Kings of Leon - Radioactive

Over in the artist area there was already a queue for the washrooms. Having no shower gel with me, I made the most of the waiting time by decanting some of the toilet hand soap into an empty water bottle. But the waiting went on for a long while due to a faulty water supply. Every few minutes there were the cries of people stuck with shampoo in their eyes while the plumber pulled and pushed pipes round the back.

Then I noticed the empty shower block just the other side of some temporary fencing.

A couple of us found a gap in the barrier. Out of nowhere came a very large man. "Reserved for the Kings of Leon" he said, "and so is this half of the artist toilets". It's hard to believe that someone actually phoned their agent and said "listen I know that Paul Weller, Kasabian, Florence, Stereophonics, Groove Armada + co are all sharing the artist village and facilities, but we require that you put a fence down the middle of the toilets and showers and put a large man there to keep them just for us." But somebody did.

Eventually I got scolded all over for a couple of minutes, though I was pleased with the success of the decanted hand soap.

Spent the day out and about on site, listening. Tinie Tempah had the tent packed beyond capacity and was 100% bounces and smiles behind his diamond crusted microphone. The drummer was unique in that he wore a rucksack and played standing up. Tinie is not to be confused with Temper Trap, who got off to a good start on the second stage, until it took their soundman 20 minutes to realise that the bass drum was twice the volume of anything else.

Back in Tinie's tent later was Shaun Ryder. It was shambolic but poignant. Closing with Step On, he started in top form, his voice bringing back the old Manchester magic. Then he leant on the piano and slowly faded away. Who knows what he was thinking about. Nevertheless, the odd time he picked himself up enough for a "you're twisting my melon kids", or "call the cops", it had more about it than all the polished wailings of the diva he had alongside him.

Tune of the day went to Chew Lips, even though I was the only person there to hear it. The girl can really, really sing, and she's got a stage presence all of her own - like a super cool really awkward teenager. A lot of the set was a bit monotone, mainly because there was nothing live apart from a bit of bass guitar. But then they closed with a song called "Golden Key", and I was holding back the tears.

Over on the main stage, Weller and his band were generating the only big rock n roll sound of the day. But he wasn't too happy about only the Jam songs getting a response or the couple of bottles that came his way during the quieter tunes. There wasn't a lot of tolerance for unfamiliar music anywhere that day, so he wasn't alone.

White Lies were definitely the band of the afternoon. Big sound, big choruses. The only thing lacking was a big crowd.

Backstage again, we were outside the catering tent, about to cross the path back to the dressing rooms when loads of massive blokes in suits and shades came out of nowhere shouting "don't move, don't move, DO NOT move" whilst pushing people back to the sides of the track. Was it Obama?

Tom explained that he was just crossing over to the dressing room to start getting ready.

"No you're not" said a big man.

"Yes I am" said tom.

Out came the enormous hand.

The conversation between tom and the big man got more heated. Then 4 blacked out range rovers came round the corner. One for each King of Leon. As it became clear what all this presidential fuss was about, tom gave the worldwide one fingered sign of dislike as the cars went past. The last one stopped. The drummer got out making "come on then" type gestures. "Come on then" tom gestured back. Instead, the drummer went back behind his bodyguards, and, pointing towards Tom, Paul Weller, and the various other musicians who were pinned by the side of the road, said "I want them removed."

"You will be removed" said the big man.

"No we won't"

The promoter came over, smoothed it over and apologised. Bearing in mind this was all happening backstage in the area shared by all the bands, it's hard to see what the Kings thought they were protecting themselves from. Was Paul Weller going to hound them for autographs? Was Florence going to wrestle them to the ground? Or maybe Stereophonics were going to ask them to write "your sex is on fire" on an album sleeve?

Nevertheless, the Kings had 4 minutes before going onstage to enjoy all those showers and toilets they'd kept to themselves.

We had a great crowd for our gig. Hat off to Staffordshire. It was the gig of the weekend.

We came off stage into the van that would take us back round to the dressing room. As we weaved through thick woodland, a message came over the radio to the driver to pull off the road, repeat, "Pull Off The Road." Guess who.

The Kings were on their way out.

So we waited, reluctantly, whilst getting pretty annoyed with our driver for stopping. A few of us got out, to give the Kings a fond farewell. We made plans. MAD suggested the next day's headline.

"Crap Band Killed in Wood".

Eventually, a couple of buses for crew and entourage came round the corner, followed by the 4 individual range rovers. What a lonely existence.

Back in the artist area, there was a good vibe around the bar. 3 cases of champagne were sent over to GA HQ as a thanks for telling it straight to the Kings.

Andy Cato