Sonisphere: Weekend - Sonisphere
Live Review

Sonisphere: Weekend – Sonisphere, Knebworth

We have had the three day reviews for Sonisphere go online already – this full festival tirade offers an alternative peek at the same days, whilst mentioning some of the other acts on at the festival. It is also going to give you a peek into the world of the photographer and what we get up to onsite.

Sonisphere loomed and our initial three man team (to be joined on the Sunday by a fourth) packed up a car with all we would need to survive and live in as great a comfort as possible for the following 3 nights of camping. Our team consisted of reviewers and me as the only Band photographer (and reviewer if you count this piece).

The drive to knebworth we expected to take a couple of hours as it had taken the previous year on the Thursday. My hopes were high as this time round, Team Glasswerk had left even earlier in order to get a decent spot in the VI/Guest media camp site. If I have one major grumble about Sonisphere it is that the media are thrown in with the crowd who like to stay up and party all night long and trip and piss on your tents. It would be nice, like year one, to get camped in our own little section which may allow for a few hours of sleep after a busy day of running back and forth between stages.

Anyway we get to within a mile of the campsite and suddenly the traffic stops! There is a queue to get on site and for the next two hours it moves slowly. So even if you are a rock royalty or VIP guest – beware of delays even early on the Thursday! But once we are in we run off to the media accreditation tent and puck up our special wristbands and parking permissions. We get the tents up, the BBQ on and then decide to test the arena out on this first night. The layout if largely the same as last year, so I shall move swiftly on.

Friday

You don’t so much set a tone for a festival, so much as raise the bar when your opening evening consists of The Big 4. But before we get to that Diamond Head are going to open the Apollo stage. It’s a diverting precursor to the four acts that follow. Anthrax are the first of the four to take the stage. Anthrax get credit for being one of the few returnee bands to Sonisphere, Knebworth. In fact they have been to all three.

Bassist, Frank Bello, just refuses to calm down. For the third year running he races up and down the stage, thrusting his perverted tongue out to an excited audience. And when he isn’t doing that he’s smoking imaginary spliffs. His enthusiasm for being on stage is quite remarkable, but then it isn’t like any of the rest of the band like to hold still for too long. It’s a photographers dream when a band is striking poses along the from rim of the stage at the start of their set. Especially seeing as media photographers only get to stand at the front for the first few songs max.

Joey Belladonna is not my favourite frontman for the band (hello John Bush), but he brings his own weight to proceedings. His prime years are behind him, but he is well established enough for long term fans to enjoy his presence as they hammer through their 45 minute set.

Next up are Megadeth who I only catch the first few songs for. Mustain I think is happy, but it’s hard to tell through his largely static stance, long curly light perm and pouty lips. I take the opportunity after shooting Megadeth to head over to the Bohemia tent to check out Firewind who are knocking their 1/3 capacity crowd dead. A real shame The Big 4 are stealing some of their rapturous thunder.

I head back to the Apollo to shoot Slayer who go up in my estimation from last year’s performance. As a non-fan I am converted over in their opening takes, truly separating the men from the boys. They are perhaps the heaviest of the four bands.

Metallica come and play a set that easily equals that which they played here two years ago. So good in fact that I suspect the remainder of this weekend ahead is going to be hard to keep up to standard. I wander the rest of the site while Metallica are in the middle of their set to discover just how empty everything looks. Metallica have the attention of almost every living soul on site. The bands that follow from here onwards have an uphill battle to fight.

And that’s probably why I’m surprised that when I go to check out Killing Joke’s late night performance at Bohemia, I’m completely blown away. And consider that their opening is screwed up for one reason or another due to technical difficulties – The techies restart the opening track (taken from the Vangelis soundtrack to Blade Runner’s opening). Jaz Coleman enters the stage with his painted white face and in a boiler suit ready to send this tent into frenzy. They played the Apollo Stage two years ago for an early slot; It was good, but something was missing. This time round they have a much better atmosphere and an appreciative crowd.

Hayseed Dixie get their hillbilly best on afterwards. And while they are a giggle, I bow out in favour of an early night.

Saturday

It was a wise decision to stay off the sauce and hit the sack early on Friday. Saturday is going to involve a lot of running around. It is worth mentioning that as a photographer you have to meet at the media house a good 20 minutes before the band are due onstage. You are then all escorted down to the stage in questions and sent into the photo pit for a maximum of three songs. After this you exit either into the crowd, or back on the road to the media house. If you chose to go into the crowd you will have perhaps 15 minutes to relax and watch a few tracks until you are due to meet up again back at Media HQ in order to be escorted down to the next act opening at the opposite stage. So while there is time to watch some music, you can’t really soak much up or even watch a full set if you are bouncing back and forth between the Apollo and Saturn stages.

