Wednesday
In the final chapter of my month of adventures (which could optimistically be called ‘Swim, Jump, Rock’) I have joined my love Iorwerth for his annual pilgrimage to the mecca of Rock and Metal, and we have now arrived at Download Festival in Donington Park.
If you know me at all you will understand that five days of heavy metal music is not normally my thing, but it is so incredibly important to my other half that I went with him last year, and discovered I actually enjoyed it. So when he excitedly got tickets for this year, of course I said yes.
Car packed with food, wet weather gear and a range of rock T-shirts, we set off early this morning and he got more and more excited as we got further north. Our Planet Rock radio DJ got people to send in their recommendations for Download essentials – bunting for the tent, earplugs, sunhat, gaffa tape, wellies – as we joined the thousands of people descending on Donigton.
Here’s where I feel like a bit of a fraud. We aren’t camping. We don’t even have a hut. He tried to book a simple cabin (knowing that five nights in a tent would be a bit much for me) but the only accommodation left was a Rock Block, a half shipping container transformed into an ensuite bedroom, which is an obscene amount of luxury for a music festival. At the time of booking I had a stable job so even though the price was ridiculous, I decided it was worth it to spend some quality time with him and experience this whole other world and some exploratory new music.
So as everyone else wrangles with crowded car parks and constructs their tents, we have picked up our keys (and an inexplicable Download garden gnome each) and settled into our cosy little metal home, complete with bunk bed, plug sockets for his mini fridge and kettle, and our own glorious shower and toilet. So lovely, so lucky, but such an insane amount of money. For something that is not exactly my passion. When the usual eager day one question of ‘Who are you looking forward to seeing?’ was asked by our Rock Block neighbours, I realised with a bit of dismay that I am a shit Downloader as there are only three bands on the line-up that I even know I like – Skindred, Evanescence and Placebo – so I have the fun challenge of having to get my ticket price worth of value here with something other than just the music, since I’m struggling to justify a couple months’ rent on a forty bands that I don’t even have on Spotify.
Grateful for there being no rain in the forecast, for Iorwerth’s excellent organisation and experience, and for the many packets of cupasoup, couscous and porridge he has packed (as well as oat milk for my coffee) so we don’t need to spend one more penny here on food.
Thursday
It is good. The weather is lovely, people are so friendly. We wandered round the ‘village’ full of stalls selling food, clothes and jewellery to the many people in a variety of black, studded and ripped clothes. I bought a little top from the Oxfam shop in order to not be the frumpiest person here. And now we sit in our middle aged people camping chairs half way up the main stage field while Mr Van Halen junior sings. I do not hate this music so I’m all cool. I also absolutely love watching the people.
There is clearly a uniform for Download, which is largely black, with accents of red, and as much skull, death and blood imagery as possible. Band names and festival tops are worn as badges of pride and connection, and shirts with clever/offensive/blasphemous slogans are welcomed.
‘Who’s awesome? Not you, you’re a cunt.’
‘I’m not an expert but I have watched a number of YouTube videos’ (with a chainsaw image)
‘Satan Sucks. Jesus Swallows.’
Hair should be either jet black or any range of vibrant pink, green, blue or red. For the ladies, a tight corset or gorgeous black bra with a tiny skirt or shorts that show as much beautifully uninhibited flesh as possible and black fishnets down to heavy clomping boots is the exemplary standard, with any variety of meticulous dark makeup and an assortment of chains, studs, bars and bracelets. For the men, if you want to veer from the standard black rock T-shirt, you are welcome to go topless (from huge sunburned beer bellies to golden tattooed torsos) but the most points are awarded for creativity with flowing Jesus robes, Viking armour, a Doc Brown suit, Mario brothers outfits, the yellow wolf in a suit from that Eurovision song, a flock of penguins, a hotdog, or any variety of frilly delicate girly dress. Wedding dresses score very highly, especially when pulled tight over enormous hairy chests and thickly tattooed arms, and you can buy a second hand one from the ‘Random Weird Shit’ shop for £20. There are a lot of kilts. And more tattooed skin that I have ever seen in one place. Sunhats are important, and sold everywhere. The usual designs of yellow smiley faces, marijuana leaves and cookie monsters are complemented by ‘fuck you’ and ‘cunt’ designs which provide a lovely his-and-hers combo. I have forgotten to bring the hat I bought last year so now have a new tenner’s worth of sun protection in black and white hearts, and while the rest of me does not conform to the Download clothing standards, I know that frumpy jeans and trainers are just as welcome here since there seems to be zero judgement at Download.
