It’s that time of year. The nights are darker; leaves are beginning to fall from the trees; autumn is approaching and winter is looming. So how have we celebrated our last dying embers of summer? I would say through the Bank Holiday Weekend and the annual Reading/Leeds Carling Festival. It is my experience of Leeds which I wish to share with you.

Ok, so I’m a wimp and the first to admit it. Regretfully (but also thankfully,) I failed to participate in the ‘real’ Festival experience. I did not hamper myself with a leaky tent and not enough tent pegs. I did not partake in singsongs round the old campfire whilst gulping down gallons of warm beer. Nor did I spend an uncomfortable night in the confines of a sleeping bag and douse myself up to the eyeballs in Imodium to escape the portaloo ‘experience.’ No, no, not me. By early morning I was safely tucked up in my own cosy bed some twenty miles away from this mud-infested event.

The problem was, having no money and no particular desire to spend an extortionate £105 on a weekend ticket, I had dug myself a rather impossible hole. All I wanted to do was to see Morrissey and had no means to do so.
Sadly, I missed the first day which bolstered the likes of Supergrass and Greenday, but, by the eve of the second, I was gratefully clutching my warm pint of Carling and observing the likes of Graham Coxon; The Offspring and The Darkness. Somehow, I had managed (thanks to the likes of a friend), to wrangle backstage tickets for Saturday, and, boy, was I stoked.

Watching the Offspring, I was aware that Dexter Holland (vocals/guitar) is a bit of a Peter Pan figure. This is the guy who never grows any older, he is ageless; still a skate-punk ass singer accompanied by an increasingly decrepit looking Noodles. I think he must have discovered the secret of anti-aging, or is trapped in time, a bit of a Dorian Grey. Yeah, the Offspring were succinct, professional, fun and put on a good show, but I can’t help but think our old Dexter must have warbled ‘Pretty Fly for a White Guy,’ just one too many times for my liking. To think, ten years ago, this was the band that Nirvana, grunge-garage kids worshipped and now, well, not much has changed I guess; maybe a more rock-retro-style group of grungo teenagers instead. Somehow I think The Offspring need to progress a bit more, make a change and get out of that stagnant time-warp that they appear to be stuck in.

Graham Coxon, the gem, still has that charm and panache that is, now, unfortunately lacking in blur. Listening to songs such as ‘Freakin’ Out,’ his arching style of experimental punk was refreshing and uplifting, an enjoyable experience.

However, nothing could have compared in greatness to the awesome, the spectacular, the incredible sound that was, (drum role please….) The Darkness! Ok, I really can appreciate why people hate them; a fad, a Whitesnake, Spinal Tap, Kiss rip-off, but The Darkness are not just rock stars in a crummy band, they are entertainers, performers. Not only were the crowd highly amused by Justin Hawkins’ three costume changes from skimpy cat suits to a pirate inspired sequin incrusted diva outfit; the fire-work display, stage effects and glitter shoots on the ecstatic crowd were an exhibition in themselves. Oh, yeah, and these guys can really play! Both Hawkins brothers made their Gibson’s positively sing with pleasure and are genuinely very talented. Amongst classic album tracks including, ‘I Believe in a Thing called Love;’ ‘Get Your Hands off my Woman;’ and ‘Love is only a Feeling,’ they also performed a dazzling rendition of Radiohead’s ‘Street Spirit (Fade Out).’ It was all there, a bolshy lead singer, over-the-top guitar solos and screeching high notes worthy of a castrato.

So ended a successful day, but I was left with a heady problem - Morrissey. How could I acquire tickets? This was devastating and, truth be known, I was getting desperate.

Whether this is a point about security or my own cool-mindedness, I am unsure. All I can say is that I myself (and three others) finally got to see the God-like status of Mr. Stephen Morrissey shake his energetic tail feathers on the big stage. I did not fake my ticket, no, no; I merely re-used the same one I had procured the night before. It worked like a dream! Security failed to detect this rather large flaw and, lo and behold, I was returned to backstage quarters.

Personally, backstage is rather boring. I saw a grinning Colin Murray interview a goofy Franz Ferdinand and Shell, the red-faced blonde from Big Brother entertain a couple of adoring male fans through the skills of ra-ra conversation, while artfully smoking cigarettes (Marlborough Light, I presume). What was more important was the music.

I arrived to the honeyed sound of Razorlight and Jonny Borrell (singer/songwriter) stalking around stage whilst lusciously purring his sultry lyrics down the microphone. Unfortunately, I only caught the last two songs, ‘VICE’ and the delectable ‘In the City.’ Boy, this guy is a dude and, ‘In the City,’ shows Borrell, at the tender age of twenty-two, gurgling out a Dylanesque monologue of words over a pretty catchy melody. This band is gonna be huge!

The mod inspired The Ordinary Boys and their heavy retro-sound were also a success along with ‘Take Me Out’s,’ Franz Ferdinand. Having avoided purchasing Franz’s album, I think I have made a mistake. These guys rocked and were so much more impassioned on stage than on the screen, a must see festival band!

However, this was nothing compared to, yes, you guessed it, the man who needs no introduction, Morrissey! Swarve; sophisticated; smooth; socially inept; celibate; chaste (GODDAM!!!!) Believe me, being female, I drooled! Obviously this guy was there to flaunt his latest album, ‘You are the Quarry,’ and so, Smiths songs were going to be a rarity. However, this was not to be a disappointment. Amongst old classics such as ‘Shoplifters of the World Unite,’ and ‘There is a Light that Never goes Out,’ his new material was warmly welcomed including ‘First of the Gang to Die,’ and ‘Irish Blood, English Heart.’ How he minced, how he sung with our Northern blood feeding his passion! I have never seen someone care so much, a passion and a truth that will be hard to forget. I think I sprained my mouth from smiling. He might have abandoned his hardened Manchester lifestyle for the sunnier confines of LA, but Morrissey can still make music sound so pure and genuine through his own curiosity, openness and experience- things so dam hard to truly capture in lyrics. This man is a legend.

The White Stripes followed on and headlined. This is one of my favourite bands of all time and Jack White still manages to look shy and scared even though he has gained a Godlike rock n’ roll status. It was refreshing to hear tracks from their earlier albums such as ‘Jimmy the Exploder,’ and ‘You’re Pretty Good Looking (for a Girl).’ On stage, they had a real bluesy appeal, something I think that is lacking in their recent album ‘Elephant,’ and the influence of legends such as Son House have obviously deeply affected our Jack. However, I also got the feeling that fame had taken its toll on our favourite duo because, after a long tour, there was a certain passion that seemed to be missing. Whilst their improvisation was amazing along with the different emphasis and various slants they put onto well-known tunes, they were so polished, so perfect, flawless, but sucked dry.

And so ends my festival encounter. A grand day was had by all. Thanks to shoddy work from the security team, I was able to see some of my most cherished and favourite bands of all time, an experience never to be forgotten.

Reviewed by Helen Thornton.