Zombiehamster.com

I am in the process of writing a fairly substantial piece on the genius that is Mike Patton. It is no secret that I am pretty much in awe of the vast majority of his musical output and the sheer amount of material that he has contributed to or executed warrants a more comprehensive article than I am prepared to give you today. To whet your proverbial appetites, here is an odd little interview between Mr Patton and Zombiehamster favourite Danny De Vito.

I have also included an interview with Mr Patton in his home studio as he discusses how he created the soundtrack for Crank 2: High Voltage. I love his assortment of thrift store instruments, especially the ‘Speak & Spell’. It’s rare enough for Patton to give interviews of any kind, so a rare insight such as this is something to treasure.

I am going to stop now because I know that if I continue, I’ll end up putting half of the article into this post, so go, leave me, and watch.

When a relationship has passed through the nursery period it can be commonplace for it to become somewhat tumultuous. Once it’s getting further along and you realise that you truly know very little about the person, you begin to ask questions. Some of which can be more damaging than others.

Julie Delpy (Before Sunrise, Killing Zoe, Three Colours Trilogy) has clearly had some experience in these areas, significant enough that she felt compelled to write, produce, direct, star in and edit 2 Days In Paris.  She also found time to compose and perform the soundtrack as well. Such commitment may be cynically viewed as an exercise in grotesque vanity, but there is nothing about this movie that would leave the viewer with such an impression. It is without a doubt a carefully thought out, well executed movie that is a lot more intelligent than it lets on.

Adam ‘Oh I know him from stuff, he was y’know, and he was in Friends, yeah, but what was the name of that other one I saw him in?’ Goldberg plays one of his best roles as Jack, an interior designer and amateur photographer. Delpy plays Marion his partner, both left their home of New York to make a small excursion to Venice and then on to Paris, to spend time with Marion’s family.

Goldberg’s paranoia is inimitable; the language barrier offers a far subtler take on most ‘fish out of water’ movies and the free spirited parents (Delpy’s actual mum and dad) threaten at some points to steal the entire film from under the leads. From his inadvertent faux pas concerning Jim Morrison (not realising his prospective mother in law’s not so clandestine liaisons with the notorious frontman) to the father’s perverse artwork, it’s clear that Delpy is taking a playful jibe at her own colourfully bohemian upbringing which brought considerable fame to her at a very young age.

On particularly interesting scene is where Marion (and Julie’s) mother tells Jack that she was one of the ‘343 Bitches’, this was actually the case. The infamous 343 were a group of women who all made a public declaration via manifesto that they had an abortion in 1971. In the France of the time, this made them criminals. The manifesto was written by Simone de Beauvoir (she also signed the document itself), who was arguably a better writer than her long standing partner Jean Paul Sartre (but we’ll save that debate for another day, shall we?), other famous signatories included Catherine Deneuve (Belle Du Jour).

The humour that is to be found in this movie feels genuinely fresh. It seems to have been mistakenly packaged as some sort of romantic comedy, although it leans substantially closer to darkness than the viewer initially expects. The recurrence of abhorrent taxi drivers, the sheer torture that Jack puts himself through upon meeting Marion’s flamboyant and sexually predatory exes and the overall strain put between the couple are all very real, perhaps this is why it can seem both acerbic and assertive in equal measure.

Seek. Watch. Enjoy.

As you can probably tell if you are reading this, there have been some changes made here at zombiehamster.com. I was reasonably happy with the overall look of the site beforehand, but there were far too many formatting issues. You should now be able to access the archives and various categories more freely and easily. See how hard I work for you? This is progress, no?

What I am exceptionally pleased with is the return to the more traditional layout, which will allow for more articles to be seen on the main page. It seemed sort of counter-productive to only have one post on the title page, especially as sometimes there would be multiple posts in a day. So, let’s hope I can get the final few bugs out this afternoon and all will be well.

The dust has settled from the previous month’s craziness and things are very much back to normal. My self imposed work routine is back on track and productivity is once again at an all time high. It has been six months since I left the world of steady and reliable employment and whilst it has been a tumultuous period, I am still convinced that the choice I made was the right one.

The collection of short stories that I am writing is progressing well. I hope to have this finished within the coming months and now that the site is closer to what I had always envisioned, there may even be room for a new category or two in which selections could be incorporated. I have also been working extensively on my first novel, which has been gruelling, but unimaginably rewarding. There is still a long way to go, but reading over it now, after a few weeks away has definitely given me the distance and renewed motivation to continue with it.

It has saddened me somewhat that I haven’t been able to keep up my comic output more than I have done, but it’s something that is being reworked into my schedule. I miss drawing comics, even if they weren’t of the greatest quality; they’re always made with love (or pain – Ha!). The acquisition of a new Wacom drawing tablet (courtesy of a good friend) has most certainly allowed me to try out many different techniques. Once I have mastered the use of it, I imagine that the comics will resurrect themselves. I would love to have a weekly web comic on the go and this is already in the works.