I would like to do a photo collection of all these awesome individuals, and call it Humans of Download or something, but I’d have to be the kind of person who goes up to strangers and asks to take their picture, and I am not that person. Not yet.
A band called Jinjer is on now and as the ear-bursting opening song starts up people stream towards the stage, flowing past those of us established in our little camping chair islands. A tattooed lady in tight black trousers and croptop roars into the mic with a voice like a horror movie demon. Incredibly impressive. And between songs she says ‘We’re Jinjer from Ukraine!’ The crowd woops in delight. ‘We’re here to express our gratitude to you guys for your love and support. We need your support more than ever. Spread the word!’
A flag insulting a Russian leader waves on glorious sunlit blue and yellow in the crowd.
We leave Jinjer early and pick our way over people asleep in the sun to the Avalanche stage for the Punk Rock Factory. I can see why this tent is already full: these guys are awesome. Within minutes a couple thousand of us are singing along to a rock version of Mama Mia, followed by a hilarious rendition of Under the Sea. We don’t talk about Bruno and You’re Welcome involve full jumping and singing participation and I’m privileged to witness the spectacular moment a marquee full of tattooed metal heads shout along to the Spongebob Squarepants theme tune.
The lead singer looks at the crowd and says, ‘Fuck me, so many of you! And people outside! Hello people outside!’
Rolls of trailing toilet paper and an inflatable dingy fly through the air for Let it Go and How Far I’ll go. I’m nearly crying.
We stay till the last delicious minute and head over elated through growing crowds in the evening sun for Hailstorm, where a beautiful lady screams, ‘Tonight, Download, this is our church and you are our people!’
There’s a scheduling misunderstanding and I realise I have missed Skindred on the other stage. It pisses me off more than it should, and as it gets dark, the cold sets in and I grumpily layer up with hoodie and scarf before Metallica headline the main stage.
The vast crowd goes insane as Mr Metallica says they’re very happy to be playing here for the 9th time and they start off with some incredibly loud growly music. I discover I really don’t like Metallica. I manage to stick around politely for four songs, then give Iorwerth a hug and leave him there, walking sadly back to the block where I realise I’m crying.
This is not my world. Why am I here? I need to make each day worth a lot of money and it just isn’t. Not while I’m unemployed. It doesn’t bode well if my favourite song on day one is a Disney cover. I’m grateful for the weather, for my bed and hot shower. Grateful that we’re at least not pissing away more money on alcohol. Grateful that Metallica is so loud over there that no-one can hear me sobbing onto my £200 a night bunkbed.
And no internet or reception so I can’t even listen to my own music in my earphones. I just want to go home.
Friday
11am. Really not feeling it today. Yesterday the whole place was excited, energised, and as the Metallica man said, ‘It’s the first day, you all smell good still!’ I made some effort yesterday, even wore makeup, was happy to see people, chatted and complemented outfits. Today I don’t want to leave my bed. I’m guessing other people are hungover and tired too and lost the sparkly buzz of day one.
I can hear the northern guys congregating at our neighbour’s porch and I can’t be dealing with smalltalk and smiles so I stay right here.
2pm
‘We are Smash Into Pieces and we are from Sweden!’
The second stage feels more like my place. Iorwerth saved us a good spot at the back of the arena and after a shower and coffee I found some energy and now I’m watching a skinny young guitarist in half a grey hoodie fly kick the air with each beat. ‘In these difficult times we got to stick together! We want to see your hands!’ Woohoo!
I like it when they take photos of the audience, they’re so excited to be here.
A lazy gap between bands. Nearly fell asleep in my camping chair just now but it’s suddenly getting crowded. A man who nearly steps on my foot says it’s about to get a bit hectic here.
A backdrop of Elvis with wings has appeared on stage and a huge cheer erupts as a man in a flared black skeleton suit prances onto the stage and starts singing Nirvana’s Scentless Apprentice which transitions into Hound Dog by Elvis. Very clever.
‘We are Elvana from Disgraceland! Who’s seeing us for the first time?’
Iorwerth nudges me and I raise my hand along with a few hundred others. ‘There’s a lot of Elvana virgins!’ says the guitarist.
‘That’s a lot of virgins for the second day of a music festival!’
