My attendance at Nozstock was confirmed under the strict predication that such a show existed that involved men wanking over each other to a soundtrack of, You’ll Never Walk Alone.
Funny in itself, this was the ONLY reason I found myself in a cramped car on the way down to Staffordshire.
It’s a steep site, which half made me regret the pre-festival bevy I’d had the night before. Festivals take years of practice in between festivals before you get good at them. Excess is a full time job. Luckily a friend had already put a tent up for me so I could settle down.
Having not taken any effort to acquaint myself with the line up I felt like someone who should maybe at least had a little look what was but wasn’t get let it spoil the festival. During the day there was definitely a family atmosphere, plenty of kids stuff going on, archery, sock wrestling and running away from your parents. I like it when vendors have fun with their stall names, like The Toast Office is fun in the same way Peter Andre’s day to day life must be. Lost Children, was another good one.
It’s a well seated festival, theres couches and sofas from DFS also everywere combined with a good array of tables and chairs which is exactly whats needed for a little breather and a sit down ciggie now and again, or maybe I’m dare I say it getting old. It was having said sit down ciggie overlooking the pshy-trance arena that I confirmed it’s a genre whose appeal is lost one me, I like tempo as much as the next guy but I find it far too repetitive.
As it got darker it was clear the festival was really all about. Drum and Base. Once all the family stuff was out the way I felt like the sleazy, letching character in an Irvine Welsh novel, leering at all the barely legal flesh as it riled and skanked its way around the festival in front of me.
With that in mind it was off to the theatre to watch the sole reason for coming, a performance by Ophelia Bitza called ArtWank. Funny in an abvious sense but such a fascinating performance that as a scouser I should find violently offensive yet I admired its provaction. It left me unable to remember the last time I saw a performance that one by one bent over the constructs, and ideals that plague contemporary society over a shiny new DFS sofa, and face fucked them all.
The majority of the rest of the festival was spent in an area called ‘The Cubicles’ which oozed the sort of lawless hedonism made me fell like I’d turned up at a rave during an apocalypse. Between here and The Garden Stage there was enough pulsating house, techno, drum and base and dubstep to make the ground actually shake. With a nice mix of sets from DJ Yoda, Andy C and Mr Scruff.
Cram in a talk with Mr Nice by the time every stage had fell silent on the Sunday night, I headed to the camp site feeling very satisfied with the weekends events. A broad of music with lots of local talent, shops and food stalls all sourced locally with an inviting, lively atmosphere, Nozstock is already an additional permanent fixture on the expandin good vibes calendar, ArtWank or no ArtWank.