The movie reviews of the bizarre, the forgotten and the downright awful will continue as they are a great way to still write after I have been concentrating on fiction for the day. I have a huge back list of titles to review and once the image issues are sorted out on the site, they will be reappearing consistently.

I don’t want this post to come across all ‘Well, I’m doing this and that and I’m writing a novel and bludurr de flurpin’ blur’ because it’s genuinely not. Just because you write doesn’t mean that you have to be a knob. It’s merely that some of you were asking what the hell it is I do; now you know. Oh, and it was my birthday the other day and I got this delightful Godzilla Boy picture from none other than Akira The Don (pictured above)! This really is marvellous, thank you sir. Also many thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes and regards, they were greatly appreciated. Talk soon. ZH

Who wants to watch another movie about The Marquis De Sade? ‘What? No, you cry?’, what about a movie about The Marquis De Sade from Jess Franco, director of such magnificent work as 99 Women, Barbed Wire Dolls, The Erotic Rites Of Frankenstein, The Awful Dr Orloff and Venus In Furs? ‘Hell yeah, I hear you say?’, then come with me into this dimly lit cottage and we shall discuss it further.

One of the most interesting things about De Sade, aside from his deviant peculiarities, are his philosophies on life, which he wrote about extensively in amongst all the smut. Both the artistic and philosophical worlds resurrected an allegiance with him several centuries after his death, praising his ethics on personal freedom and some even cited him as an early pioneer of existentialist thinking. The freedom that De Sade triumphed (or at least attempted to) was to run around eighteenth century France sticking his willy into anything that it would come into contact with. When he wasn’t putting himself into other things, he liked to capture and torture local prostitutes and servant girls for extended periods of time. If we were to take our life lessons from someone, well, he’s no Dr Phil, that’s all I’m saying.

This is an adaptation of one of De Sade’s earlier works, Justine (or The Misfortunes of Virtue) and as far as cinematic interpretations go, it remains faithful, if slightly toned down. Jess Franco has always been a master at the artfully erotic and this example is no exception. The scenes of depravity are balanced well with the crafted lighting (preferring the same primary colour washes as Argento frequently uses) and soft focus shots.

The film opens with De Sade (Played by the amazing Klaus Kinski) in prison, suffering wild hallucinations of tortured women. This differs from the novel, as in that in its original form, Justine is telling her story as she awaits the gallows. The story then cuts to a Nunnery, where sisters Justine and Juliette have lived for several years. They receive news of their father’s death and are cast out onto the streets of Paris with a few coins in their pocket. They arrange shelter but their lodgings transpire to be a brothel and Justine is repelled at the thought. Juliette decides that she is able for the life and stays, soon making allegiances and pathing the way to a life of misadventure and vice. It is not long before Justine finds herself robbed and at the mercy of strangers, all of whom try and take advantage of her. People seem drawn in by her virtue and innocence, baying to corrupt her.

She is falsely accused, embroiled in murder plots, kidnapped, imprisoned, tortured and finally, seeking refuge in a monastery, taken captive by a psychotic group of monks (very similar to the quartet of deviants in Salo). The brothers, lead by a terrifying Jack Palance (in a little seen slice of spectacular demonic possession). Along the way, it is the authority figures who offer the bitterest betrayals of trust, thus shadowing Sade’s own views on authoritarianism. For a man who was locked up for over thirteen years of his life will most definitely have something to say on the subject.

All the while, Justine’s virginal demeanor and innocence land her in nothing but trouble, whilst her whoring, conniving, murdering sister Juliette is now scaling the heights of high society. This is as deep as the philosophical elements go really, that sometimes it is pleasure and self satisfaction that are what truly matters in life.

This 1968 movie is quintessential Euro Sleaze, but the softer handling of the subject material adds extra poignancy. There are subplots of female empowerment, perversion of power and the strength that exists within revenge. Remarkably enjoyable and a good gateway for anyone who plans to make a start on the written works of the infamous Marquis, this comes highly recommended.

I have also just finished the book and if you are interested, there is a public domain version available HERE.

It all hit me on Sunday. Four nights in a tent had taken their toll. It was also the hottest day sofar. For me, in many ways, Slipknot had been the grand finale; everything today was just an added bonus. It was however, a very different place to the one we had left the night before.

There were substantially more day visitors on Sunday, clearly drawn in by the AOR nature of the line-up. Ageing rockers with more patches than denim showing emerged en masse in the early morning heat. With them they brought children, lots and lots of children. I think it’s commendable that the festival was so accommodating to families and I support any event that does so. As aforementioned, however, I had been in a tent for four days and the last thing I wanted was to be placed in the middle of a scorching field with absolutely no shelter to find that it had been transmogrified into a rudimentary nursery. Yes, it was Surly Sunday for the Zombiehamster.

