A couple of months ago, I went through a phase of listening to loads of RDF, which led me back into the depths of the record collection to those halcyon early 90s crusty days. (Bonus points if you got the Orbital gag there). I went so far as to compile a mix called “Wango Riley’s Travelling Stage Revisited”. Wango’s was a fixture of the free festival circuit, as much as Pete Loveday’s Russell comics or dodgy blokes trying to sell you dodgy things, an old truck with cabin and flatbed intact, but the sides cut away to leave a covered stage and backdrop. One of my favourite festival memories is watching Poisoned Electrick Head play there at a festy near Nottingham. The PEH live experience was in full effect - that same experience which, according to the band, had been known to cause spontaneous DNA restructuring in casual observers. This meant two manic frontmen wearing luminous road safety vests and robot dancing while the musicians all played in boilersuits and Geigeresque masks (it must have been baking in there). The sun was setting over the trees on site when a random spectator climbed on top of one of the buses parked near the stage and started mucking about with sticks and petrol. And then a huge plume of flame came racing from his mouth. I was stood there with a great band fizzing through my synapses, watching someone breathe fire against the dying of the day. You don’t get that at a Keane gig.
free festivals