As the laughter and cheers die down, he says, ‘So Download, you may notice that sometimes I will sound like Matthew McConaughey, sometimes I’ll sound like Nicolas Cage. If you’re lucky I might sound like Kurt Cobain. Most of the time I do not sound like Elvis Presley. Do I give a fuck Download? Do you give a fuck Download? No, then were going to get along just fine.’ And A Little Less Conversation merges seamlessly with Smells Like Teen Spirit and I find I’m laughing and dancing along.
‘Right then Download, we’re going to see if we can break a world record for the most circle pits during an Elvis song!’
‘Wooooooo!’
‘Not just at the front, I wanna see circle pits right at the back too!’
We all look around and laugh at the unlikelihood of any sort of shenanigans back here.
‘Rule number one: Be nice!’
‘Wooooooo!’
Rule number two: If someone falls over, pick them up and send them on their way.’
‘Woohoooooo!’
‘Rule number three: You can do anything – ANYTHING – but don’t you step on my blue suede shoes!’
The dust rises at the front as a variety of human whirlpools spin around in the crowd. Near our spot there’s a very civilised walk in a circle and then the guy behind us moves to a gap to take the arm of another guy. I run over and join in, linking arms and spinning round with alternating strangers in a small circle of country dancing to Blue Suede Shoes.
Laughing. Elated. Thank you so much Elvana. There’s nothing like some impromptu dancing to snap you out of your festival gloom.
Mr Elvana is pleased with our efforts – ‘Fifteen circle pits and a couple of congas. Are you all gunna conga to Bring Me the Horizon tonight?’
After the enthusiastic commitment from all of us to jump to the last song, the notes of Lithium start up and we all start singing along – ‘I’m so happy, cos today I found my friends…’ Until the music gets cut off.
What? We keep singing defiantly a cappella while our man on his silent stage looks confused, then apologetic as a crew of about 30 guys in black swarm the stage to start clearing his kit. He bows and his awesome set ends in a confused smattering of applause while people around us shake their heads and say ‘Harsh!’ and Iorwerth checks his watch and accepts, ‘Fair enough, they ran over their time.’
Epica are next, an operatic metal band with huge silver cobras on stage. A lady in a long black dress sings enchanting opera to heavy rock metal and guitarists swish miles of lovely hair all over their faces as they headbang in time. ‘Download, are you ready to be unleashed?’ she screams. The crowd whoops in response and a man behind me says, ‘Nah, you’re alright love.’ It’s very beautiful but I sit back down for this. The elegant Epica lady finishes off with an instruction to not get sunburned, drink plenty of water and keep rocking. There’s flames and sparks and the cobras are breathing out steam now, very clever.
The crowd transforms around us as Epica fans leave and Asking Alexandria people arrive. Luminous green hair glows in the sun, sunburned flesh strains against black bra straps, feathers in hats blow in the wind, yellow Picachu ears bob about. A couple of kids are deftly collecting the ubiquitous paper cups into a towering stack that sways through the crowd towards the recycling station.
A man passing us points to Iorwerth’s T-shirt and shouts, ‘Steelhouse Festival!’ and we are instantly bonded in our shared love of a little festival up a Welsh mountain, and joyously invited to join Ian and Mary’s Steelhouse family round the big picnic bench there next month.
By the end of the day I am fully immersed and get all emotional during Evanescence. The sun sets in Queen Amy’s crystal blue eyes as she plays a huge black grand piano, her enchanting voice strong and silky as her glorious black hair blows everywhere along with the red ribbons in her fluttering gothic dress. She’s simply magnificent. Her little sermon towards the end includes the passionate message that, ‘We are all here for each other. Don’t be afraid to speak up for what you believe. There’s a lot of fucking voices here!’
She tells us they love us and thank us for being part of their lives and I join the mass of voices and arms in the air as we sing along to My Immortal. ‘These wounds won’t seem to heal, this pain is just too real, there’s just too much that time can not erase….’ This is worth my whole festival fee, it’s simply glorious. Thank you so much.
Saturday
Enjoying it more today. We start off at the Avalanche tent to see some excited small bands who are overjoyed to be playing Download. I join the immense queue for the ice cream van and surprise Iorwerth with a triple cone. Then back to the block to get changed because why on earth are you wearing jeans woman? It is so hot today. Thousands of people swelter on yellow grass under the fierce sun. Two strangers sit close together in the shade of a single flag, and there is one tree whose shadow is perfectly outlined by huddles of gratefully shaded people.
