Festivals have come a long way since the crazy, chaotic days of Woodstock and Altamont, even old school stalwart Glastonbury has been transformed beyond recognition..as has Michael Eavis’ bank balance, the cynical hypocritical farmjockey. There’s no more Police emergencies, no more dangerous brown acid (unless you really want to score it)

Theres no more random shootings or Hell’s Angels ruling with violence, fear and fetching, cutomized denim gilets no, no, it’s far safer these days…instead we get the pleasures of ‘V’ festival, Hard Rock Calling, T in the park – the terrifying social bullies have finally been vanquished, replaced by the asinine, user friendly crocodile smiles of the infinitely more sinister, corporate bully. Branded, homogenous festivals where you can buy cunting UGG boots, or safely put a deposit down on a holiday home in Corfu in a cashpointed, security patrolled backstage area. For an extra £50 you can get V.I.P. status..which basically means you share a camping space and overpriced bar with other idiotic cunts who think they’ll get the chance to rub shoulders with the stars…unless your idea of a star is Colin ‘dress down Friday’ Henderson – account manager for Boots online marketing ltd. You’re gonna be sorely (as in anally raped sorely) disappointed.

Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not against festival organisers raising cash to better the experience, quality of equipment and roster of acts and all that but really…look at the quality of the acts first…where are the burgeoning talents? The young guns here to save the world? On the Shockwaves hair products mini stage, 14 miles from the rest of the festival and on at the same time as Iron Maiden or the MacDonald’s happy meal giveaway hour. Is that really where you want your money going? is it? Just a crazy revolutionary idea (that’s what I do) but how about pouring some hard earned dollars into smaller fry like Bloodstock? Supersonic? Or Damnation? What about All Tomorrow’s Parties? All of these organisations that target MUSIC FANS instead of channel 4 tie-ins, or some Pepsi max sponsored abuse of young teenagers bank accounts and tender minds...these are festivals where the music tends to lead the way not Fearne ‘cunt like a sandpaper pocket’ Cotton drooling inane verbal vacuum whilst filmed in front of a massive HSBC logo, not so much a music presenter more a glorified sales lackey pumped full of cashdollar by a Vodaphone marketing exec in designer wellies. Not Miquita Oliver, lolling about like a personality free, mentally
impaired fuckmuppet dressed by her blind mormon grandmother.

It’s time to remember music festivals are about MUSIC…that noise that comes out of those people on the distant horizon in a jampacked field full of consumer robots, MUSIC not corporations, not TV channels, not overpriced watred down beer. That noise that makes you wanna reach for the heavens, cry for the fallen, kiss the girl or boy you just want so bad your top shop cut off combat trousers are leaking sexjuice for. Recapture the joy, reclaim the music, fuck the money LETS PARTY!!!!!! It’s time stand waist deep in shit and empty beercans and to invoke the spirits of joy with a nostalgic listen to “Memory Of A Free Festival” by the young, idealistic hedonist Mr. David Bowie.

Now fuck off and get filthy in the name of fun.

VIVA LA EVOLUTION!