Annie hits Roskilde
Annie spent the first weekend in July DJing and hanging out at Roskilde, Europe's biggest festival
Roskilde – The Great Dane of festivals
Roskilde Festival has been going since the Seventies and after Glastonbury it’s the biggest music festival in Europe. With no Glasto this year, its THE biggest, and 100,000 music fans converged from all over Europe to see the best line up anywhere: Kanye West, The Streets, Franz Ferdinand, George Clinton, Arctic Monkeys, Guns N Roses, Kaiser Chiefs, Lady Sovereign, The Strokes, Bob Dylan, Primal Scream, Hyper, Happy Mondays... All in all 180 different musical acts. And me.
As it turned out I was booked to appear firstly on Thursday, effectively opening the festival. One moment this vast tented arena was empty except for a few curious stewards and riggers but after five minutes of some thundering breaks blasting out over a superb sound system, the whole place erupted with thousands of clapping, cheering crowds of teenagers.
Being first on I had absolutely no idea of what kind of music they were expecting; Roskilde is a renowned ROCK festival and one of the organisers told me that the only breakbeat known to the audience would probably be 20 second soundbites from TV commercials, or from mobile ringtones. But I thought I would just jump in the deep end... and I think it worked.
Valhalla I am coming
Roskilde is on the island of Zealand in Denmark, heart of Viking country, around a 30 minute drive from Copenhagen. Writing this on a computer using wireless technology is rather apposite, as Bluetooth is named after an early king of Denmark, Harald Bluetooth. He’s buried in Roskilde Cathedral, but even if he isn’t into his beats, Harald can’t exactly turn in his grave, as his remains are walled up behind the bricks! Being brother-in-law of Erik Blood Axe, violent former King of Norway, I’m sure old Harald blinging Bluetooth would have been up for some serious festival partying in his prime around 930 AD - that’s really back in the day!
Drinking in the sun
The festival site seemed to be awash with oceans of Carlsberg. Even the mineral water is brought to you by Carlsberg! Whole marquees and huge tents sponsored by lager companies dominated the site. If lager was my favourite tipple I think I would still be there, flat out, spread out on the grass staring at the sun. Like quite a few people were after a couple of days.
There were people to meet, radio shows to do, World Cup matches to try to see, interviews with the Scandinavian media, as well as trying to see some of the best musicians on the planet! I set off to a really bad start, by leaving my flight bag (containing CDs and a laptop) in Copenhagen Airport when people asked me for autographs. This never happens at Stansted or Gatwick! DJs’ worst nightmare is losing your ‘set’ en route. A fast sprint back through the arrivals hall and I found the bag still sitting there. Phew!
Locked out but not missing out
It can be one of the most difficult aspects of being at huge festivals - trying to see the acts you've been looking forward to for months. You lose your way, you go to the wrong stage, you have the wrong wristband, you bump into old friends, go for a drink, forget the time... and miss the magic moment. Or your two favourite acts are playing at the same time on different stages, or you're playing at the same time as someone else you want to see. In my case on Day One, I was marooned in my makeshift dressing room with all my music and equipment because we couldn’t find a key to match the padlock on the door. Ah well, I met some really friendly people doing the catering. Someone asked if I was doing the catering. Also there’s that strange sensation of looking around you and feeling that all the festival goers look vaguely familiar, as if you have met them all at another festival some other place, some other time. Then they start to speak in a language you can’t understand and its all very disorientating. And it doesn’t get dark till after midnight so you can't help but lose track of time.
But Bob Dylan you couldn’t lose track of. I’ve been going on, not entirely seriously, for some time, about my quest to meet him properly, after he blanked me very pointedly at a festival some years ago. From the front of the main stage, I could HEAR him, but not SEE him without the benefit of giant video screens. Using all my festival skills to stalk him, I positioned myself to corner him as he came down the ramp and off stage at the end of his set. But Bob, no doubt sensing I was on the prowl, whisked himself off in a convoy of two blacked out windowed buses, into the now-finally dark Viking hinterland. I wonder where he went? To a big country house perhaps, for an all night party? To a secret airlfield to board a waiting private jet? Well I’ll never know, and there were more pressing matters to think about…
Annie Nightingale at Roskilde part 2
