La Route du Rock 2005

Not too long ago, I went over to France / St. Malo / La Route du Rock music festival. The good thing about getting the ferry package deal is that you get there with all your fellow country-folk one day before the natives, and can set up your camp in the best spots together. Also, I have learned, that if you want to make as many nice friends as possible at a festival quickly, you should bring a tent without one of its poles so that it is nigh impossible to erect without looking helpless. This gave the three nice young ladies camping nearby offers of help from all kinds of helpful souls, thereby breaking the ice and giving them lots of friends for the rest of the weekend. The only down-point of their 'plan' was that they did have to sleep crushed in a two-man tumble-down tent held up precariously by sticks and string. If a big-bad wolf had come by from the woods around us, I fear they would have been the first victims of his huffing and puffing (!). But, for the record, they were in no way piggy.

Here's what I remember:

• The thing that struck me most, that hit a chord with me while I was there, took place away from the festival, in a little park area in the middle of St. Malo's attractively old-fashioned town. Two young boys were playing with a ball, kicking it between them over most of the length of the park. Neither were old enough to be very accurate, though they did have the enthusiasm to make up for it. Then there was the little girl, of maybe three or four, who could just about toddle about where she wanted to go, or where her clumsy momentum carried her. With her long dress and curly black hair, she was fascinated by that ball. The boys played regardless of her fixation, but her being ignored in the game resulted in outbursts of delirious joy. Most of the time she would just tumble towards the ball in whichever direction it happened to be, back and forth between the boys. Never getting near it, because she could never move far enough from the middle point before she would lose the ball momentarily as she span about realising it had moved again behind her. But then, every so often, it would roll by her feet so close that her eyes snapped open wide, she threw her arms in the air and screamed with delight. But just for a second. Then it was back to the waddling back and forth, endlessly chasing that magical bright round toy. I couldn't help chuckle with a big smile every time she lost control of her happiness so suddenly.
  
  
• Banning photographs of live performances sucks. I don't understand the point of it.
  
  
• The chav factor. Mainly coming from the Channel Islands, because of the chance for a cheap 'festival experience' away from home, there were a notable number of festival-goers who were in no way interested in the music of the festival, but were more interested in playing their own choons, boasting about being fukkin wasted and ceaselessly pestering everyone else for some 'spare green'. Regulation baseball caps were worn.
  
  
• Even a number of the musos who seemed to know what they were talking about with the music and wanted to see some of it, seemed to regress to student-mentality of getting wasted just because.
  
  "I was throwing up badly on Thursday night, but I wasn't drunk at all last night"
  "Yeah, well, heheh, we'd better make up for that tonight"
  "Yeah!"
  
  and
  
  "The only band I saw last night was Yo La Tengo, but then I didn't really 'see' them, I was so gone... Ohhh, tonight I want to get completely out of it for ChkChkChk [another band]"
  
  I understand drinking for pleasure, but I don't understand that. I had a good time and I saw some music!
  
  
• You are too old when you see want to laugh at a shop you see on Guernsey called "Miss Nob", but don't.
  
  "Ha ha, did you see Miss Nob?"
  "Oh, what, that shop? Yes, funny isn't it... but I thought it was a bit silly to say anything at the time."
  
  I did laugh at the time... not too hard, though ;o)
  
  
• A classically old teddy bear who automatically moves his arm and blows bubbles from the outside high corner of a toy shop is undeniably cool.
  
  
• Allowing a stranger (not me, but some man with a large SLR camera) to take photographs of your child and other children as they play without speaking to him at all is either very liberal of the French, or very careless. I'd like to think comfortably not-paranoid, is the best perspective. But it did seem odd, I felt a strong expectation that was not met that someone should be saying something to him.
  
  
• Yo La Tengo are fantastic live, the only bugbear being that Ira does like to do freak-out guitar a little too often. This show was highlighted by their unexpected synchronised dancing and spot-lit microphone-crooning.
  
  
• Animal Collective need to shape up. Fantastically creative on record, lazily noodling on stage. Some people seemed to dig the tribal beat moments, though, getting upon stage and freaky-dancing along.
  
  
• The Polyphonic Spree completely destroyed the mood needed to enjoy Sonic Youth. Tim DeLaughter thinks he is Jesus and only has blissfully energetic and pure times for us. It is very cool to ahhhhhh along. Sometimes bands get you to clap a beat, or sing back a chorus line, but The Spree got the audience to hold a long tone of voice... just ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. All together, it really was something.
  
  
• You're far away from friends and home and, all of a sudden, the theme from Twin Peaks unexpectedly emanates from the main stage speakers, bringing you right back to good times recently had and the people you know and like.
  
  
• It sucks to be left alone in a supermarket when out shopping for camp-site supplies with your new 'friends'. Yeah, hahaha, chat chat... and gone, left at the checkout, not waiting, and no sign as to where they have gone to. Off they all went, leaving Marky to go get himself a very tasty baguette from a sandwich shop he found all by himself. Screw them! }oP
  

Back next year, if I can convince someone else to come along this time. There are some pictures online here.