The Alternative Stage
The Alternative Stage kicked-off with an NME Q&A session, followed by the first act of the day, Derek Meins. He appeared on stage accompanied only by himself and an acoustic guitar and proceeded to perform an eccentric blend of obscure poetry and a collection of aggressively pleasing songs that were both enthused and powerful, often climaxing in orgasmic yelps mixed with pleas that he was a famous poet. Following Meins was the act Beans on Toast, another man with a guitar, but this time stationing himself upon a large box, elevating him to a level unattained by his predecessor. There was a raucous support for his anecdotal songs about sex, drugs and politics, some with a serious message about joblessness, and others with a more satirical twist on festival life in general. The crowd reached a unified fever over his propagation of pro-smoking (especially poignant considering the non-smoking nature of the stage that he was performing on) and being the act to precede the oncoming onslaught of comedy, he did an excellent job of warming everyone’s laughing apparatus.
Similarly, the compere, Adam Crow MC, was warmly welcomed during his intermittent appearances and did an outstanding job of both supporting and welcoming the coming acts. First up was the seminal performer Ed Byrne, whose brand of self-deprecating Irish humour was enough to make you laugh your head off; well, off your beer or Guinness at least. Including assaults on current trends towards pseudo-celebrity and other general wastes-of-space, the charming comic quickly gained the crowd’s empathy, especially with his comedic contract-killing of Jade Goody. He proceeded to give another veritable assassination of rap music and hip-hop culture that included a hilarious anecdote about an audience member laughing so much that beer spewed forth from his nose – even though he hadn’t been drinking – and moved on to a critique of fellow Irish musician James Blunt, who he concluded did nothing but hurt one’s cock. After this was a blasphemously funny assault on Christianity, culminating in an assertion of his hatred for parents, and a strange slant towards creepy child-lust. The comedy had begun and it had found their flag-man.
There then followed a plethora of comedy, with Kevin Bridges delivering a slice of fresh, Glaswegian humour with the profanity filter switched firmly off. Closely following was John Fothergill, whose crude Geordie humour that was insultingly endearing complimenting his Scottish counterpart perfectly. His direct insults at certain members of the audience were easily forgiven, as his natural charisma acted as an ointment for the wounds.
After the more conventional comedians came Hugh Lennon and his ‘hypnodog’, Murphy. The act began as a fairly standard, but uproarious, hypnotist show, beginning with Lennon administering a ‘stand-up-sit-down’ test to diagnose whether or not the members of the audience chosen were suitable for hypnotism. After the unworthy had been sent back to sit on the grass, he continued to do fairly mundane things, such as getting them to hug one another, but soon moved onto controlling these ‘rag-dolls’ in a heavily entertaining way; this included fooling one participant to believe that she was from Mars, and could only speak the indigenous language – the person sitting beside her being the only person who could translate. The fact that he had no problem translating was testament to the highly compelling and funny nature of this hypnotic act. The highlight was fooling one participant into believing the cigarette he was smoking was in fact packed with a very potent stash of marijuana – and then slowly realizing that every member of the audience was in fact a police officer. The show climaxed with Murphy, the eagerly awaited hypnodog, being led onto stage and one-by-one knocking out the various participants with the mere power of his mind.
Following Lennon and his spellbinding canine was Matt Reed, who produced an innocently expressed North-Eastern, working-class set of keen observations that were aberrantly abstract and abusive, but easily digested an appreciated – his provocation of the crowd through his controversial humour was injected into the audience’s bloodstream like the opiate that he claimed have been reminiscent of using at the beginning.
Junior Simpson, who was eagerly anticipated, marched onto the stage like a Black Panther and instigated a battering on the pedantic prejudices held by various people and places. His comedy was an intuitive and observant commentary on various English cities (notably Newcastle) and the inane and sometimes confusing things that happen there. Alienating himself from the audience was his keenest move, as he won everyone over with relative ease by helping us to see that it isn’t always easy to be a brother taking fruit into Australia. Even more comedy ensued; with Andrew Bird bring a topically sardonic look at the state of the world, this country, and why sharks belong in hotter climates.
Ben Hurley, the cuddly Kiwi, began his act with an insult to every British-born member of the audience and encouraged people to throw various objects at him; for some reason (possibly due to his unique blend of abuse and comedy) he automatically clicked with the crowd. Using his national charm and wit he began tearing up Oceana and even the pedestal-placed, late Steve Irwin. He also to a wry look at the festival experience and the divisions that arise between the different fans of bands – notably Emos and Goths, and the perplexing way that they can manage to wear so much black in such heat and still remain pale. Moving on to compare football to anal sex, blue humour was abound. Hurley expertly won over – and sometimes even controlled – the audience who were semi-constantly agog with laughter, as if their eponymous lime was being forced into their mouths.
James Wright
