Thursday, 19 May 2011

Heeloooo! I feel great! Aaaabsolutely wonderful!

Hello. The title of this post is not from the heart, I'm afraid, but is in fact my favourite quote from last week's Eurovision Song Contest (Or Euro SoCo if you're a total dick). The Eurovision Song Contest is one of the musical highlights of my year, not so  much because of the quality or craftsmanship of the music itself - as everyone who's got enough brain cells to make speech come out of their mouths has already commented, it's all total rubbish - but the fact that it's so very unashamedly rubbish. It's like being transported back to a 70s game show hosted by a plastic-faced future paedophile/circus act. Resistance on the basis that the music is rubbish gives you about as much integrity (in my hostile opinion) as somebody in a Wetherspoons claiming that a particular ale isn't up to scratch. Of course it isn't, it was £1.20 a pint. Be quiet and get a massive horrible pitcher of liquid nitrogen and the insides of striplights and drink it through curly straws like the rest of us.

Another great thing about the Eurovision Song Contest - and oh gosh, there are so many - is that is signals the beginning of Summer, which in turn signals the start of baggy t-shirts and massive sunglasses weather. Now, I know this isn't a fashion blog, but I just have to show these sunglasses to you all because I'm wasting away without them, and I'm fairly sure that once I get paid and I can own them, my life will be complete.

Summer also means barbecues (the gorging of frankly award-winning amounts of meat and grilled halloumi), dancing around in circles in bare feet in gardens and parks, running about like a pillock on oh-it's-much-colder-than-I-thought-it-would-be beaches, camping (which of course also means cans of Strongbow and hilarious pun-games involving imaginary people named "Scott Chegg") and the ever-present Music Festival.

This is a fantastic representation of why I don't usually go to festivals.

In previous posts I have made it clear that traditional music festivals are not my favourite places to be. In fact, music festivals are usually where my enthusiasm for life goes to die. This year however, I've made a pact with myself to stop being a joyless cynic and to start joining in with fun things, even if it does feel like people might resume their endless tomato-chucking at any moment. At my mum's 50th the other week she forced me to do karaoke  and I did it (in a sense). A year ago this would have never happened without a fist-fight and a night in the cells. It's for my own good.

The festivals I am attending this year are:

Rough Beats
Kendal Calling
Love Box

And perhaps some more, including Cocoon in the Park, funds permitting.

So I'd like to know what festivals you're going to this year, and which are your favourites. Tell me why you like them, and I promise that unlike last year I won't call you a sheep or slap you in the face and ask you what went wrong in your childhood that you might want to spend so much time in a field with such insufferable poshos in order to listen to the musical equivalent of soggy cardboard. I won't.

No comments:

1. 4.
There was an error in this gadget
Related Posts with Thumbnails