My grumpiness was aided with the confiscation of our whiskey. I was under no circumstances going to drink anymore warm, flat expensive beers and so we sought the pleasure of the vine. This proved suitably pleasant and reclaiming our preferred vantage point, we sipped our Sauvignon Blanc’s and watched Stone Gods, whose traditional biker metal was surely indicative of what was still to come.

Tesla were second to perform on the main stage, their best song being ‘Signs’ which was sampled by Norman Cook a few years ago ‘And the sign said, long haired freaky people need not apply’. I really enjoyed Tesla; they were great fun, although the singer did resemble the recently resurrected corpse of a Native American dipped in candle wax. His teeth were whiter than light itself. They got the crowd going really well, but I knew that there would be no circle pits today, oh no, this was the day for air guitar and power poses. Anyone who knows me will profess to the fact that I have absolutely no issues with this whatsoever.

The specially reformed Skin (Not the Skunk Anansie Singer) followed with another display of 80’s soft rock. Their last song surprised the hell out of me however; as it transpired that they were the originators of ‘Unbelievable’ which was brought to popularity by EMF in the early 90’s. Skin’s version is far superior, with the old school riffs perfectly suiting the fast pace of the song. This wasn’t turning out so bad after all.

Black Stone Cherry. Again, I had seen so many of their shirts over the weekend that I assumed they must have a considerable following. Their set transported me back to a hundred pub rock gigs that I have seen against my will and better judgement. As with several of the bands that I saw over the weekend, there was nothing wrong with what they did, but there was nothing progressive or overly exciting to it either. Their set seemed to last a lot longer than it did as well, which is not always a good thing. Still, I didn’t care, the very reason that I got out of bed on Sunday (aside from the girl on acid in the tent next to me who had just hooked up with a tattooist named Rob) was Journey, and they were due to play in a matter of minutes.

I was sceptical and a kind of unsure of what to expect from Journey as I had seen very little footage of new singer Arnel Pineda. I needn’t have been so apprehensive. In forty minutes, they powered through their greatest hits and made everyone very, very happy. ‘Anyway you want it’, ‘Wheel in the sky’ and ‘Don’t stop believing’ were now the anthems of the day. It was possibly the most perfect band to see on the last day, bedraggled and wounded from the sidelines. I have included some of the official videos for you to get a better indication of just how well they performed.

Things took a horrible turn for the worse when Dream Theater played next. I have never before in my life experienced a band that was so awful that they actually made me vomit. Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything. I just couldn’t take it, trapped in the sun with the most horrendous prog rock ever made. It was like living downstairs from Rick Wakeman and half hearing his week long noodling sessions through a pillow that you have protectively wrapped around your head to try and make it all go away. It wouldn’t end. They just kept going, playing, solos, no, couldn’t take it. Horrible, horrible band.

When I ran an indie record store for a while, we used to sell bucketloads of their cd’s. If the place still existed I think I would track down these people who ordered their albums and have a serious talk with them, before beating them around the head with cans of salmon. Why Dream Theater exist is entirely beyond me and they have now taken place I my list of bands that I never want to hear again as long as I live, where they stand proudly alongside the likes of Bob Marley, Pink Floyd and The Beatles. Oh if I never had to hear a song by any of those artists again what a wonderful world it would be.

The pain was eventually relieved and it took me a while to recover, I felt violated. They got me after Journey; I was all happy and vulnerable. Bastards.

To hell with bad prog rock though because there was some proper rock on next, in the hairy bear form of ZZ Top. ZZ Top are like walking cartoons, they are amazing. They seem like such delightful old men too, although this can make it a bit weird when they’re singing about shagging. They are fantastic blues musicians (as anyone who knows their early work will agree) and it was only in the 1980’s that they developed their pop rock formula which catapulted them into megastardom. This was a delight as their shows can be quite rare and so I made sure that I enjoyed and appreciated every moment. ‘Cheap Sunglasses’, ‘Legs’, ‘Gimmie All Your Lovin’ and ‘Sharp Dressed Man’ were just so much damn fun to hear and jump about to. Their departure signalled the end of the fun.

