and there you did wish they were back in the A38 tent , for their intensity seems better framed by a dark enclosed space, but then there’s a giant burst of a sound and you’re all happy to be out in the open and desperately fantasize about what it would be like to wipe The Kooks, OutKast and Calvin Harris off the playlist to have a whole evening of Triggerfinger. You could easily shoot up the fireworks to them as well, though frankly you would not need to, because they put the pyrotechnics in their music.

(As a sidenote to the dark small stage thing- it’s gonna happen in November on A38, and I am already prepared with a flood of Triggerfinger rock my boat puns.)

Not many bands would sound adequate after Triggerfinger, but this is not really a problem for The Kooks, for they would not sound adequate after or before anyone, and they particularly do not sound adequate during their performance. There might have been a time when some of their songs hit a cute poppy factor, but the problem with said factor is that it has a very quick expiry date. They do have some rabid groupies though, who were marginally more interesting to watch than the band itself, To be honest, they sounded just fine from the height of the Sziget wheel, but once you descend to the ground, you’re looking for answers, as to why on earth are they still around and when will this stop.

It stopped just in time for OutKast to be promising on paper, and then fail pretty miserably as well. Good thing there was a serpentine party right before their gig, so we had at least a bit of fun in the meantime. I started having my doubts about this whole André 300/Big Boi extravaganza midway into the second song, which just didn't sound exciting at all. Then neither did the third or the fourth, but I was still giving them the benefit of doubt: since I am not a particularly big fan of their genre, maybe it’s me who’s missing something. But then their fans started grumbling too. And everybody was bored and tired- it’s the last day of the festival, of course, but what’s OutKast's excuse?  The absolute sign of a Sziget failure is when the band’s hit song sounds better from the mobile toilet than from the front of the main stage- well Hey Ya was quite alright from inside the loo, and really not there at all on the outside.

By this time the end was sadly in sight, and the main stage did not promise anything fruitful. Fireworks are quite alright and so are glowing led sticks -particulary when you’re three years old, but let’s say after seven festival days anybody can be tired enough to be cheered by a led stick. Calvin Harris on the other hand is something you’d probably wish on your worst enemies, if you were particularly cruel. It’s open for debate who’s worse- last year’s Guetta or this year’s Harris. They both have die hard fans of course, and danced to strictly within the confines of a club their music is probably palatable as well- yet it’s greatest asset is that while all those silly people are jumping around senselessly to Mr Harris those in the know can enjoy something really worthwhile in A38.

La Roux was back on Sziget after a more than lukewarm first concert a few years back and a rather long hiatus altogether. But ever since her new record came out this year, her reviews kept getting better and better- so finally, here it was:  the Sziget returner who makes up for a first stumble with a brilliant performance. There was really no need, no point and no sense in going to Calvin Harris, when La Roux served up something fundamentally better: music you can dance to, but which has a soul and a brain. With two brilliant albums she can now pull of a festival appearance that is jam packed with catchy tunes from the beginning to the end.

It was very tempting to end Sziget on a high pop rush, but you’re not an old school fan if you don’t attend Sziámi’s closing gig- back in the old days his band was main stage material, but with the advent of Harrises and Guettas he was sent into exile onto one of the smaller stages. Yet nostalgia never tastes sweeter than when the curtains are about to be pulled down, so unwinding at the VOLT stage felt like a must.

What is even better than a closing gig is attending another one after it- A38 had not yet fully emptied its small box of wonders , and Darkside were simply the perfect end note for the festival. Their moody and atmospheric music calls for one last beer sipped slowly, one last chance to get lost in the sound, one last look back at this week’s madness. And the usual mantra: next year, same place, same madness, new wonders.

Sziget 2014 Diary- Day Three

Thursday was so implausibly good in spite of the rain that Friday seemed to be doomed to the fate of a bit of a letdown- or a slower day in the least.  This was well reflected in the dwindling number of people arriving to the main stage for the 4 o’clock slot, held by German usual suspects Die Fantastischen Vier. They are of course an acquired taste- which you can probably acquire only if you are German yourself, or at a native level of German, which of course no non-German ever attained, so well, people from Stuttgart were happy- and so were we to see there are so many people from Stuttgart coming to the island. 

We left the main stage around the time when people started wondering why they are vier when there’s three of them on the stage -well, three of them were rapping, and then there were several others in the band, so no matter how you added and extracted, the four remains a mystery. The A38 stage was hosting the Palma Violets (who are actually a foursome, sublime victory for maths, finally), who for me are the epitome of the „bands NME hypes but I just can’t get the hang of” label. They sound so much like all other raucous indie acts that I simply cannot remember any of their songs- I have listened to the album several times, I have now seen them live as well, yet would not be able to recall one chord- not even if my life depended on it, so I can just hope it never will.

The main stage area became decidedly more animated when an infectiously cheerful Cee-Lo Green showed up in an Emperor Palpatine meets silk nightgown ensemble and was accompanied by a group of wonderfully skilled female musicians- in their undies. My feminist side should probably go on a rampage right now, but it won’t, because there was something utterly charming and quite harmless about the whole act- a perfect dose of sugar and funk for a Friday festival afternoon.

Having the Manic Street Preachers come on after Cee-Lo is probably akin to landing on Cardiff airport in the middle of an autumn drizzle after a holiday in the Bahamas- it’s somehow good to be back, but you’d rather it wasn’t happening. I always get this unsettling feeling when watching the Manics live- I love their records, and on paper their set should be brilliant, and it actually sounds alright, and they are of course extremely skilled musicians, but the spark just isn’t there. Maybe it’s something related the lack of connection between them and the crowd- very few people are actually aware of the band’s back catalogue, and most just idle away with a beer, waiting for whoever’s next. It is probably unfair to the Manics, and I always feel a bit sorry for not being more excited, but this concert didn’t send shivers down my spine either.

Counting this year’s disappointments, I would say Angel Haze is somewhere on top of the list- though maybe it’s not entirely her fault- it’s just that the bass was pumped so loud in A38 during her gig that it was hard, if possible at all, to distinguish the tracks and you could barely hear the rapping- which is a total pity in her case. She did look ill at ease for the entire show and finished quite early, leaving a gaping whole in the programme, which was made to bleed even more by Kelis arriving (un)fashionably late.

The only excuse I can accept is that she was fixing her hair, or had an army of minions fixing it for her- it most definitely looked amazing, like a sublime halo of otherworldly auburn flames. Her dress was also impeccable and she seemed moderately pleased to be there- moderate being the word for her entire performance: she slowed down most of her tracks, turning them into somewhat jazzy lullabies. Yes, you can make a jazzy lullaby from Milkshake, trust me. Which is a fine intention and would have worked wonders in a smoky little club, but fell a bit flat and awkward in a festival tent, with the public being at their wits’ end already.

When Kelis strutted of with a moderate smile, it was time for the Klaxons, who were back on Sziget after a gig that no one seems to remember- not even themselves, though they confirm remembering the parliament, which would suggest them having been here, though maybe in another dimension. In this one, however, we might not recall the new concert either- it did have some strong points, but overall it somehow falls short of memorable, you keep getting this eerie feeling that all their detractors were indeed right, and the Klaxons are more hype than music. Time will maybe tell- provided we remember the Klaxons at all.

While we were being moderate in A38, there was indeed a Korn concert on the main stage, of which people in the know speak as having been much better than their 2012 Sziget affair, though that might be a confusing snippet of information, since that outing is known as one of the basest in the festival’s history.  Given that we are not experts on Korn, nor do we wish to be, we can only conclude that based on this satisfactory result, they’ll be back to torment us into the darkness of A38 sooner that we’d like.