When asked to reel off a list of festivals on mainland Europe, one tends to think of ‘EXIT’, ‘Sonar’, ‘Rock AM Ring’ and the accursed “Brits on tour” offering, ‘Benicassim’.
The more curious fellow will take pride in listing Gothenburg’s ‘Way out West’ or ‘Hove’ in Norway. You’d be hard pressed to hear somebody mention ‘Nuits Sonores’ though.
The electro festival is located in Lyon, France. It’s organised by Arty Farty and has been running since 2002 and has gradually welcomed more and more dance orientated limbs through its gates with each passing year.
In order to entice the gathered throngs, this years line-up boasted the likes of Simian Mobile Disco, Vitalic, Busy P, UNKLE, 2ManyDJs, Gang of Four, Uffie, Lindstrom & Christabelle, Laurent Garnier, The Go! Team, Ivan Smagghe, Booka Shade, Liars, Jesse Rose and The Juan Maclean.
An impressive roll call indeed.
Perhaps even more impressive is the set-up and layout of the festival. For four days, the city becomes one big festival site, with nine electro stages located all over the shop offering up all kinds of opportunities for attendees to dance and get up to mischief.
Lyon is literally your oyster.
One highlight was during a daytime party. Situated in what was no more than a ginnel sandwiched between two apartment blocks, revellers were treated to a live M.C., several DJ’s, alcohol and food. One of the DJ’s had a revelation and dropped ‘54-46 Was My Number’ and the little square turned into a right angle of reverie.
The main kicks are to be had within the festival’s main site. Honourable mention goes to Laurent Garnier and Uffie; however the weekend’s plaudits are reserved for Busy P and 2ManyDJs.
Busy’s energetic to-ing and fro-ing during his set caused a frenzy amongst the small numbers that came with the sole intention of “…their tits off” (insert whichever verb you feel is relevant).
The former Daft Punk manager raised false hope when he began to throw what appeared to be money into the crowd. Disappointed grabbers were met with pieces of paper instead. The dejection turned to elation when A-Trak’s remix of ‘Heads Will Roll’ was catapulted out of the speakers.
The mantle of ‘Best Fucking Set’ is saved for 2ManyDJs. Shelving their mainstream set for Warehouse Project and Sankeys, the Dewaele brothers proceeded to melt the purist’s faces with heavy electro. For three fucking hours!
Poignant moments included the effervescent ‘Flat Beat’, the teasing intro to ‘A Milli’ by Lil’ Wayne and the unavoidable elephant in the room, which came in the form of their remix of ‘Kids’.
A humorous scene involved a case of crossed wires. During the opening moments of ‘Rock The Casbah’ by The Clash, one confused reveller was to be heard shouting “IT’S WILLENIUM!”
So, for those of you who want to attend a festival where good music and a friendly atmosphere isn’t tainted by annoying “rah on a gap yah” types or loutish indie fans then Nuits Sonores is definitely the place for you. Lyon, J’Taime.
Saturday 28 August 2010
Bitches 'Aint Shit
Rappers on The Pyramid Stage, ey? Two years ago Michael Eavis’ decision to name Jay-Z as a headliner brought with it a barrage of criticism, fronted by Manchester’s favourite hook nosed boff head Noel Gallagher.
So it is, two years later, another rapper is set to bring the gang signs to Worthy Farm. Enter stage right; Snoop Dogg. This time round, thanks in part to Jay-Z successfully bossing The Pyramid, there is no uproar amongst the festival goers. Granted he’s not a headliner.
In fact, the only real concern was whether ‘The Doggfather of Rap’ would be allowed to enter the country. “It’s been a while since I been here,” grins the lanky rapper, right before set opener ‘The Next Episode’ bowls in.
The stage is hammered, yet each attendee makes enough space to bounce both arms up and down like Snoop’s favourite Chevrolet Impala ’64.
Radio favourites like ‘Signs’ are present, but it’s the early 90’s classics like ‘Bitch Please’ and ‘Gin & Juice’ that bring out the ‘old’ Snoop. The swagger is still there, it always has been, but it’s a little less misogynistic than it used to be.