I had been looking forward to Whitesnake. This anticipation was diluted, spilt and evaporated by the end of the second song. Dave Coverdale is like some awful Bruce Forsythe / Butlins Redcoat hybrid, with about as much charm as haemorrhoids. Opening every track with lines such as ‘Here’s another one you’ll like’ and ‘I’ve got another little song for ya’ in his ridiculous lord of the manor voice was really starting to annoy me. The meandering solo’s lasted three or four days. The banter was endless and equally flat and forced. I began to hate Whitesnake after 20 minutes. After an hour I wanted to go home. By the time they got to ‘Is This Love?’ and ‘Here I go Again’ they rocked, but I barely cared.
It was with this, the fatigue, the heat and the entire lack of enthusiasm to see Def Leppard; I went back to my tent where I passed out, only to wake an hour later when they started lighting fires.

It was all a bit scary for a while, every few moments another tent would explode, then some campers began letting off flares which illuminated the sites nicely for the Police helicopters that circled overhead. The air was filled with smoke, the red glow showing the scurrying guards and Police as they stormed through the tents to stop the mounting fires.

It all ended peaceful and we made our escape on Monday morning, managing to rearrange our boat home. This was one of the most welcome eventualities imaginable, well for me, because I wasn’t driving. Many thanks do go to Soup however, you were a legend man and I can’t thank you enough. 25 concerts in three days was hard going, but worth every moment. Any quibbles I may have had were minor ones given the unique and memorable line-up. I saw some bands I loved, some I didn’t know I would even enjoy and a few that were just great to make fun of. I haven’t seen sun since I returned to Ireland and have no intention on leaving the house anytime soon. Well, not until the next good gig comes around, I don’t think that’ll be too far away either.

Biggest douche of the weekend goes to Marilyn Manson for wasting everybody’s time. Oh and for the most disturbing moment of the weekend, when a mother approached me during Manson and, motioning to her daughter, said:

‘You’ll have to put my daughter up on your shoulders so that she can show her tits to the camera’.

Now that was weird.

To read Day One’s Review, Click HERE

For Day Two’s Review, Click HERE

No Lenny Bruce, No George Carlin, No Bill Hicks. No nothing. That’s just the way it is.

When you are staying in a tent, beside an airport runway with a few thousand other people, any sleep gained is a mammoth achievement. I managed a solid eight hours, possibly assisted by my extended front row shenanigans the night before. We did unwind in a very pleasant manner after the shows on Friday, by listening to Classic FM, eating olives and playing chess for a few hours. Now that’s rock and roll kids.

Saturday’s bill was getting underway early, with the first band on at 11am. Being very much there for the music, myself and the illustrious Soup (more legend than human and my wingman for the weekend) hotfooted it down to the arena for some questionable breakfast substances. Whilst trying to enjoy a beer and a pastie on the hill overlooking the main stage, we were subjected to an aural molestation by Tim ‘Ripper’ Owens. It’s amazing how much difference good sound can make to even the most mediocre performance. Unfortunately, in this case, the soundman seemed to have arranged a lie in and sent one of his mates down to do the job instead. It was a case of poor sound making a bad gig sound even worse.

Owens was the replacement singer in Judas Priest after the brief departure of Rob Halford. The atrocious sound, making his vocals ear rupturingly loud in comparison to the instruments, did not heighten the experience for anyone. Clichéd and difficult to listen to, this was far from the ideal start to the day. The combination of the tired songs, poor lyrics and shoddy delivery with the already scorching heat were beginning to make me cranky. Thankfully, the sets were nice and short and so the torture didn’t last long. I don’t think that I can go as far as to recommend Tim ‘Ripper’ Owens to anyone, but he’s trying, bless him, so I’m not going to slate him either.

The sound was strangely perfect again with the introduction of 5 Finger Death Punch, who I had previously never heard of. If the amount of t shirts that I saw over the weekend was anything to go by, then they seem to have quite a following. I’m not really sure what there is to say about them. They were dumb, very dumb indeed, but far from unenjoyable. In fact, they cheered me up loads and managed to get the crowd considerably riled up, not an easy task before noon. I can’t say that any of their songs stayed with me, but I didn’t find any of the disagreeable either. I may even investigate them further someday. In short, nothing special but good fun on a sunny Saturday morning.

Then the action really started. Ex Coal Chamber singer Dez Fafara’s band Devildriver have a long standing reputation as a great live band. This early afternoon appearance certainly justified any such claims. The man has some voice! A perpetual growl which carries across so much better in person than on record, they were a band that demanded immediate attention, and got it. The crowd’s reaction was unbelievable from the offset. The pits grew bigger and bigger until Dez announced that The Guinness Book of Records were present and that they were going to attempt the biggest circle pit ever. This wasn’t an opportunity that a man should pass up on. The wonderful thing that I discovered about circle pits is how nice everyone is in them. They are not as terrifying or as brutal as they look. It’s like a big game of ring a ring a rosies, except with a bit more pushing. See the video below and you get an idea not only of the stupendous nature of this phenomenon, but how damn cool it looks too.

