Reading 2014, Things I Learnt

For another year Reading Festival is over. Five days camping in a huge field interspersed with brilliant music, overpriced food and anti-Spurs chants. Without any hesitation it was the best weekend of my life, spending time with both your best friends and favourite artists is the key to happiness. This was my first true festival, and I sure did learn some very interesting things about Festival culture and the bands that played at Reading and Leeds 2014.

Gerard Way sucks
The My Chemical Romance frontman had his live solo debut on Friday midday. The NME stage was packed, everyone was ready for some classic MCR anthems. What we received were around 10 songs from Way's new album. Did anybody know the words? Did anybody enjoy it? Was this worth waking up for? The answer was No. Despite Gerard Way's huge advantage of being a world class performer, he didn't have the material to back it up. All he received was a resounding 'meh' from the audience.

Everyone hates Tottenham
Festivals are a breeding ground for chanting and Reading 2014 was no exception. From the Get Out Me Car Vine to the Inbetweeners Movie, no slice of pop-culture was safe from becoming an arena shoutout. Bizarrely in Reading there were thousands of Arsenal fans. Nobody could trace it to a group of lads or campsite but everywhere you went people seemed to be hating on Spurs (granted there was a bit of West Ham love in the air). It was fun to feel part of something far louder than you could possibly imagine, even if it was mainly mindless banter.

THE ORWELLS (TAKEN FROM NME.COM)

The Orwells are the masters of destruction
On Friday it was certainly a battle of the brawn between Drenge, Fat White Family and The Orwells. Drenge kicked it off with cross dressing, moshpits bigger than my house and singalong belters. Lias Saudi did not want to be bested, he tried to top the Loveless brothers with a mix of toplessness and being down right disgusting. Fat White Family are an excellent example of how important notoriety is today in music, people came over to the Festival Republic Stage just to see what unfolded. However, Chicago's The Orwells were truly the number one band on Friday for destruction. Mario Cuomo channeled the sleaze of Iggy Pop and the hyper sexualised Alex Turner to lead The Orwells into disaster. He hung from the lighting rig, had dry sex with the lighting rig then got himself into the crowd- in which we didn't let him leave. Major props to him for dedicating a song to the NME and then screaming "I fucking hate my parents!".

Peace and Cage The Elephant don't mind stealing the show

PEACE (TAKEN FROM NME.COM)

Saturday was the day my weekend fell into place. I was suitably bevved (Reading lingo) and the music was excellent. Gnarwolves were insane, Royal Blood's potential is obvious and Gesafflestien's brand of dystopian dance was executed with a disconsolate French grimace. Birmingham boys Peace brought their A game to the Main Stage with crowd favourites Lovesick and Higher Than The Sun and their new material (especially World Pleasure) put the crowd into ecstasy with smiles all round. It was then Kentucky's finest Cage The Elephant to rock the NME stage, and boy did they. Matt Shultz contorted body and screams made for the one of the best performances of the weekend. Him crowd surfing into my best friend's brother's arms was particularly bizarre but certainly brilliant.

Matt Healy brings all the girls to the yard
Let me paint you a picture. I've been standing at the barrier of the NME stage since 11am. My poor body has been crushed more times than the cries of "Alan" and "Steve". I have been on the telly more than the targets of Project Yew Tree. It is now 8:30pm and my brain has been turned to jelly by The Horrors psychedelic lasers and I haven't touched substances being passed around by Yellow camp.

THE 1975 (TAKEN FROM BBC)

I close my eyes for a second, I assumed I died and woke up in a very sweaty heaven as I am surrounded by 20 beautiful girls. Then I realise I'm not dead but that The 1975 are just about to play, and Matt Healy is a bit of a heartthrob for 16-18 year old girls. Although sceptical of the band I stuck my ground as at my good position because Disclosure are worth the wait. The band saunter onto stage with a bottle of vino and look throughly drunk. The next 40 minutes are fantastic, the band play their very catchy songs with great confidence and Matt Healy knows how to run a crowd (which is huge, even by Reading standards). I was a 1975 convert, my indie roots had been ripped out the ground.

AM live stands for Absolutely Mundane

ARCTIC MONKEYS (TAKEN FROM BBC)

Watching my favourite band of all time was the saddest moment of my festival (and I had my tent ripped to shreds then burnt). The release of AM sent shockwaves throughout the music industry and made Alex Turner a household name both sides of the Atlantic. Arctic Monkeys are so at ease with playing headline shows at festivals that they forgot they have to perform. Alex Turner is an exceptional musician and I quite enjoy his reincarnation as Sheffield's Elvis but his stage presence is poor and the lack of eye contact between the band is worrying. Most songs from the early albums went down a treat but AM songs became funeral marches of boredom and mundanity, Knee Socks was a particular low point. The Monkeys are going on a break after they wrap up their US tour, and I think it is well needed.