‘Beautiful’ is dedicated to “all the beautiful women”. There’s a lot more contentment and relaxation to the Snoop of today, a far cry from the man who has stood trial for murder. This might have something to do with copious inhalation of “some of that sticky icky”. His words, not mine.
Dizzee Rascal and Damon Albarn were in attendance at the side of the stage to watch the D O double G strut across The Pyramid as if he owned the place. The power stance, the pout, the slight tilt of the head, it all added to the general feeling that people were baring witness to something special.
The habitual dedication to Tupac Shakur is thrown in too, although not many people know the songs that Snoop is paying homage too.
Then Snoop shows a great deal of humility in performing ‘Pass Out’, bringing Tinie Tempah on to the stage.
Tempah brings an increase in pace to the set as he runs around frantically high fiving everybody in sight, probably counting his lucky stars that he has the good fortune to grace the main stage at Glastonbury with a bonafide legend like Snoop.
‘Drop It Like It’s Hot’ brings a chorus of “Snoooooops” from the crowd before ‘What’s My Name’ brings this amazing set to a close.
Snoop’s not finished there though. Before departing he asks three things of Glastonbury; 1.) The first thing it has to do in morning? “Brush yo teef!” 2.) Promote peace and love. 3.) “SMOKE WEED EVERY DAY!”
A wave of laughter engulfs Snoop as he exits, the smoothest man anybody is likely to see all weekend. He isn’t the only one to exit, as the throngs of crowds depart leaving what seems to be half the number of people to watch festival main stays Vampire Weekend.
Such is the draw of the rake like rapper. A festival highlight if ever there was one.
So it is, two years later, another rapper is set to bring the gang signs to Worthy Farm. Enter stage right; Snoop Dogg. This time round, thanks in part to Jay-Z successfully bossing The Pyramid, there is no uproar amongst the festival goers. Granted he’s not a headliner.
In fact, the only real concern was whether ‘The Doggfather of Rap’ would be allowed to enter the country. “It’s been a while since I been here,” grins the lanky rapper, right before set opener ‘The Next Episode’ bowls in.
The stage is hammered, yet each attendee makes enough space to bounce both arms up and down like Snoop’s favourite Chevrolet Impala ’64.
Radio favourites like ‘Signs’ are present, but it’s the early 90’s classics like ‘Bitch Please’ and ‘Gin & Juice’ that bring out the ‘old’ Snoop. The swagger is still there, it always has been, but it’s a little less misogynistic than it used to be.
‘Beautiful’ is dedicated to “all the beautiful women”. There’s a lot more contentment and relaxation to the Snoop of today, a far cry from the man who has stood trial for murder. This might have something to do with copious inhalation of “some of that sticky icky”. His words, not mine.
Dizzee Rascal and Damon Albarn were in attendance at the side of the stage to watch the D O double G strut across The Pyramid as if he owned the place. The power stance, the pout, the slight tilt of the head, it all added to the general feeling that people were baring witness to something special.
The habitual dedication to Tupac Shakur is thrown in too, although not many people know the songs that Snoop is paying homage too.
Then Snoop shows a great deal of humility in performing ‘Pass Out’, bringing Tinie Tempah on to the stage.
Tempah brings an increase in pace to the set as he runs around frantically high fiving everybody in sight, probably counting his lucky stars that he has the good fortune to grace the main stage at Glastonbury with a bonafide legend like Snoop.
‘Drop It Like It’s Hot’ brings a chorus of “Snoooooops” from the crowd before ‘What’s My Name’ brings this amazing set to a close.
Snoop’s not finished there though. Before departing he asks three things of Glastonbury; 1.) The first thing it has to do in morning? “Brush yo teef!” 2.) Promote peace and love. 3.) “SMOKE WEED EVERY DAY!”
A wave of laughter engulfs Snoop as he exits, the smoothest man anybody is likely to see all weekend. He isn’t the only one to exit, as the throngs of crowds depart leaving what seems to be half the number of people to watch festival main stays Vampire Weekend.