Now we were riled. Devildriver had ignited the day and there was no going back now. The heat would just have to do its worst, because nothing was going to get in the way of a good stomping at this stage. Hatebreed were up next. One of my good friends Shay of Hardcore Times interviewed Hatebreed once and they were cocksuckers to him, so I only watched one song before deciding to go and see Charlie from Busted’s Fightstar instead. This, in retrospect, wasn’t one of the better decisions that I’ve ever made, but I’m no man for regrets. Fightstar had their moments, but they were sparse and not very good ones. Hatebreed were apparently brilliant, so fail one for me.

Phil ‘You treat your stepmother with respect Pantera’ Anselmo’s Down were now playing on the main stage. Their ballsy southern swamp metal was all a bit pious and serious for me to be honest; they are fantastic musicians, but suit a dimly lit dive of a venue far better than a sunny field near Derby. I have several Down albums and really enjoy them, but I wanted something a bit more fun. Anselmo pulled his angry monkey faces and pouted a lot, spat a bit and stamped his feet. I’d had enough.

Fun was certainly had at the second stage as Fightstar had awoken a nest of angry bees, which were now enveloping all of the barriers. Security looked befuddled as they tried to decide whether to put on the next show. Circular swarms blackened the air and everyone was a wee bit worried as they all seemed exceptionally pissed off. But when metal calls, it has to be answered and it takes more than a swarm of bees to stop the mighty Static X. The first thing that blew me away about seeing Static live was Wayne’s voice. It’s exactly like it is on the albums; something I always assumed was the product of mass filtering and effects. On this basic setup, they shined. Tight and pounding like a regrettable incident in college, they blasted out old ‘evil disco’ classics like ‘Push It’, ‘I’m With Stupid’ and ‘Black and White’ amongst some new material which once again, sounded infinitely better live. They had ho’s too! Ho’s with Jager shots. It may not be big and clever, but it was pretty cool. I had missed Static back in the early messy days (mine, not theirs) and so this was a personal highlight of my weekend and needless to say, I was really psyched up for the rest of the day.

Beers were attained and prize vantage points were taken for the musical behemoth that is Dragonforce. My word, I jumped a lot. They have unlimited energy and really just shake the audience by the groin, vigorously and relentlessly while they occupy the stage. It was the most rewarding power metal experience that I have witnessed in my not inconsiderable years spent as a human man. The audience were in shocked adulation and the finale of ‘Through the fire and flames’ rocked like no other current anthem of its kind. If the chance ever arises for you to see Dragonforce, do not cast it away like a discarded tissue; embrace it like a warm blanket on a chilly November night when the electricity has run out. They had the most amazing hair as well, truly beautiful and it trumps Andie McDowell’s. Dragonforce, because they’re worth it.

The day was flying through, it was a strange sensation because we had already seen several cracking shows and the headliners were only getting going. Pendulum were up next. I have both enjoyed and slated Pendulum in the past. I always just associated them with horrible Drum and Bass heads that stay in your house for weeks using up all the amenities and taking liberties whenever possible. I also found their albums to be patchy at best and the trouble with D&B is that it sounds so horribly dated now. I am now retracting my words and shall eat them in my lovely new white panama hat after completion of this piece. Pendulum seem to have mutated into some derivative form of Asian Dub Foundation, Atari Teenage Riot and The Prodigy (Who I missed as they clashed with Slipknot). With a full band adding extra dimensions to their early structure and the addition of a frontman (who is more of a hype man than a performer) have definitely taken the band to new levels. It was a matter of seconds before the place went insane. All weekend there had been moshpits, walls of death and circle pits galore, but this was just violent. Circle pits would spring up out of nowhere and within seconds, you found yourself at the other side of the crowd. Once again, I am so glad of my decision to bring my knee high New Rocks, they provide such sturdiness when required, very handy when you don’t want your ass to end up on the ground under several thousand people’s dirty feet. The rest of their set was fantastic (if exhausting and partially demented) and whilst I still wouldn’t listen to them at home, I’d gladly partake in another hour of such unbridled mayhem.

Fifteen years, that’s how long I’ve waited to see Marilyn Manson. That’s a long damn time. I have also defended him through countless questionable albums and embarrassing predicaments. No more. It’s all over, done, finito. Manson’s performance was a huge disappointment to us all. I’m not going to superfluously pontificate on the setup of the actual show itself, as there isn’t much to describe. It was nice to see Twiggy back, but this was a short-lived pleasantry. Manson flailed around the stage with a stupid grin on his face like some drunken clown. It transpired that it was more cocaine than alcohol to blame, as he told us all about it, at great length and in lieu of playing any songs. Long warbling nonsensical interludes spoiled any momentum that had existed and it wasn’t long before the crowd weren’t even applauding. Manson fluffed almost every song he played, even ‘The Beautiful People’, by which time I was walking away. I tried so hard to enjoy it, but watching this abominated version of something I once held in so much emulation and respect, was a shattering experience. After Faith No More, Manson was who I was most excited about, every song was delivered in superb musical form, but the half arsed, erroneous vocals sullied any clarity or professionalism. Manson would stop or obstruct the musicians from playing, for the sheer hell of it. He would approach the camera every few moments and pull stupid faces, then he would talk about cocaine some more. A massive letdown, a shattered hero and a waste of everybody’s time. Just let it go Manson, you’re finished. You are now the rock star cliché you once struggled against being, just join Motley Crue and stop bothering everyone. Rousing cries of ‘shit’ and numerous boos amplified my own personal feelings.

