Psicle: QOTSA

I'm suffering from recurrent viral infection which I'm in no way blaming Jon for so when Olly (aka Simon) tells me earlier in the week that he's descending en masse from the far from frozen north armed with QOTSA VIP tickets my reaction is a little like us southerners would have felt when hearing about the latest tribal incursion into Wessex. Will be interesting to see a new culture that I've only ever seen in passing but I don't want to die in a sun scorched field doing it. Luckily by Saturday morning although not fighting fit I'm ready to face the onslaught and squeeze Olly, Cameron, Alex and Lucy into the Mini to transport back the the homestead where Debbie rustles up a hearty brunch and after a dose of Dutch courage (yes, mainly gin for us) we are ready for the fray!

Our excursion is isn't noteworthy and soon enough we are sporting our VIP wristbands and I'm stood at the uncrowded bar ordering drinks. Now Olly didn't realise he'd bought these ticket til they arrived just a week ago and being the generous man that he is won't accept payment for them. I'm determined to make this up by buying drinks all day which starts badly, or well according to my wallet, as two large Gs with extra T plus 3 ciders and a wine only set me back £23. Obviously a mistake by the bar staff which I only realise afterwards as I've used contactless. Soon we're watching Miles Kane who has an excellent band and plays very well indeed. Not a bad singer too. Indie rock and roll in a Arctic style and as Olly opines a nice way to start an all dayer in the sun. Next up are The Hives who deliver a high octane set of post indie garage rock and roll that excites the crowd and to be honest I can't quite believe how many punters are here for them and how wildly well they go down. Consummate professionals with a great sound and looking sharp in their B&W alternating threads. The lead singer is a charismatic type who spends a lot of the time down with the kids in the crowd, well, apart from the fencing, and spending a lot of time chatting to us. Entertainment value 10 although I don't succumb to his entreaties to bend my knee in homage as the new king of England. There's a booth selling VIP upgrades next to the VIP entrance and as the queues for the bars are apparently 2 hours long they're doing a roaring trade. Which is a drag for us as the VIP bar area is now mobbed. I wander over to the stage area to see Run the Jewels who are going down well but to be honest don't float my coracle. A bit formulaic and an old formula at that. Having said that as Iggy Pop takes the stage and starts with I Just Wanna Be Your Dog I really don't care that it sounds old and formulaic - it's still brilliant. Iggy powers through an excellent set with his damn hot band backing him. If anything it's Pop's vocals that are letting the sound down but he is 70 odd I guess. He don't climb the PA no more but is fairly energetic nevertheless. I'm flagging in the heat and having heard the main classics such as The Passenger and Lust for Life I sneak back to the VIP shady area where I search for Debbie. I knew he'd do a Bowie number and Olly confirms later that it's Jean Genie. Our joint effort to buy a round is thwarted as although Debbie gets in the Gs and lagers (run out of cider!) only Olly returns to us so the young uns miss out on refreshment. Soon enough the thronging crowd are welcoming the greatly anticipated Queens of the Stone Age on stage and they are straight into a greatly rocking grungy set delivered by a group of excellent musicians. They go down really very well and Olly can't get over how many are watching them, about 45,000 compared when he saw them at the Sheffield Leadmill which was under 500. They are great but my recent ailment, 30 degree heat and supping additional beers means that I'm flagging and Debbie and I decide to beat the rush to the tube. Luckily no one sings at us we can see you sneaking off. I'm a bit guilty leaving poor Olly on his own but he seems happy enough and later finds his son, girlfriend and friend. After being directed up and down Finsbury Park like the Grand Old Duke of York we find out way to the tube and have a relaxed tube ride home to find out that both Ronaldo and Messi have crashed out of the World Cup Ha! Ha Ha Ha!!! A couple of hours later the others roll in (Lucy having trained back to the west country) and I rudely retire early as knackered.

Thanks for the tickets Olly! Sorry I didn't manage to recompense you with drink for the ticket prices. In fact you probably ended up spending more than me! Great day though and see you soon....