This is less of a review of the bands playing at the festival and more of a moan about the human races slow slide into despondency and desolation due to neon cheek paint, trilby hats and hilarious superhero costumes. Do not get me wrong, I do not have hatred for Reading or Leeds, in fact I went to Reading for three years consecutively when I was a wee kniper (17) and it shaped my very being.  However in the last year of reveling I realised that I was too old and too cynical to see people throwing beer cans on alight tents which were near my face. I realized that I did not enjoy camping anymore or being so dehydrated in the morning after a heavy night that I considered licking the dew from the grass to re-quench myself. In short I was old and boring. 

This year however  I returned as a performer type person with the band that I am in (Los Campesinos!) venturing along to play on the new and excitingly named One Republic stage. This was previously known as the Carling stage but they do not sponsor it anymore, apparently democracy does. But I was excited about playing Reading, due to my vested history and fond childhood memories of the festival. After all it was the first place I gave out drunken free hugs, skanked around a sound desk and got my breasts fondled by a passing total stranger. Some of these times I cherish more then others.

Anyway before arriving on site we realized we had more guest passes for Reading then friends so we decided there was only one thing to do, tout our day tickets and divide the rewards between the band and crew.  The credit crunch has hit us hard so we need to save up as much money as can for ruffled shirts and blue cardigans or whatever it is us twee bands spend our money on. Anyway I managed to make enough to buy my food for a week including something nice from the Tesco finest range (it was about 15 quid.) 

When we arrived on site I went to watch a lovely band I have had the pleasure of befriending  called Fight Like Apes (as much as you can befriend other people in bands you see every four weeks at festivals inbteween promo and sound checks.) Fight Like Apes hail from Ireland and were playing on the same stage as us, they were as usual very awesome and I even got a little shout out which made me put my hand up and wave enthusiastically.  From a outsiders perspective it seemed as if I was trying to alert the audience to the fact that I Ellen from Los Campesinos! was standing in their midst….. it was however more a “MY NAME GOT MENTIONED YES!” kind of thing. I am well aware I am not that one out of Black kids, or the Subways or the Ting Tings (but more on them later.)

Before we played I decided to venture out to the festival itself to meet up with my sister and try some of the local delicacies, I have a real soft spot and love for festival food, I have tried to be friends with Pieminister’s everywhere I go, sadly Reading has less in the way of square pastries with yummy fillings and more in the way of sausages. But still the food gets a 8 out of 10 for honest over priced but strangely delicious food. On this brief venture out I got barged into about five times, I saw some people with “anti emo squad” jackets on, everyone was wearing neon face paint or those stupid bloody army hats and I felt like Reading had been replaced with a Weatherpoons in Camden. I can’t help it, I am not a snob but I remember people caring a lot less a couple of years ago, everyone looked really hideous and smelt bad but it didn’t matter. Everyone here had good hair and hole free tights which I couldn't even manage and I was staying at a holiday inn (premium as well! Free breakfast and a copy of the independent!)

I had some whisky with ice in an attempt to stop drinking so much teeth destroying diet coke and immediately got paranoid about my level of drunkness…. Would I peak too early? Not peak enough? I thought I had balanced it well however and we went on stage to find a rather enthusiastic audience, who knew words and even opened up a mosh pit. I know we are not the kind of band who incites mosh pits,  so its always nice and alarming to see. In fact I think it was one of the best audiences we have ever had....

During the set Gareth mentioned that it was extremely lovely of the audience to see us instead of the Manchester band “The Ting Tings” who were playing simultaneously at the NME tent. This comment however resulted in the audience all chanting  “fuck the ting tings,” with a large amount of enthusiasm. Half an hour after the set Tom received a Google alert which informs us that NME has published a story on its website which reports on us joining in and encouraging this chant whilst “beaming.” Firstly, I do not “beam” I smile in a wondrous manner, and secondly if 600 people are shouting “fuck the ting tings” at you, then yes you would smile, don’t NME get the surrealism of that kind of situation? A time when you thought you would be working in a office you’re on stage with people shouting profanities at you in a weird kind of collective consciousness chant? And of course we didn’t join in, its between songs, we were tuning up.  Also they deemed them our rivals, they were playing a far better stage and have sold like a billion records and have these songs that go on adverts and you hear in the off license and tescos, we can’t touch them.

Post gig I watched Foals, and also ended up watching this drunk middle aged man dance around whilst trying to place his skanky old trilby on other peoples heads. It was the dance and moves of a man who is still looking for reassurance that he is the life and soul of the party, that he is bringing the good time to the tent, that despite his aging Trilby, he does still have one and therefore is still cool. This manifested itself in him looking around every five seconds to see if people were giving him attention, when in fact people came to watch the bloody band. He then preceeded to do a poor imitation of me watching foals (i.e arms crossed straining to see their foppish hair, but dancing inside with eyes that are on fire with joy) whilst looking around to see if anyone was laughing at his desire to still be the class clown he was in 1952. I wanted to punch him. But foals were stupidly good, and their crowd was immense.

I then lost everyone, found some cigarettes and went to see Alkaline Trio in the lock up tent so I could pretend I was 16 again and try and shake off this old lady cynicism. Waiting half an hour in a tent for a band who play lots of new songs, rubbish old ones and ignore the “festival set” rules does not help. Also there was these two couples in front of me, with both the girls trying to do sexy dancing in the middle of a completely packed tent, with their boyfriends protecting their dancing area at all times. They were not the fucking pussy cat dolls, and their boyfriends were gurning due to drug use and pretending to know the words. I watched them more then the gig due to the fact I wanted there to be some kind of wall of death opening up in which I could rush at them both with my soggy beer cup and see how much damage I could do.

Then we went back to the travel inn and slept for a good eight hours.

We ventured to Leeds early to see Lovvers who we have toured with before, and they had new hair and new pocket watches and sounded very immense despite the fact we only caught about two songs. It was sunny and I got to take off my hoody several times to bask in the sunshine. The line up was the same as yesterday so I had more chat with Fight Like Apes and then went to catering on my own, which made me look like a looser amongst the Ray Ban wearing untouchables. I had some nice lime cheesecake though so I didn’t feel like a looser.  I felt cooler then the people in the guest area, (which is where the guests go to have their drinks which are more expensive then on the actual festival site), they were all heat inspired straining faces all desperately looking for Brandon Flowers or that one from Editors. Some even looked at my backstage pass when I walked past to see if I was anyone significant, then muttered to themselves when they realised I wasn’t.

Then we did our little giggy thing, which was the last one of the festival season so it was a bit sad, Gareth tried to get in the audience and the view from stage was much like watching a man being eaten alive by flesh eating zombies. I jumped on a drum riser and then wondered what I was doing on the drum riser and looked at my feet, I also got up on a monitor but only coz everyone else did, and then I looked above the audience. We then left, and  I brought some wine for the journey and spent the four and a half hour journey back discussing the circus we would open compered by me in which Ollie would pole vault using his penis. I love my band. That was the end of festival season.

Ellen