• Home
• News
• Features
• Reviews
• TV
• Photos
• Win
• Blog
• Magazine
• Merch
• Festivals

Download Destruction - The Final Vinyl

So Sunday finally comes around. I’ve had no ‘effin sleep… and it’s freezing cold, so I decide to get a lovely hot shower at 6am.

So Sunday finally comes around. I’ve had no ‘effin sleep… and it’s freezing cold, so I decide to get a lovely hot shower at 6am. Get in the “shower” – which is like a porta loo – only to find it’s like a medieval torture device; it’s so cold I can only imagine this being used for marines on the punishment block or sadists. I must be a sadist. Thing is, you can’t just leap out as you’d be naked in the field looking a right knob… and as I’ve already got shampoo in my hair and have to endure 2 excruciating minutes.

Right, back to the tent and a ‘settler brandy’ (I know it’s early morning but this is an emergency!) and a kip with wet hair.

A few hours later an amazing new Victorian grindcore band are being developed – Fucked By Harold Shipman’s Owl – the two piece are going ‘hell for Feathers’, shredding on lutes, etc. Me and Tyson love it! Women love beak – you knows it. Davyd (one half of the combo) convinces two kids that they have actually played on the main stage and these kids believe they’ve seen them. Amazing.

Get to the press area (similar to the VIP area except there’s loads of journos and snappers hiding from the crowds, eating jelly beans and comparing horror stories of the weekend, plus a few bands being interrogated) only to find there’s no Snapper Crane. With Valient Thorr all lined-up waiting to be interviewed, I’m a little concerned… Even more so when I hear tales of the ‘backstage riot’ last night – where no one could leave the backstage area and patrons were fenced in. A certain snapper smashed down the gate and, apparently (this is the hot myth and legend), was stood in a ring of security who were trying to take him down. Apparently (again, according to the legend circulating) one actually touched his camera bag (note - you NEVER, EVER do this unless you are mental) and was sent flying, causing six to (eventually) pin him down. Amazingly (apparently), he was still grinning. Now when Crane failed to show up I automatically assumed the two incidents were linked and said snapper was in Jail or worse. Fortunately in he walked, casual as you like, late because he couldn’t get any petrol. What a legend.

We chatted exploding mysterious insect bites with Devil Sold His Soul, toilets with Children Of Bodom, crazy stuff with RS’ new Welsh mates Kids In Glass Houses, wildness with The Wildhearts and time travel with the mighty Thorr (all of which – plus more can be viewed at rock-sound.net/tv) . We drank a litre of Tequila Sunrise (and managed to convince everyone to do the same as it’s got orange juice in so it must be packed with vitamins!) then took in sights of the mighty Valient Thorr rockin’ like a mutha, Cavalera Conspiracy playing loads of Seps and Nailbomb covers, Davyd convincing more kids they’d seen FBHSO, our tent neighbour Reuben Truant looking like he’d actually died and a lovely lass who got myself and Tyson a pint of whiskey and coke. Nice. Back at the campsite we manage to offend Al Truant with an image of Pat Butcher clad in her peephole, crotchless red scanties.

So, back to Wales…