Slipknot were onstage for approximately thirty seconds before I had forgotten that I ever even liked Manson. Their stage setup was epic; their introduction was subtle but tense. This as the biggest show that they had ever done as headliners. Their ten year anniversary was being marked by this performance. In ways, they seemed as anxious as we were. To the riotous anthem of (SIC), they made the crowd merge into one giant organism, pulsating and thrashing like a dying monster. The next two hours were the most punishing I have ever experienced. As you will see from the live footage, Slipknot deserve the rightful acknowledgement of their ability in a live situation. They are astonishing performers; their visceral energy is unfathomable, their sound immense and their connection with the fans is unprecedented. This is a band that has so much love and appreciation for the people who put them on that stage and they have no qualms about sharing this. Corey Taylor’s voice is strong throughout, his vocals never failing once. The multiple percussionists adding extra clout to each track. DJ Sid was remarkable as were the rest of the group. The act itself was a once in a lifetime experience. The energy that emanated off every single person in that crowd is only partially visible on any recorded footage. . The smells, the heat and the sound were accumulating into driving this monster home and they did just that, in my eyes, nothing could top this. Faith No More and Slipknot had etched their performances into my mind and since returning, I have rewatched both shows several times. Both are currently available online.

I left, dazed, battered and happier than I had been in a long damn time. I slept well that night too, for it wasn’t over yet.

For a review of Day One, click Here

I’m very much still on edge; anxious, excitable and slightly jumpy. I woke up in a tent yesterday morning after my fifth night in the Download campsite. I woke up this morning in my bed, several thousand kilometres away and am somewhat unsettled. We arrived on Wednesday during a torrential storm. Things did not bode well. We travelled from the west of Ireland, through Wales and down towards Donnington Park, soon the rain was so thick that transparent arteries bled across the windscreen, seriously limiting any visibility. After getting lost in Derby (shut up, I know), we arrived at the desired location via a ridiculously narrow walled road near Melbourne.

Car parked, we bundled everything together and began the trek to the campsite. Forty five minutes of walking later, we were saturated, the rain relentless but thankfully not cold. The hill through the green campsite was turning into a river of sludge already. If this was only Wednesday, it was looking like it was going to be one hell of a muddy weekend. I haven’t pitched a tent since I was about thirteen and trying to negotiate one in the dark, in the lashing rain on a rocky hill isn’t the ideal situation for resurrecting such skills. Perseverance and misery prevailed and the tent was erected. Shortly afterwards we felt settled, until the ground began to rumble.

I hadn’t realised how close Donnington is to East Midlands Airport, I had even less of an inclination that our campsite was beside the runway. Every hour or so, everything would appear to forcibly undulate due to the departing aircraft a few metres away. Nothing so trivial could spoil my weekend though; I don’t sleep much at the best of times anyway. This momentary relaxation was shattered when we discovered that the next tent over had several industrial megaphones with them. Even if I fail hear the phrase ‘Buttscratcher’ ever again, it will never leave my brain, damn you.

Then there were the toilets, or lack thereof. I have seen poo in places where it is impossible to put poo without severe determination, effort and a great deal of dexterity. What were you doing with it people? Don’t play with it for the love of God, just get rid of it. There is a point where poo stops becoming funny and just becomes smelly.

This is where all the negative points ended. Thursday morning was so hot that by lunchtime, the mud had all but disappeared. Summer had reappeared with a vengeance. The village by the campsite was pretty well equipped for anything that you may have needed over the weekend, but we had come prepared. The day was spent meandering around doing nothing in particular. Energy was being conserved for Friday when the bands started, in hindsight; this was a very good idea.

The excitement upon pouring into the Arena on Friday morning was electrifying. With 100,000 people congregating with a shared love and passion for the music, this really was something special. There is certain camaraderie and bonhomie that exists amongst metal fans that is horribly absent from almost every other form or genre. There was no point where I felt out of place or experienced any form of elitism whatsoever. This was so refreshing and made conversing with total strangers easy, the general feeling of goodwill remained prominent throughout.

