Roskilde Festival II

--This is part two (Friday). Make sure you read part one (Thursday) first.--

Friday I didn’t get to the festival grounds until a little after seven o’clock. Let me explain. I don’t like crowds -- especially when I’m by myself. I couldn’t do it. Ultimately I decided I’d probably regret only going to the shortest day of a four-day event, and convinced myself to go back, but I also decided that I’d have a far better time if I limited my exposure. One of the things I like best about going to shows is being there with people I know, and without any of those available… well.

It’s a completely different thing when you’re sandwiched in front of a stage between a bunch of sweaty kids you don’t know, locked in tight, and surprisingly enough, I don’t mind that -- but what about the rest of the time? So, while I’d originally planned to start at noon with Kirsten Ketsjer (if only due to the highly interesting and somewhat comical fact that they must distinguish themselves as the rock band, not the lawyer) I scaled back. A lot.

I think I did mean to get there in time to see A Kid Hereafter at six, but apparently my sense of direction is not what it used to be. So I heard a bit of Kings of Leon’s Orange stage set (though I didn’t ever get close enough to see them) and thought it sounded good. I listened to them a little bit a long time ago, and may now have to resume. I think I remember one of the guys saying that the Roskilde show was their favorite of the summer.

There were two sets I definitely wanted to see Friday night. Both were on the same stage, Cosmopol. The first was Santogold, who I had never -- not even once -- listened to prior to Roskilde. (I think I may have done this on purpose. Don’t ask.) I was told to see her, and somehow this became an extremely important priority item. How was it? It was okay. I didn’t hate it, but I wasn’t terribly impressed. After her DJ or MC or whatever that guy is called played fifteen minutes worth of records (including, unless my memory fails me, Every Breath You Take by the Police and something by the Smiths or Morrissey) she came on late, played/sang an extremely short -- thirty-minute -- set, and skipped an encore. Some of the people in front of me seemed really into it, but in my opinion, it could have been a lot better. However, I did like the second song – which I have a sneaking suspicion may be the song that has been stuck in my head for the past two weeks. No, seriously. It has.

And now, after taking the initiative, going back, and finding that song, I am amending this entry. Yeah, it was L.E.S. Artistes, the first song from Santogold’s debut, that has been continually popping up repeatedly in my head after my having heard it only once, a long time ago. And going through the rest of the album, I recognize a lot of the songs, despite, again, having only heard them once. So she’s pretty catchy. I’m warming up to her. And I can also say this -- L.E.S. Artistes, especially, is about twenty-five times better live than it is on the album.

Moving on… Santogold finished at about 9:15, 9:20 maybe, and Robyn (the other must-see) wasn’t due on until 10, so I walked clear across the grounds to the Arena, where Mogwai was playing. I was there for about fifteen minutes, which for Mogwai was about a song and a half. That’s okay -- though I wish I could have been there longer. They don’t sing, so it’s harder to notice, but Mogwai is/are (?) Scottish. And they’re not really what one could call pop, either, but whatever. I love Scottish bands. Mogwai was awesome. And really loud.

Then back over to Robyn. I was so far back I could barely see her -- it really filled up in the time I was gone. People are really into Robyn. Everyone there seemed super excited. I’d barely even heard Robyn’s music before, and I was super excited.

A little story about Robyn. When I was really young -- eight or nine, maybe -- I was a girl scout. Part of our girl scout membership fee included subscription to this magazine called American Girl, which, when you reached a certain age, was replaced with a more mature magazine called Girls Life. I’m fairly sure I stopped being a girl scout long before reaching this age, but for some reason, my magazine subscription never got cancelled. I always read it, even though it was mostly ridiculous. And one of the only articles I remember -- and have always remembered -- was about (oddly enough) Robyn. It must have been ten years ago; I was that young. I don’t really remember the article, except that it was very positive, but I remember the picture -- she had what looked like thin strips of white athletic tape wrapped around her fingers like rings -- and the title: Robyn is Here. Same as the album -- although not why I remember it. To be honest, I don't know why I remember it, or even why it was significant, and I know it didn’t make me go out and buy her album (however unfortunately). I just thought it was strange that that was one of the things I remembered. Maybe, somehow, I knew...

Anyway. People were jumping around and going crazy and singing along and I was in the very back of the tent -- I can’t imagine what they were doing up close. Robyn seemed equally enthused. She played two encores, and I really believe that almost nobody left. Everybody’s hands were in the shape of hearts. It was excellent, and I wish I’d taken that stupid magazine more seriously way back then. I’m very much looking forward to the fall '08 date she promised Portland in exchange for the cancellation in May. Now I understand why people were SO upset.

Let’s see. Then I went over for Grinderman at the Orange stage. I saw three songs, the third of which was No Pussy Blues, the first and, I think, only song I’d ever heard by Grinderman. But Nick Cave is Nick Cave, and even from a quarter mile or however far I was away, he was Nick Cave. I saw him on both guitar and piano. Pretty interesting. Very unique. I don’t know what else to say.

I ended the night with Goldfrapp. I wasn’t really impressed; in fact, it was something of a letdown. Not that there’s anything wrong with Stevie Nicks, but she was very Stevie Nicks, and that’s not what I want to see from Alison Goldfrapp. Well, to be honest, I’m not quite sure what I wanted to see, but it wasn’t that. A little more energy, maybe? Her vocal range is impressive, but at a live show, you need a little more than that… I mean, really, she was just standing there singing, and looking like it was 1970, but in the bad way. I don’t know -- I think I wanted something slightly dirtier and less glittery. I left after a couple songs, and went home kind of disappointed. Maybe staying for Spleen United at 2 a.m. would have alleviated it, but I probably would have fallen asleep standing up in the meantime. I think I spent the rest of the night pretending Robyn was the last act I’d seen. Yesssss.