Sunday, July 10, 2005


Saturday's review
Causing some consternation for the BBC Three team this evening is the ban on showing any footage of Green Day: the band are about to release a DVD of their Milton Keynes gig, and are afraid that a couple of songs on the digital wing of the BBC will harm sales. Really, Billie-Jo? How identical are all your gigs and tracks, then, if showing a small sample of a festival date in Scotland will kill your fans' ardour for a full hit of your stuff? After all, the only real use for a Green Day DVD is freeze-framing on a bit when you can see Billie but not his awful tattoos.

If Bill needs any proof of how body modifications, like Rovers, don't age gracefully, he only had to hop over to see The Prodigy's set (a set which concentrated, as far as we could see, on the older album which people bought): Keith Flint now looks like a character in one of those comedy sketches where they dress up little old men as punks. He never looked quite as scary as he seemed to think, but now he looks cute.

Talking of older gentlemen, Ian Brown was having a bit of a stinker, coming across flat as Tory Party Leadership conference. We're not sure if he blamed the monitors, but he's just thrown a little hissy, kicking all of them off the stage. He approached the speaker stacks, but a bigger security guard interposed himself between Brown and the equipment, and Brown seemed to take his advice to (we're no lipreaders, but...) "fucking leave it alone now".

Earlier in the day, the Kaiser Chiefs completed the BBC Trielia of Glastonbury, Live8 and T. Did Ricky have a nosestud at the start of this excitement? Continuing to give the air of a slightly less exciting festival than its Somerset cousin, rather than give the audience a giant inflatable gift, this time Ricky went into the crowd and relieved them of a blow-up lobster. The BBC chose to cut off Oh My God just as it was reaching its crescendo, too.

Travis, to be fair to them, do their thing rather well. If you like Travis, you'd go away happy enough - Tennants will also be happy, with copious drinking of the sponsor's product.

KT Tunstall has come on stage wearing a not-actual-kilt with her initials on it; she looks like she should be on a packet of Porridge Oats (albeit one intended for sale south of the border where we believe that's what Scottish people dress like every day). And, watching her set - which she makes look like such bloody hard work - the porridgeness of her music becomes quite apparent too: there seems to be a lot of preparation, and a lot of slogging to get to the end; it feels as if it must be doing you some good; but although there's something comforting and familiar about it, it's all rather flavourless.

In an interview segment, Ian McCulloch babbles on about advertising for no apparent reason and scares Edith, who blurts out "It could be you!" To be fair, Ian does seem as if he could do with a bit of a hint about who that might actually be.

Snoop Dogg is wearing a jewel-encrusted gun around his neck, the big twat. Last week he was on stage calling on Bush to stop pointless death; this week it's back to business as usual, glorifying the same.

We think this might be the first time we've ever seen Razorlight on TV for more than two minutes and not seen Johnny Borrell/Rod Liddle's nipples; it's slightly disappointing. But not as disappointing as Black Strobe. We know it's difficult to make djing seem interesting on TV, as usually it's just a bloke wobbling some 12 inch singles about on a turntable, but Strobe didn't even offer that - they appeared to be playing New Order's Blue Monday with little more embellishment than an occassional adjustment of the levels by a bloke in a vest.

More televisual was Interpol's set, a massive triumph compared with their Glasto appearance: they were in a tent, in the dark, in moody lighting and came on like mysterious storm forces intent on having their way with you and your mother; in daylight a fortnight ago they'd seemed more like traffic wardens waiting to see if you'd return in time to avoid a penalty notice.

So, a fair night, really, and there's actually a lot to be pleased about in all - had ITV got the rights to show this, it'd have been cut into little thirty minute segments and shown at midnight thirty on ITV2 in the middle of the week; the sound was much better than any of the other live shows so far this year - pace Ian Brown; and best of all, it's not got Colin Murray on it.

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