With the first band, came the first mistake. Someone had told me to go and see Steadlur, that they were worth watching. They were wrong. Whilst there was nothing inherently bad about what they did, it just held no appeal to me. Their pub rock stylings are those which I have already witnessed dozens of times before and it was only a few songs in before I got bored enough to wander off and catch the last few minutes of Hollywood Undead, who I wished I had gone to see. Still, that was a minor regret. They are a new band and I’m positive I will catch them again.

There were very few major clashes on the Friday, Motley Crue clashed with Faith No More, but given the Crue’s rigorous touring ethics, it was no contest really. One guy was wearing a great shirt with both of the band’s logos in it with the caption ‘You want it all but you can’t have it’ which I think summed it up well.

A Day to Remember were next up on the second stage, this is a band that I was really excited about seeing. The Florida based pop metal act are reaching higher ground each year and this live show did a lot to support this development. Their entrance to ‘2001’ which broke into ‘Downfall of us all’ was so energetic and forceful that it was the definite beginning of the festival for me. They are a band who are so close to perfecting what they do. This made it such a pleasure to watch. The response was immense and they were visibly appreciative. Their traditional metal and punk moments contrast surprisingly well with the sing a long chorus format that was so indicative of Nu Metal. They are a band who are well worth looking out for, and their accessibility and general appeal is something to be savoured and not scorned.

Now I mention it, it was all a bit of a Nu Metal resurgence for me, the bill was littered with acts whose glory days were very much in the late 90’s and early 00’s, it was going to be interesting to see how they performed over the weekend. Resurgence or not, nothing was going to get me to go and see Staind, who were on next, and so I went to the bar instead. Now happily relaxing on the bank overlooking the main stage, I watched Billy Talent from afar. It’s good that bands like Billy Talent are included on the bill, because it gives the attendee time to explore the food courts, merchandise stands, use the bathroom and anything else that is far away from the musicians as possible. I spent about fifteen minutes trying to figure out what the point of this band were before I realised that my feelings were not exceptional in any way. Their response was lukewarm, leading their lead singer to threaten the audience by saying ‘Any of you who are booing us, I’ll come down there and cut your face’. Not the best way to win new fans really; I wouldn’t expect to see them back next year. They are Canadian, which resulted in lots of Terrence and Philip quotes being thrown about, which pleased me greatly. Especially when the singer referred to the crowd as friends and one wag responded ‘I’m not you’re friend, buddy’ in a remarkable T&P impersonation. Ah, referential pop culture humour, it’s what binds us all.

One act who I had never really gotten into was Killswitch Engage, although for some reason, I had an idea that they would be worth seeing live, so I made my way closer to the front. I didn’t realise that the front would take me for the next six hours or so.

Either I missed something when I was listening to Killswitch before, or they are primarily a live act, because I was truly blown away by them. They were such a remarkably tight band, achieving a spectacular overall sound and presence the entire time. Their crowd control was something else, during ‘Rose of Sharyn’ they set up one of the biggest ‘Walls of Death’ that I have ever seen. They also do a fabulous rendition of Dio’s ‘Holy Diver’.

It was very decent of the festival to allow live streaming of almost every act. Especially now that I am back at a pc and can nab them all for prosperity! Mwaa ha ha.

Killswitch were a bit exhausting, but there was only about twenty minutes to recover before Limp Bizkit started on the main stage. I’ll get this out of the way now, I used to like Limp Bizkit, well, the first two albums anyway (Chocolate Starfish was woeful), so I was pretty eager to see them. This was perhaps also due to the return of original guitarist and delightfully eccentric Wes Borland. With a scratch filled intro by Ex House of Pain man DJ Lethal, it was moments before it struck me why Limp Bizkit were such a success. Why? Because they are amazing showmen, that’s why. They put everything into their concert, with Fred Durst seemingly leaving his ego back in the ‘Rolling’ era. He was consistently gracious and humbled to have returned to such a reaction, even thanking Korn at one point for all they had done for them. The crowd happily thrashed about to the likes of ‘Break Stuff’, ‘Faith’ and ‘Show Me What You Got’ and it occurred to me that some bands don’t need poignant lyrics and highly developed concepts. Certain things are just fun to leap around in the sun to, amongst thousands of people who are enjoying it just as much as you are.

It would be easy to be snide, to be facetious about Limp Bizkit but what would the point be? What I saw was a very well prepared band, delivering a brilliantly developed performance to a grateful and thrilled audience. If that’s cause for backhandedness, then I’ll gladly pass, thank you. It may be childish, but it was the perfect hour of escapism and I’d happily see them again if the opportunity presented itself.

By the time they had finished, I found myself (via a few circle pits) in the front centre stage area of the audience. Faith No More were only one act away. I decided to retain my position at the front throughout Korn. That wouldn’t be too hard, would it?