Such is the draw of the rake like rapper. A festival highlight if ever there was one.
Bun Your Cheap Talk
It is common knowledge that when it comes to Glastonbury, Michael Eavis is King. The Lord of the Manor. Yet, as with every kingdom, a court jester is required. At Glastonbury 2010, this was none other than the infamous Dappy, poster child of N-Dubz.
After being cajoled into making the journey to witness this modern ghetto spin on stand-up comedy, I found my opinions to be wavering. Whilst I still have no time for their actual music I respect them; in a way.
There are still certain occurrences I do not care for, with one in particular still leaving a bad taste in my mouth. In January of this year, Radio 1 listener and mother Chloe Moody text in to the Chris Moyles show, branding Dappy “vile” and a “little boy with a silly hat”.
His reaction was despicable and well documented. For this I have no time. The man has purposefully placed himself in the eye of the public, and with that recognition there is the old adage of “opinions being like arseholes, everybody has one”.
Despite his eventual apology, this reaction exhibits a distinct lack of class on Dappy’s part. For that reason, I can never hold my hands up and say “you know what? I actually like N-Dubz”.
Therein lays the irony. My refusal to fully embrace them will always be hindered by their attitudes, yet it is their attitude that earns my curiosity. Their music will never be endearing to me because it isn’t really my cup of tea. It is their sheer force of will that affords them my acknowledgement.
They simply won’t go away.
The first time I bore witness to their eventual juggernaut was on ‘Channel U’. Most of the music videos on the channel were low budget and nearly all of them were utter tripe.
Yet there was this trio whose videos continually stood out to me. Of course you know who I’m on about. The reason for that was this snarling little mutt that was more pug in a cute hat than pit bull in a harness.
There were obvious ‘bigger dogs’ on the channel, but like bigger dogs in real life, their bark scared the shit out of you and you’d want nothing more to do with them after that.
It’s the little annoying dogs in life that tend to have staying power. Whilst they peck head, a mere shove and they’re out of your consciousness. Yet you can bet your bottom dollar that they’ll come back.
This is how it is with N-Dubz. You change the channel and they’re gone. Yet after a few months and determination on their part, you change the channel and they’re on the next one. Then the next one. And so on, and so on. Until that horrific day when after you change the channel you find yourself going “Na na niiiiii.”
Society always loves a good success story. From ‘rags to riches’ and all that. It’s all the more poignant when that story is tied to a hint of tragedy too. Three years ago Dappy found his father Byron dead on the couch in their family home. He was also female band member Tulisa’s uncle.
Byron, or ‘Uncle B’, was a former bassist for band Mungo Jerry and had fought tirelessly to help the band achieve their dream of success. Two years after his death N-Dubz achieved their chart topping single with Tinchy Stryder’s ‘Number 1’.
With this dedicated drive behind them the band has gone from strength to strength. Dappy has tidied up his ham-fisted vocals, whilst still managing to retain the lethargic delivery.
Adidas have come sniffing and they’re currently the focal point of a Channel 4 series “Being…N-Dubz”. It’s nothing short of remarkable.
The naysayers can point to the fact that were grime not the current flavour of the week, thanks to more talented and inventive artists such as Wiley and Skepta, then N-Dubz wouldn’t have a pot to piss in.
Yet sometimes, it’s not about being the best, it’s about having the hindsight to see something big coming. To strategically place yourself in a position to reap the benefits. There is nothing wrong with wanting to succeed in life, so that life in itself is more comfortable.
Watching them at Glastonbury, I did feel a degree of shame. More so because I raised the average age by about eight years, Looking around you could see people laughing, pretending to take it all as a joke, feeling as though they were too ‘cool’ to genuinely like or respect N-Dubz.
I understand these feelings, but ultimately, they’re bullshit. If the people were too cool to watch them, then why be there in the first place? I’m not about to stand here and proclaim the trio to be the saviour of British music. Yet, with all the costume changes and stage production, they are interesting to watch. It’s car crash music.
