Friday 18/08/06 Day 1 @ Lowlands Festival, Holland

Gigwise arrives bleary-eyed and cream crackered in the sweat inducing Dutch heat, after a gruelling early morning experience at the airport that was not far short of the rubber glove treatment. Gasping for a drink after the erratic curb-humping bus journey over to the Lowlands Festival site we find that our money (efficiently swapped at the Post Office days earlier) is not valid here. Nope, it must be exchanged for strange plastic pink tokens known as ‘Munt’. Nice.

It’s only after pitching the tent (in one of the colossal seven campsites) that we realise that if you were to take a tape measure, we have chosen the exact point that is furtherest from festival activities. No wonder there was so much space.
So, onward to the Grolsch stage to wait, with butterflies in our bellies, for the God-like Borrell and Razorlight . It is here that we suffer our first encounter with the screaming banshee of a VJ who, fuelled by some unknown substance was able to bounce around screeching non stop for the next three days. She seemed to like the word SEX-SI.

Razorlight open suitably with the new ‘un ‘In The Morning’ which being of a similar ilk to the debut album is enough to get the punters bouncing, that and Johnny resplendent in a spray-on white baby grow. Okay so it's a pair of white drainpipes and a white t-shirt but that’s what it looks like. Things die down a bit after that as the band settle into their new stuff which seems to disappoint the few who were expecting a bit of a boogie. However this doesn’t put off a group of unlikely looking Razorlight fans who clump about in their army issue boots and camouflage shorts, skin heads gleaming in the sun. The newer stuff shows a more mature, jaded side and showcases Johnny’s ability to grab and hold the most amazing notes. He doesn’t just speak-sing after all. Particular favourites include ‘I Can’t Stop This Feeling I’ve Got’ and the topical ‘America’ as a screaming pink-faced girl is hauled away from the stage to spend the rest of the gig crying on the floor. The set ends briskly with the front man practically galloping off as if he has the shits: well, in that outfit…

A quick pit stop is in order and with so much choice of Indian, Asian, Chinese, Greek, Turkish and English grub (as well as a hefty Dutch waffle and cream), Gigwise nearly misses the next act: HIM. Hats off to the Finns for providing one of the best light shows of the festival, as the band appear under a sheet of deep, blood-red light, a host of gothic claw-like chandeliers drop from the ceiling containing hundreds of fiercely burning candles. In contrast Ville Valo is rather uneventful in the flesh. For most of the set he is stone still, unspeaking and clad in a green parka Liam Gallagher would be proud of, also adopting a cocky, slouched demeanour with the mic set a few notches too high. The hoards of black hoodies are delighted however and stompers such as ‘Wings Of A Butterfly’ and ‘Behind The Crimson Door’ receive the biggest roars.

Poking our nose into Bloc Party we decide otherwise. There’s no way of getting anywhere near the tent as the biggest crowd of the day spills out far beyond the cavernous circus style tent and drunken packs can be heard chanting the sparse choruses for miles around. So, last stop in a very long day is the undulating hills that surround the Alpha tent and headliners Placebo. As a very dapper waistcoat encased Brian Molko trots out the whole area is bathed in an eerie blue light. Molko cuts an enchanting figure with dark holes for eyes and a brisling shaved scalp. With a snarling, nervous energy, he works his way through hits such as ‘Nancy Boy’ and ‘Teenage Angst’ to spine chilling effect. As they close with a stunning cover of Kate Bush’s ‘Running Up That Hill’, Gigwise reclines on a moonlit hill on a bed of wood chip, which may be warm like freshly laid doggy-do but ah it’s comfy.