Ligger, punter or player, there are some things you just got to know about Oxegen, Ireland's premier open-air muso fest. So, for those about to rock, Kevin Courtney salutes you
It's been dubbed Ireland's Glastonbury but, let's face it, no outdoor rock festival could match Glasto for mudlarking merriment, toilet trauma, motorway mayhem and rock 'n' roll revisionism. Trench foot, four-hour traffic tailbacks, tents floating away on rivers of sludge, toilet paper more sought-after than LSD, Paul McCartney rewriting the history of The Beatles - Oxegen 2004 can only dream of reaching such exalted heights of insania. The worst we'll have to contend with will probably be the sight of Justin Hawkins splitting his spandex tights as he does another ill-advised scissor kick.
There is good news, though. The Saw Doctors have been added to the bill at Oxegen, Ireland's big outdoor rock fest in Punchestown next weekend. Up till this welcome announcement, the line-up looked pretty uninspiring: five supercool young punks from New York who, apparently, have changed the face of rock; a dance outfit who think God is a DJ and whose leader is related to Dido; a hair-metal quartet who believe in a thing called love; and a crusty old Love Cat who still can't put his lipstick on properly. Not quite Supertramp at Reading, is it? But now, with the addition of the Tuam tornadoes, Oxegen is suddenly looking very inviting indeed. I can well remember those Feile festivals in Thurles during the early 1990s, when our favourite sham rockers performed Hay Wrap for the devoted crowds, as the smell of silage wafted over Semple Stadium. Ah, them were the days. The ever-resourceful lads even managed to procure some bales of hay (from where, I do not know), which they tossed around on stage, much to the delight of the fans. Will Oxegen witness this kind of big-budget special-effects magic? I seriously doubt it.
Of course, we know very well that Oxegen is really Witnness in all but name. It's in the same location (Punchestown), it's on at the same time of the year (second weekend in July), and it's run by the same promoters (those fine people at MCD). This year, however, the sponsors have changed. Out go Guinness (who put the extra 'n' in Witnness, and who have sponsored the event since it began in 2000) and in come, well, nobody actually. According to Justin Green of MCD, Oxegen is going ahead without a titled sponsor, but with two media partners, Today FM and The Ticket. Punters are still adjusting to the name change - which is why you hear so many people referring to it as "Wuh-oxegen".
Veterans of this annual knees-up remember when it used to be at Fairyhouse Racecourse in Co Meath and not in Punchestown, Co Kildare. Some of us miss the old venue, whose grounds seemed more conducive to the creation of mud than the current location, which, judging by last year, is more of a dustbowl than a mudbath. We fondly remember the vast mud-lake in front of the T-shirt stand, the vendors looking very frightened at the prospect of flying mudballs ruining the merchandise. Personally, I'd pay for a Travis T-shirt with a nice, indelible mudstain where Fran Healy's face used to be.
Having attended all four Witnnesses, first as a journalist and then as an artist, I've seen the festival from both sides of the velvet rope. Rock journos get to wear a nice, shiny "lammo" around their necks, signifying that we're more important than your average punter with merely a dog-eared ticket and a wristband. We get to hang out in our own hospitality area, with a full bar and a food counter. We get to rub shoulders with Lorraine Keane, Dave Fanning and Donal Dineen. In fact, many liggers don't even bother heading outside to see any actual bands, fearful that their VIP status will be diluted by mixing it with the hoi polloi.
Although it's great to pose in the media tent thinking that you're Ray D'Arcy, it doesn't beat posing in the artists' enclosure thinking that you're Paddy Casey. In 2002, I blagged a slot on the line-up for my Madchester tribute band, then known as Hacienda That. As we arrived up in our splitter bus, the punters peered in the windows to see if we were somebody famous. Our artists' lammos were bigger and shinier, and Justin Green was even nicer to us than before. We ate in a big dining-room with waiter service, and we were chauffeured to our backstage area, which was stocked up with free beer and minerals. We even got towels. Last year, returning under our new name, The Madchester Experience, we were served pints of Guinness by Huey from the Fun Lovin' Criminals. It doesn't get much better than that, now, does it?
This year, we're back in Punchestown, performing on the Spirit Stage on Sunday afternoon. I know we'll be top of your list of bands to see but, in the interests of fair play, I recommend you check out a few other bands while you're there. I'm looking forward to hanging out with The Strokes, who play the main stage on Saturday, preceded by Kings Of Leon (the redneck Strokes). Earlier in the day, the ever-brilliant, ever-sexy PJ Harvey will rock harder than the guys, while Franz Ferdinand will prove that even effete, arty types from Glasgow can rock like m*****f*****s. Sadly, Sunday's headliner, David Bowie, has cancelled his entire European tour due to a trapped nerve in his shoulder, so we won't see the superannuated Starman making love with his ego. Happily, Queen tribute band The Darkness still have permission to land in Punchestown, although any chance of Justin and Bowie doing a duet of Under Pressure is now out the airlock.
This year sees the inaugural outing of the Ticket stage, sponsored by the super, soaraway Friday supplement you're eating your chips off right now. The Ticket stage will not, I assure you, feature Ticket writers attempting to sing (that's on another stage), but will showcase such credible critics' favourites as Massive Attack, NERD, Snow Patrol, The Rapture, The Libertines, Wu Tang Clan and Future Kings Of Spain. And also Paddy Casey.
On the Spirit Dance Stage, Chemical Brothers will do their superstar DJ thing on Saturday night, although, watching their Glastonbury set on TV, it was difficult to tell their live sound apart from their records. On Sunday, Basement Jaxx will bring the Notting Hill Carnival directly to the dance stage, but the name on everyone's slipmats this year is Felix Da Housecat, who is fast morphing into a feline Fatboy Slim.
The Green Room is ripe with abundant alternative rock talent, although we hope the stage will be big enough for Belle & Sebastian's musical mates, which include Snow Patrol, and Elbow's extended line-up, and which can often include the entire audience. Doubtful, though, if either band will beat last year's champions, The Polyphonic Spree and Flaming Lips, in the onstage overcrowding stakes.
While it's always nice and nostalgic to see old friends such as Bowie, The Cure and Jimmy Cliff, it's also good to open your ears to something fresh, and the New Band Stage may provide the catch of the day from both sides of the Atlantic. Newcomers include The Killers, Hope Of The States, Razorlite, the Dead 60s, Dogs Die In Hot Cars, The Shins and The Delays. Irish acts worth a look at over the weekend include Republic Of Loose, The Waiting Room, Autamata, Cathy Davey, Future Kings Of Spain, Tychonaut (formerly Tycho Brahe), Bell X1 and Simple Kid.
And finally, if you can get through the entire weekend without seeing a) Glen Hansard getting up on stage with someone, b) Pink flashing her boobs, c) Robert Stevenson handing out Revs flyers, d) Liam O'Maonlai's feet or e) Justin Hawkins's crotch, then you mustn't have gone to Oxegen at all, at all.
