Tag Archives: roskilde festival
MGMT — THE GOSSIP — RADIOHEAD — JOMI MASSAGE — KATE NASH — MUGISON — GNARLS BARKLEY — KINGS OF LEON — MOGWAI — HOLY FUCK — GOLDFRAPP — THE TING TINGS — JOSÉ GONZÁLEZ — TOKYO POLICE CLUB — EFTERKLANG — JOAN AS POLICE WOMAN — LYKKE LI — THE RAVEONETTES — THE CHEMICAL BROTHERS — THE DUKE SPIRIT — CAT POWER — FUCK BUTTONS — HOT CHIP — DIGITALISM — DAN DEACON
And… That's how I'm spending the next four days. Suck it, civilization.
(making it the first mud-covered whirligig of a penis I saw this year)
(I didn't do coke beforehand, but I considered it)
(I hadn't noticed how dilated his pupils were)
(she finally left our camp two days later. Half as dignified, twice as hungover, and three times pregnanter)
(I knew I should have brought'n my galoshes)
(once you've seen someone shaving their legs in public, you might as well talk about anything)
(I would have noticed sooner, but I was too imbibulated)
(which is why I'm hella not visiting the campsites of real-world friends anymore)
(untying your throat-scarf here is kind of like popping your collar back home)
(I work with her, but we'll probably never talk about this again)
(who I later saw shitting near a chain link fence)
(so that's why I never drink wine out of a box when I'm at home!)
It's one of the better-kept secrets of Denmark that people are actually quite nationalistic here. Or not. Anyway, these motherfuckers put their flag on everything.
Not that I give a particular shit about the flag thing, but I enjoy pointing out that if I rocked the stars and bars ever, I would hear '[snort] … typical' from every nearby Scand-quaintance. When I asked a friend what would happen if I camped at a music festival in a fucking American flag tent, his instant reaction was, 'Oh, they'd slash it and set it on fire. Eight minutes, tops.' This is mad incontrovertible, and I kinda want to try it. Buy the biggest American flag I can find, fashion a teepee, prop it up with a replica of the Empire State Building, weigh down the corners with Big Macs and sit in front of it with a shotgun like a store owner during the LA riots: 'Come fuck with my flaggot, punk, I dare you.'
BAND OF HORSES: I’m whiny, syrupy and Southern, yet you like me.
BATTLES: I’m made of robots!
BONNIE 'PRINCE' BILLY: The only thing gayer and more irritating than my name is my voice, persona, music and stage presence.
CAT POWER: I hate my fans for having patience.
THE CHEMICAL BROTHERS: In spite of being repeatedly awesome, we have achieved a level of American irrelevance rivaled only by the Laserdisc.
DAN DEACON: I am the musical equivalent of ironic facial hair.
DIGITALISM: It’s still the late 1990s, right? I can still make Aaliyah sounds on the keyboard and set them to high-hats, right?
DSL: I am the soundtrack to those iPodded French kids flailing on YouTube.
EFTERKLANG: I am awesome and plinky, and it will be weird to see me perform in daylight.
FANFARA TIRANA: The Balkans are too rough for any bass in our music. Horns and drums 4 life!
JOSÉ GONZÁLEZ: I am The Voice That Launched a Thousand TV Advertisement Montages.
GOLDFRAPP: I deliberately alienated by gay fans this year by releasing a non-glam album. I will be beaten to death with a high heel before I can perform this year.
HOLY FUCK: People only like me so they can buy my T-shirts
HOT CHIP: If you subtract the irony from my lyrics and the synthesizers from my music, I’m actually Elliott Smith.
JAY-Z: The last three years of my career can be summed up by the fact that I rhymed ‘Charles Barkley’ with ‘Gnarls Barkley’ on my latest album.
JOAN AS A POLICE WOMAN: Don’t tell anyone I’m American.
KINGS OF LEON: You thought I was cool until you found out I was Christian. Not in, like, a ‘Jesus is my homeboy’ way, either. I have, like, wafers with me right now.
