Dan Morris: The heavy metal Last of the Summer Wine

 On and off, I’ve been a gigging musician since I was 15 years old, yet perhaps bizarrely, I’ve always had a bit of a love/hate relationship with festivals.

Radio 1’s Big Weekend rocked Liverpool from last Friday to the bank holiday Sunday, and over the course of the next few months, thousands more revellers will be partying with joyous abandon at the likes of Creamfields, Leeds and Reading, and, of course, Glastonbury. My love of music has been a defining passion of my life, yet when it comes to festivals I’ve always been a little trepidatious, and am all the more so now that I’m in my very, very, very late twenties *cough*.

Don’t get me wrong, over the years I’ve had some great times as a sweaty mess kneeling at the altar of my favourite bands, but as someone who loves to perform rather than spectate, said experiences have often been akin to watching a group of kids play football in the park - truthfully, you’re just itching to join in and show them how it’s done.

When I’ve attended festivals as opposed to standalone indoor gigs, this feeling has been compounded by the lack of a decent kip for several nights and being stripped of the ability to shower.

I don’t mind admitting that I’ve always enjoyed my home comforts, and spending 72 hours stomping through stale beer and the urine of 20,000 strangers with nothing but a lilo and a tin of beans to lay my head on has never been my idea of heaven - even if it meant seeing some of my idols play live.

That being said, I am genuinely gutted not to be attending a particular gathering of metal heads this year, which is sure to give birth to some truly delicious tales. Not long after the new year had come into being, a close pal of mine invited me to join a cohort of ageing heroes he was assembling to attend this year’s Download festival - a Midlands celebration of the truly rockiest of rock.

The acts slated to play at this mammoth festival at Derbyshire’s Donnington Park are always right up my street, but the temptation here was much more to do with the gang of pals on the shortlist.

Said orchestrator welcomed his beautiful first-born into the world late last year, and the planned excursion to Download seemed to be intended as his first major chance to breathe out and take a little time off daddy duty. 

That being the case, he was incredibly excited to assemble a party of beloved brothers to enjoy a cheeky weekend away with, and wanted me firmly in the mix. Looking at the rest of the prospective team sheet, I was there with bells on. Yeah, I’m not much good in a tent, and yeah, I prefer Chateaubriand to steak and kidney pie, but to join this outing with some of my favourite people on the planet was just too good an opportunity to miss. And as the chatter around the planned venture built, the picture in my head became all the more hilariously charming.

The truth is, we are not at all old men. But all of us are much older than when the prospect of three to four days revelling in heavy metal and filth first became appealing, and it has been very entertaining to listen to everyone’s concerns and priorities versus what these might have been 20 years ago. For example, footwear. Where this would have been a pair of flat Vans slip-ons or New Rock boots as standard when we were 18, the boys are now paying a little more thought to their arches. 

One of our number delightedly shared a link to a selection of resolutely unfashionable cushioned hiking boots he’d found on the web, and all of us (including myself, who proudly puts the ‘author’ in ‘orthopedic’) responded with relief and rushed to bag a pair. There has also been talk of sleep masks, blackout tarpaulin and military mattresses to ensure the most comfortable ‘tentcation’ possible, as well as pay as you go phones and cash card alternatives to reduce the risk of lost valuables. 

All of this has, however, paled in comparison to chatter over who happens to have the biggest Thermos flask, and just how many jars of Horlicks might be required to make a weekend of Satanic thrash rock really pop.

Ah, for the days when it was just about White Lightning and guy-liner…

What is very strongly shaping up to be the heavy metal version of Last Of The Summer Wine is set to be a weekend that all will remember. Sadly, personal circumstances have conspired to prevent me from attending, though I will be thinking fondly of the old lads from the comfort of a sedan chair.

Have a ball brothers, and show the young ‘uns how it’s done! Just make sure you don’t leave your teeth behind…