Festival Spotlight on-Rock En Seine, Domaine National de Saint-Cloud, Paris
Well, they managed it-foreign festivals are now as much a part of the staple English summer as barbeque rain and sunburn. With Exit and Benicassim leading the way as recession-proof getaways, Britain’s increasingly crowded festival market faces real competition from it’s cheaper, more relaxed counterparts in and around Europe.
One place that is rarely considered as a festival destination however, is France. Be it down to the traditional detestation between our two nations or a lack of UK-based marketing, rarely does anyone consider our closest neighbour as a destination for what is fast becoming the summer break of the noughties-the festival. And yet why not? France holds some of the best summer music events outside England. Take a moment to consider the Festival des Vieilles Charrues in Brittany. As the largest non-corporate funded event in Europe, the festival regularly attracts huge-name bands and more punters than Glastonbury. This year alone saw Bruce Springsteen, TV on the Radio, Moby and The Killers-not bad for an event that sells it’s own locally-sourced cider without the help of Virgin or O2.
Another little-known Gallic gem is Rock en Seine in Paris. Relatively petite at 30,000 people, the festival is set in a small, shady park on the outskirts of Paris, easily accessible by the Metro. It’s not as cheap as it has been in years gone by and the facilities seem more than a little overwhelmed by an increase in attendees this year. But thanks to a line-up of tried and tested acts and an eagerness amongst the crowd to actually appreciate the music, it might just be the perfect pocket-sized festival.
A horrifically cringeworthy Just Jack (My heart melts like ice cream cones/ Grinning like a dog digging up dinosaur bones) manages to kick off the celebrations to a raucous reception, much to our amazement. This becomes a recurring theme throughout the weekend, because, as we soon learn, the French’s attitude to music is entirely different to ours. Whereas in England, especially London, we enter gigs with a pre-determined attitude and nine times out of ten, rip the act apart mentally before they’ve even finished, the French seem to inhale the music, accepting it at face value for what it is and appreciating all it’s defining aspects-this is especially true when it comes to English artists. In fact every young girl in sight has identikit Natasha Khan make-up and Rough Trade cotton bags. ‘J’adore London…Topshop et Brick Lane, oui?!’ gasps one girl, who’s actually moving to Manchester just to be in the town that was birthplace to The Smiths. It’s like England in 2005, before indie died it’s horrible, messy death and pretention struck gold; and it’s nothing short of heart-warming.
The Yeah Yeah Yeahs devastate the crowd in a shower of glitter and disco, followed by a Vampire Weekend whose overplayed songs are revived by the keen attitude of the audience. Relatively new talents The Asteroids Galaxy Tour and Ebony Bones wow the crowds with their eccentric outfits and super-upbeat sets. Even lad-fave Calvin Harris adds a nice touch with hit single ‘I’m Not Alone’ sounding less Wigan on a Saturday night and more mid-90’s Ibiza.
But it is amongst the vintage bands that this year’s charm lies. Madness deliver a convincing set, making a strong case that Jerry Dammers’ refusal to rejoin the band has been of little hindrance. The Offspring (aahh!), now undeniably middle aged and soft round the middle, bring teenage years rushing back in a punk fuelled mosh-fest and Macy Gray, who’s set everyone attends as a laugh, turns a hung-over Sunday afternoon into an all out love-fest with strangers embracing each other and swaying together under the hot sun.
Without a doubt, the winners of best act (maybe ever?) are unquestionably The Prodigy. We have been assured that in real life Keith is nothing but a perfect gentleman. But, bathed in red light, boasting the body of a twenty-something Marine, adorned with spikes and tattoos, screaming the lyrics to ‘Breathe’, he resembles the leader of a lost tribe from a 90’s horror film; and it’s bloody terrifying.
One of the only low points proves to be surprise guests Them Crooked Vultures; the ultimate super-band comprised of Josh Homme, Dave Grohl and John Paul Jones. For such a prestigious line-up their songs never quite seem to escape sounding like Foo-Fighters B-sides. MGMT also disappoint, seeming almost embarrassed to play their hits, and only perking up during their new songs which seem a million miles away from their otherworldly beginnings.
Rock en Seine is the festival this summer that made international headlines as the place where the Oasis split occurred-twenty minutes before show time, with 30,000 eager ticket holders waiting. Many of the overly-excited French had driven cross country to see the ‘great British rock band,’ and regardless of whether we care or not here in the UK, the Gallagher brothers bitterly upset many people, simply by refusing to play one set to the people that paid to put them there in the first place. It’s an ugly lesson in what burnt out egos can become.
Sadly, due to cheap tickets and easy access, Rock en Seine is slowly getting more commercial and subsequently seeing more English. Our advice? Head over next year before the rosbif’s really get on board and the Eurostar fills with matching t-shirts and cowboy hats. It’s worth it; this fun-size festival really is a proper find.
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