Back to the music: I was recommended Sylosis from a previous year so I head out to make sure I catch their early slot at the Apollo. It’s a good start to the day, but Saturday will be a day full of ups and downs, rain and shine and on site contradictions. Architects follow on the Apollo stage and do their best to amp it up further. Now, myself and a dozen other photographers are taking shots of the band. After two songs I decide I have enough and exit early; only to be confronted by the PR girl who escorted us down. With a worried expression they ask “Did you get hit in the head too?” To my confusion I shake my head and simply let them know that I was done shooting and am just leaving for the sake of it. I wander off slightly confused. Later on I find out that one of my petite female colleagues took a direct blow to the head from an incoming projectile. Turns out it was a plastic bottle, full of liquid, chucked in from a far too over-zealous fan.

Bottle wars are a common thing between the fans, but something this deadly just sucked out all the fun from everyone’s day. There was indeed blood, and from what I’m told – stitches as well. It’s a real shame some idiot thought it would be a fun idea despite the Sonisphere hosts asking very kindly that we all look after each other out there whilst enjoying the weekend.

I then check Gallows who really put energy into their mad ass set, and I count my blessings when an empty squeezed beer can fly past my face missing me by a mere inch or two.

The site is really starting to fill out at this point, so it’s worth checking out a few bits and bobs around and in between the music. Quite why the Red Bull post (the drinks post, not the tent!) would want to blast out trashy hip-hop at a rock weekend is anyone’s guess. The last drinks themed post that did that here (The Strongbow Tent played nothing but hardcore danced music last year late at night) seemed to have dropped off the sponsors list and vanished. Never a wise move to break with the trend.

Comedy doesn’t seem to be doing much for my taste today, but it is nice to see a well humoured Steve-O try his hand at stand-up. Much of his material you can hear on the latest Jackass DVD extras, but it’s still good. There is a sense though that he is still finding his feet at the whole stand up. When he is talking about his own personal experiences it’s just fine as he has much to draw from, but whenever he is making other jokes you get the sneaky suspicion that they were written for him (much less natural).

Weezer are really not my cup of tea, and I’m forced away when they play those well known “hits” that just serve to remind me why I’m not a fan. It also serves to remind me of last year’s festival which seemed to have bands on the set list that were not what you would consider “Rock” and not even remotely “Metal.” This year’s entire line up is equally diluted.

The Mars Volta are also not metal, Much more Funky Jazz on acid. Personally the change of pace and unapologetic nature of the band are a breath of fresh air. Lead singer Cedric Bixler-Zavala is living on another planet and is dancing, doing tricks with his mic and singing in a high pitch you would easily mistaken his gender. But he’s headed for trouble when he decides to exit and then reappear on stage with a metal railing when at one point he promptly throws at one of the large TV cameras! An unimpressed techy has to fix the issue, but Zavala is already on the tracks the Cameras travel on. He insists on taking a ride on the other camera, then he rips a hole in the side of the stage, tearing the banner of the stage and then climbing inside it.

Thankfully for the organisers he climbs back on stage and continues with their set. It’s the most bizarre behaviour we shall see on stage, and yet even when I finish watching the rest of their set the only thing I’m annoyed about is the fact that they didn’t play their single Viscera Eyes from their Amputechture album (which would have fit the festival much more comfortably. My colleague and I have our biggest disagreement of the weekend on Weezer and The Mars Volta as we have a clear divide. But then how boring would it be if we all liked the same stuff. I skip Biffy Clyro in order to be ready to shoot Paradise Lost who are one of the first late night acts on at Bohemia.

Paradise Lost makes a strong impact. So excited that I’m now fully ready for Sisters of Mercy who are next. There are sadly delays, and it’s cold. And photographers are divided into two groups as they are simply too many of us to all fit in the pit. But When I finally get in there around the 4rd song I am distraught to see that the stage is full of smoke. So full that the band is barely visible, never mind Andrew Eldrich! It’s the worst shoot I’ve ever conducted in my life and a real kick to the groin when you have been savouring this moment since the band were announced to play!

