Benicassim Day Two // Hot Hot Heat (And Fun In The Sun)

So, we made it. Finally. Due to numerous administrative errors and the vicissitudes
of modern life, Noize’s descent into the bowels of indie heaven was delayed by 24 hours. Life’s a bitch, you know, but that’s par for the course at the sharp end of the indie blogosphere. And as every cloud has a silver lining, Noize is hopeful that as others flag, we’ll still be going strong come Sunday night……..

But Friday first. The word hot just doesn’t begin to describe what a skinny, white Brit feels upon broaching the simmering dust bowl badlands in which Benicàssim Festival nestles, full as it is with swathes of red-tinged Brits sprinkled among Blacks’© entire tent stock and half-polished whisky and vodka of the cheapest local brand. With our accommodation pitched and the mild heatstroke beginning to pass, there was really only one course of action – the coldest beer possible, accompanied by a band or two. 

As the sun set over the mammoth main stage, Julian Casablancas, clad in a fetching red velvet suit, swaggered through new material and Strokes rehashes, apparently unaware of the torrid sound production beyond the frontier of his monitors. “Is this it?” we thought to ourselves. Shorn of his mates, the retro tricks that once seemed so cool stank of second rate pastiche.

Speaking of regrettable attempts at rehashing great past albums, Peter Hook is now top of our list of offenders. Here is a man who should not have been allowed, on legal, moral or musical terms, to reinterprate Unknown Pleasures. One grimaced at the spectacle. Logically, a homage to the Haçienda swooped to occupy the Joy Division jukebox that had just been on stage. Justin Robertson took the mantle by plowing the eager punters with nineties-rave-inspired beats followed by aged Haçienda residents DJ Pierre and Graeme Park. 

Vampire Weekend and their Paul Simon-esque, calypso-riff style were probably the most appropriate band in the history of music to play in 35º heat. Number one in the US - apparently some people still buy albums - these youngsters beamed with confidence while bestowing hits such as Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa and A-Punk. Lacking a well-executed climax to their set, Noize moved its base to the Heineken house, replete with ample stock and a big screen in the backstage area.

With the heat refusing to relent and the refreshment on offer starting to take effect, we were able to muse on the assembled masses. Is anyone left in Shoreditch right now? It seems that that higher the waistband (especially on your oh-so-trendy denim shorts with turn ups), the Londoner you are. We’re just waiting for Saturday to crack out our NE1 ensemble.

Words by Neill Higgins

Photos by Melanie Manneville

Vampire Weekend, complete with comedy beach hat and coloured Wayfarers.

Ezra Koenig gives it some. As he should.