LYKKE LI: I am the 1,083rd Swedish chanteuse to become famous in Denmark.
MGMT: And on the eighth day, God made us instantly and inexplicably famous.
M.I.A.: Not enough songs use gunshots as percussion.
RADIOHEAD: No, we’re still not gonna play ‘Creep’.
THE RAVEONETTES: My dream gig is to play the Under the Sea Dance from ‘Back to the Future’
THE STREETS: I am the reason that a popped collar has become the internationally recognized mating dance of the douchebaggia americanus.
NEIL YOUNG: I was the embarrassing, undead keystone of a staccato, 70s Parallelogram of Suck called Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. People unfathomably tolerate both my music and my existence.
Bands I ended up seeing this year:
Band Ane (plinky!)
The Flaming Lips (costumey!)
Oh No Ono
A Hawk and a Hacksaw (hammer dulcimey!)
The Who (elderly!)
Bonde Do Role
Grizzly Bear (Seattley!)
Arctic Monkeys (acne!)
Pelican (needlessly headbangy!)
Basement Jaxx (Simply! The! Best!)
Background: The first proper festival day was the wettest Roskilde day ever. From sunrise to sunset it rained. And we're not talking some light sprinkle shit. I mean RAIN. The festival grounds, which were already a mudpit from previous days' drizzles, became a full-on lake. The grass Holocaust covered every flat surface between Sweden and the Netherlands in two inches of mud, and created ponds of brown/yellow goo around every vertical surface.
I lasted until around 10 pm Thursday night before I gave up and went back to Copenhagen. I realized I was in way over my head when I stuck my hands in my pockets and they overflowed like a fat guy getting into a bathtub.
I returned to the festival Saturday to find wet ground, dry skies and rejuvenated festivalgoers. I knew the festival was back on track when I saw my first passed-out dude, outside the spaghetti bowl stand, using a paper plate as a pillow.
Highlight of the festival: Weepingly singing along to the following song, which is by far the best thing I've heard in 2007:
Also, I saw this band alone, and no one believes me that it rocked. How can you NOT want to dance Belgianly when you hear this?
I'm in serious awe of the Roskilde Festival lineup this year. I was already 8th-grade-girl excited, but they just announced 100 more bands yesterday, and now it's getting ridiculous. There hasn't been this much good music in one place since I made mixtapes for my Civic. Check it:
Arcade Fire: Even their sophomore slump is better than like 90 percent of the albums clogging up iTunes
Arctic Monkeys: I don't even like or care about this band, but I'll mention them just to make people jealous
Basement Jaxx: Hey, Americans. You know that throbby shit with empowered female vocalists you hear coming from convertibles in gay neighborhoods? That's this band. It's acceptable for heterosexuals to enjoy this kind of music on more historical continents, and I'm looking forward to seeing my breeder brethren sing along.
Beastie Boys: I'm only going if they promise to do 'Brass Monkey'.
Beirut: This is more or less all we listened to on the Italy trip last year, so hearing it at Roskilde is just going to make me think of hot sun, salty sea, and scorching heartburn.
Bjork: I only make music with grunting and whisper
Camera Obscura: Haven't heard of their songs, but they're constantly compared to other bands I like. Bring it on.
Clipse: Am I the only one who feels really over rap music? Nonetheless, I might go to this one just to watch the Danes squinting at all the slang.
Dizzee Rascal: The man who blessed the world with the line "Guilty, betrayed so innocently / Us natives act immigrantly."
Dune: Four uncomfortably good-looking 17-year-olds from the Danish peninsula. Or possibly The Shire.
Exposions in the Sky: 12-minute long, wordless drum-and-guitar mope ballads. I'm gonna bring a crepe.
Grizzly Bear: So last time I saw this band I ended up talking with them afterwards, and it turns out the bassist is from seriously like half a mile away from me in Seattle. Him: "Yeah, I'm from Everett, around 160th St." Me: "I used to go to your Taco Bell!"