But it gets worse. I go direct from the pit to the crowd after to listen – and although the guitarist and bassist are there, and Eldrich in his white hoody is singing away; I’m a bit thrown off by the guy at the back playing everything else through electronic playback. It’s a real kick that there are so few musicians and what you are hearing is almost like a pre-record. Eldrich may as well have dumped the other two guys as well and just done a karaoke act to his own music. A real crushing disappointment; if I was ever going to be in tears for the wrong reasons this weekend, then this is the moment.

I head to the VIP tent to join my reviewer colleagues who are a far too excited, drunk and pleased to be here. They say alcohol doesn’t solve any of life’s problems. Tonight it did. All memory of what I just experienced is soon gone. It’s back to the tent around 3am.

Sunday

9am and I’ve slept for 5-6 hours. Which isn’t too bad. But in a blazing hot tent you really know it’s going to be a slow start to the weekend. You just want to vent in some air, drop a couple of painkillers with some water and slowly work your way back to reality with an extra couple of hours kip. That dream is suddenly ripped from me, like a child having their only and favourite toy ripped from their pram in one violent and cold blooded jerk when my phone rings and it’s our expected fourth team member arrived onsite at this ungodly hour. He’s having a spot of trouble picking up his accreditation at the closed accreditation office onsite.

After sorting this out as swiftly as possible and then welcoming our fresh faced Sunday reviewer to the party – we promptly pack up the tents ready to make a speedy escape that evening back home to the comfort of our own beds (oh boy was that the best decision we made all weekend).

We catch the end of Arch Enemy who are fronted by what sounds like Linda Blair in character from The Exorcist. A spot of lunch and water to help us readjust later and I head off to shoot In Flames.

There is a delay though as the site insist on having 2 minutes of silence for Slipknot’s Paul Gray. An entire crowd goes quite for the duration and we all have a personal moment for the artist. To steal words from the band’s frontman himself – this is a celebration however, and the music continues directly afterwards with In Flames who are actually pretty good. The low expectations probably helped, but I’m generally feeling a bit better towards the acts on stage. Mastadon then promptly spoil all that by being very mediocre.

Suspecting that today is bit of a yo-yo I head to the Bohemia tent for some comedy but it ain’t much cop. Not in the form of Jason John Whitehead anyway. Comedy host Andrew O’Neill doesn’t do much else for me and uses the word “Sweet” far too much. Comedy is a real downer when it doesn’t work.

Then it’s up again when Airbourne hit the stage. Well they don’t just hit the stage. They trample, pound and even climb it. Yes it’s become a bit of a thing for this band to have their front man climb the scaffolds to the very top and kick out a few chords. It is impressive but I just hope he doesn’t keep doing it when they are all the same age as The Big 4.

Motorhead arrive, and while it’s nice to see them, to see them nice; it’s all a bit repetitive. Also a bit of a disappointment photography wise as they are a bit shy of the front of the stage. I head to Bohemia to check what is on and scream in terror when confronted by the emo-ness that ids Anberlin.

I skip Opeth in favour of food and that all important trip to the loo! But I make sure I don’t miss Limp Bizkit. Now I owe Fred Durst and his band an apology as when they were here last in 2009 I dismissed them in favour of something else. Probably drink or that all important trip to the loo. Durst and co put on a good show and get highly interactive with the crowd. I’m at least happy they manage to play “My Way” before I have to go get ready to shoot Bill Bailey.

As Slipknot have a shortened list of photographers for their set (which I don’t make), Bill Bailey is therefore the last act I will take shots of. Bailey appears in comedic diva fashion, sporting a prosthetic Bill Bailey mask to fool the crowd with. He whips it off to reveal his real Chevvy Chase and then proceeds to play a set of comedic, kitsch songs and covers with a few anti-establishment jokes in between. He has a huge crowd, but sorry dude, just cause you are one of the few nerdy, long haired, rock fans on TV doesn’t mean you can play it well and have my seal of approval. I lose interest fast and so decide to torture myself with more emo from Four Year Strong. This is mainly to hide from rain of course, but the teen savage band are so excruciating I decide to risk catching the flu by heading back out to catch the end of Bailey.

I’m not a fan of Slipknot, but it is easy to see when a band is putting on a grand show. They deliver to their crowd; which at this stage is everyone not in the Bohemia tent. They are all kitted out in their red outfits with distinctive masks on and proceed to own the night.

Suitably happy that I have seen them and that they are added to my “great when you see them live” list we head our as directly as we can. We are all in pain from the walking, from the wet, from the alcohol, from the bad diet. It’s home time to our own beds. We are all happy overall with the experience and all super excited as to what bands will be announced for next year. But our minds are also slowly fading, and within 30 minutes of entering my flat I am unconscious to the world.

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