They’ve worked hard to be where they are, which is refreshing. In an industry filled with bell ends like Pete Doherty who have God given talent yet proceed to piss it all away; a success story lined with hard graft is much needed.
After being cajoled into making the journey to witness this modern ghetto spin on stand-up comedy, I found my opinions to be wavering. Whilst I still have no time for their actual music I respect them; in a way.
There are still certain occurrences I do not care for, with one in particular still leaving a bad taste in my mouth. In January of this year, Radio 1 listener and mother Chloe Moody text in to the Chris Moyles show, branding Dappy “vile” and a “little boy with a silly hat”.
His reaction was despicable and well documented. For this I have no time. The man has purposefully placed himself in the eye of the public, and with that recognition there is the old adage of “opinions being like arseholes, everybody has one”.
Despite his eventual apology, this reaction exhibits a distinct lack of class on Dappy’s part. For that reason, I can never hold my hands up and say “you know what? I actually like N-Dubz”.
Therein lays the irony. My refusal to fully embrace them will always be hindered by their attitudes, yet it is their attitude that earns my curiosity. Their music will never be endearing to me because it isn’t really my cup of tea. It is their sheer force of will that affords them my acknowledgement.
They simply won’t go away.
The first time I bore witness to their eventual juggernaut was on ‘Channel U’. Most of the music videos on the channel were low budget and nearly all of them were utter tripe.
Yet there was this trio whose videos continually stood out to me. Of course you know who I’m on about. The reason for that was this snarling little mutt that was more pug in a cute hat than pit bull in a harness.
There were obvious ‘bigger dogs’ on the channel, but like bigger dogs in real life, their bark scared the shit out of you and you’d want nothing more to do with them after that.
It’s the little annoying dogs in life that tend to have staying power. Whilst they peck head, a mere shove and they’re out of your consciousness. Yet you can bet your bottom dollar that they’ll come back.
This is how it is with N-Dubz. You change the channel and they’re gone. Yet after a few months and determination on their part, you change the channel and they’re on the next one. Then the next one. And so on, and so on. Until that horrific day when after you change the channel you find yourself going “Na na niiiiii.”
Society always loves a good success story. From ‘rags to riches’ and all that. It’s all the more poignant when that story is tied to a hint of tragedy too. Three years ago Dappy found his father Byron dead on the couch in their family home. He was also female band member Tulisa’s uncle.
Byron, or ‘Uncle B’, was a former bassist for band Mungo Jerry and had fought tirelessly to help the band achieve their dream of success. Two years after his death N-Dubz achieved their chart topping single with Tinchy Stryder’s ‘Number 1’.
With this dedicated drive behind them the band has gone from strength to strength. Dappy has tidied up his ham-fisted vocals, whilst still managing to retain the lethargic delivery.
Adidas have come sniffing and they’re currently the focal point of a Channel 4 series “Being…N-Dubz”. It’s nothing short of remarkable.
The naysayers can point to the fact that were grime not the current flavour of the week, thanks to more talented and inventive artists such as Wiley and Skepta, then N-Dubz wouldn’t have a pot to piss in.
Yet sometimes, it’s not about being the best, it’s about having the hindsight to see something big coming. To strategically place yourself in a position to reap the benefits. There is nothing wrong with wanting to succeed in life, so that life in itself is more comfortable.
Watching them at Glastonbury, I did feel a degree of shame. More so because I raised the average age by about eight years, Looking around you could see people laughing, pretending to take it all as a joke, feeling as though they were too ‘cool’ to genuinely like or respect N-Dubz.
I understand these feelings, but ultimately, they’re bullshit. If the people were too cool to watch them, then why be there in the first place? I’m not about to stand here and proclaim the trio to be the saviour of British music. Yet, with all the costume changes and stage production, they are interesting to watch. It’s car crash music.
They’ve worked hard to be where they are, which is refreshing. In an industry filled with bell ends like Pete Doherty who have God given talent yet proceed to piss it all away; a success story lined with hard graft is much needed.
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