The Killers: Did you know the lead singer's Mormon? I'm checking for long johns…
Klaxons: Another overhyped British band, but whatever. One of them is probably porking Kate Moss (or will be by July), and might have some good between-song anecdotes.
LCD Soundsystem: Yes! Festival's quota of meta: Fulfilled! I imagine the stage setup for this will just be the band in between two giant pairs of ironic quotation-marks.
Machine Head: Why God invented the devil-hand-symbol.
Matmos: Two French dudes who produced a Bjork album. I'm gonna need drugs for this one.
Mika: Juuuuuust in case Basement Jaxx wasn't gay enough.
Moi Caprice: The Danishest band ever. Has anyone even heard of these dudes outside of Scandinavia?
My Chemical Romance: I think I've seen this band before. There was an afternoon at a music festival about two years ago. That much I know is true. However, a Jeep, half a bottle of vodka, and a beer garden have Eternal Sunshined away any other memories of that day.
The National: They're from Portland, but I tell everyone they're a Seattle band. Gotta represent Cascadia.
Peter Bjorn & John: Why is every good band from Sweden nowadays? And no, it doesn't make up for Abba.
Queens of the Stone Age: Dave Grohl's modern-day Wings.
Red Hot Chili Peppers: I'm having more and more trouble caring about this band. As Brock put it, "Fuck their new album. It's just gonna be more songs about California." I'll still go, though, if only to see how far away you have to be before you can't see Anthony Kiedis's creepy veins.
Speaker Bite Me: I've never even heard of this band. I just want to convince Laust to go.
Taxi Taxi!: Two 15-year-old Swedish chicks with harps and piano. I saw them play a few weeks ago in Copenhagen, and it was unexpectedly awesome. I have a feeling the audience for them at Roskilde is going to be like 75 percent trenchcoat, though.
Tiesto: You know that song 'Sandstorm' that drove you crazy like five years ago? Well, he didn't do it, but if he could've, he would've.
Trentemoller: The famousest Dane since Hans Christian Anderson and that Bond villian.
The Whitest Boy Alive: I'm trusting Dan's judgment here.
Wilco: The soundtrack to every Clinton-era indie kid's unrequited love. The audience for this is gonna be a bunch of skinny Danish guys crying and carving 'Susan!' into their arms with housekeys.
The Who: It's gonna be weird seeing a troupe of half-mummified Brits singing 'teenage wasteland!' but whatever. This at least gives me an excuse to say "That pinball wizard has such a supple wrist!" all weekend.
Does anyone else get the feeling that the Roskilde Festival website just hates all the bands that are playing this year? I was really excited about going, but after reading these passive-aggressive Danglish blurbs, I feel like I should just stay home with a good book and some gravied pork.
The pioneers of white rap and kitschy music videos are back at Roskilde Festival.
Yikes. Being the 'pioneers' of white rap is like being the guy who invented the denim jacket.
Björk’s magical world still shines as brightly as the Icelandic evening sun
Translation: They're expecting her to cancel. At least this way they can blame it on the 'magical world' she lives in.
Stadium rock in the vein of U2 and Bruce Springsteen
U2 and Springsteen? Does anyone even like them anymore? That's like saying: "Here, have a Pop Tart. It's breakfast food in the vein of dodgy Korean desserts and polenta."
One of this year’s most important new bands – and surely one of the most publicized.
Translation: We think this band is as overhyped as you do. We suggest you get a styrofoam bowl of spaghetti while they pollute the Danish air with their Britishly overdone 'la la la'-ing.
English pop phenomenon with enough room in the flamboyant arsenal to harbour the best kitsch of the past 30 years.
Translation: Gay. As. Christmas.
Soothing folk-pop with grating electronics
Translation: We're not even gonna pretend with this one. Just don't go. Seriously.
The band behind one of the most important soundtracks of the youth revolution is ready to let loose the primordial forces of rock history
Translation: The average age of the people at this concert will be somewhere between Golf Course and Craftmatic Adjustable Bed.