Ouch.

Korn was a gig that took effort to remain in any one position for too long. With a setlist comprising of mostly recent material, it was a conflictive show. The sound was superb (as it was all round with one notable exception) and Fieldy is a G. David Silvera and Head are missed though, having been replaced with two musicians who are obviously not far enough through the hazing process to appear on the band’s tour t shirts yet (Cold, guys, really cold), but they did their best to replicate a sound that is unfortunately, quite inimitable. If this absence of magnetism (Davis practically ignores all the band members for the entirety of the show), the obscurely picked setlist, or Davis himself were the main factor in the lack of connection, I am not entirely sure. Like I say, it’s hard to explain, the crowd loved it, everybody had a great time, but you never once got a feeling that Korn were enjoying themselves. It was everything that you would expect from a Korn show, but maybe that was the problem. It’s a possibility that Korn have now become so uniformed in their live acts that they have mutated into a ‘by the numbers’ rock band such as The Eagles. That would however make them The Eagles of Nu metal, so I might have to revisit that analogy later. It was my first time seeing them live and I wasn’t in anyway disappointed, but I didn’t feel the love.

Still, I didn’t give a fiddlers flute what Jon Davis and Co made of it all because Faith No More were on next, they being the main reason that I was at the festival in the first place.

I had retained my place; I was standing at the front of almost 100,000 people about to see one of my favourite bands of all time, who I never thought I would get to see. Where the hell do I start?

The luscious red curtains towered over the stage and any behind the scenes activity caused a roar of applause. The anticipation and excitement grew continually as the time approached. The sun finally eased off slightly, allowing for a very welcome breeze across the front row. The sealed area filled with press and photographers, the majority of them looking bored and miserable. Why do music journalists often seem to be this way? Have years of writing hundreds of standardised chin stroking articles depleted their serotonin? Probably not, that’ll be the cocaine. After observing this lethargic bunch of ingrates for a while, it was time and for the next two hours, I focused on nothing but what lay a few feet away from me.

Emerging to a gloriously acerbic cover of Peaches & Herb’s ‘Reunited’; they had us all at ‘Hello’. Faith No More have always been a band who excels on the festival circuit. Footage of them at 1997’s Bizarre Festival in Germany remains one of their greatest unofficial live concerts. With each band member beaming at every given opportunity, great things were promised in the opening moments. Mike Patton wobbled shakily onstage with the help of a white cane, emerging in a full red suit which brought Willy Wonka to mind, reappearing outside his chocolate factory gates after years of ambiguity and mystery. Patton’s projects outside FNM have always been fantastic, but they never received the adulation of his original breakthrough band (yes I know he was in Mr Bungle first). This is where he belongs, in front of tens of thousands of people, all of them baying for him.

Twenty three songs were played (twenty four if you include the cover of Lady Ga Ga’s ‘Poker Face’ on the introduction to ‘Chinese Arithmetic’), each version trumping any studio rendition that I have heard to date. Patton’s banter was sublime, he also proved himself to be the epitome of debonair. His grace and vocal dexterity are second to none, adding both impromptu and intensively laboured oral diversity, sometimes mid song. The strength of his vocals is matched by the relentless talent of the rest of the band. Billy Gould, Mike Bordin, Roddy Bottum and Jon Hudson were amazing to watch, and just as spellbinding as Patton.

There are few artists who work together quite so well and it’s a thrill and delight to have them back. They can deliver everything and broaden your musical horizons without you even knowing it. The set was everything that I could have wanted; I have included some clips so that you can see for yourself. The feeling that they commanded was nothing short of magical, it was truly one of the most memorable shows that I have ever seen. I urge you to take the time to watch some of these exerts because they really are worth it.

Before I knew it, they had finished and the gargantuan crowd began to disperse. I left somewhat dazed, slightly battered and feeling so grateful that I had been there to witness it. I abstained from any subsequent tomfoolery because I knew that an equally gruelling day lay ahead of me tomorrow, if it was going to be anything like what I had just witnessed, I was going to need some sleep.

Faith No More Setlist Download Festival 2009:
1. Reunited
2. The Real Thing
3. From Out of Nowhere
4. Land of Sunshine
5. Caffeine
6. Evidence
7. Poker Face / Chinese Arithmetic
8. Surprise! You’re Dead!
9. Easy
10. Last Cup of Sorrow
11. Midlife Crisis
12. Introduce Yourself
13. The Gentle Art of Making Enemies
14. Take This Bottle
15. Ashes to Ashes
16. Malpractice
17. Cuckoo for Caca
18. Be Aggressive
19. Epic
20. Mark Bowen
21. Encore:
21. Chariots Of Fire/
22. Stripsearch
23. We Care a Lot

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