I worry for the ones who are lying down in the middle of the arena fast asleep in this scorching sun, but I’m pleased for the abundance of sun hats, including the makeshift ones out of a pizza box or beer multipack, or the guy who has cut his jeans in half and fashioned a hat out of one cut off. I’m grateful for the never-ending supply of drinking water and abundance of toilets for this temporary population the size of ten Melkshams. The water doesn’t run out but the queues are growing. Iorwerth went about half an hour ago to refill our water bottles and has still not returned. I’m scanning the crowd for a man in black t-shirt and cowboy hat… yeah that doesn’t help.
Once he returns and we have a small excited singalong to Clutch, I go for a wander and spend 20 minutes getting through the dusty sunburned half naked crowd, past massive queues for ice cream vans and lines of people in the shade of a fence all the way to the Dogtooth stage where a band called Bob Vylan is due to start at 5.20. I’m genuinely only here because of the name. The marquee is already heaving – either due to their reputation or the fact that it’s under shade – and a great cheer erupts as they start up. I can’t see anything but I hear a delicious cockney voice – refreshing among all these American accents – and I am instantly enthralled.
‘So we will begin as we always do with some light stretching and meditation.’ The tall men in front of me are obediently following some arm stretch movements until Mr Vylan shouts, ‘Mind the gap and please take all your fucking belongings with you!’ to which the place erupts into a pumping grime/hiphop/punk explosion of War On the Northern Line.
I absolutely love it. Between strangers’ shoulders I get a glimpse of my new dreadlocked hero as he rips off his t-shirt and leaps and stamps around the stage delivering some emphatic musical messages about race, inequality and police brutality.
‘We’re not allowed to tell you to mosh pit, or circle of death pit, so please DON’T do that. Especially don’t mosh pit to this one!’ Even here at the edge of the marquee the crowd bounces around and I jump along to the pounding beats.
With slightly less lightheartedness than yesterday’s Elvana, he says ‘Let’s dedicate this next song to that fucker who stole a whole genre of music from a whole people, that fucker Elvis Presley.’ Some people leave at this point but I don’t care as it means I can get closer to the front.
When I return to Iorwerth I am beaming with elation and settle in for Disturbed, where we are treated to some very heavy metal interspersed with mental health awareness messages.
‘Raise your hand if you have suffered from addiction or depression or know someone who has.’ Pretty much every hand is up. ‘Take a look round my friends. You are not alone.’
‘Woooooo’
During Placebo I’m so happy. We have a good spot, it’s still warm enough to be wearing my little dress as the sun sets and the iconic voice of Brian Molko starts up and I love him. I turn to Iorwerth and say, ‘I get it now.’ ‘What?’ ‘I get this, I get into the zone. Took me a while but I’m here now.’ Beaming with happiness, finally. Everything is good.
At Metallica’s second set, I’m not crying this time. I’m grinning in delight at how much everyone around me enjoys this. All fists in the air head bobbing unison as they sing along even this far back. 100,000 people are very lucky with this glorious weather. To be able to enjoy your favourite metal band in shorts while the sky turns gradually pink at 9.30 at night. I’m grateful on everyone’s behalf.
The image of Papa Hetfield, calm and serene as he holds his guitar, fills the immense screens. He looks down at the moshing crowd and says ‘You’re all quite intense.’ Then pauses and smiles. ‘Here’s my dad joke… The fans at Download are in tents.’ After some laughter and cheers he says, ‘Well some are in campers or something else. I don’t know, they gave me a microphone and I can’t help myself.’
I love him. I’m gunna make it through this whole set. It’s better when you’re not freezing and furious. My love just arranged for us to go on the Ferris Wheel as it got dark so we could get a video of the crowd. And as we boarded our little plexiglass pod they played The Unforgiven, the only Metallica song I know I love. And my gorgeous love got a perfect video of it as we were up in the sky above this vast crowd. They also just played Whisky in the Jar which pushed them higher up my list of highlights, and with Enter Sandman I think I am now a Metallica fan.
Sunday
We are simply cooking here. Sitting out in the main stage in 2pm scorching sun. I have sunscreened my arms but still have a scarf draped over my pink shoulders, as I join in with the right side sunburn that everyone has. There’s not a wisp of a cloud today. Some people huddle under the shade of the towering speakers which offers a crap view but cool shade, while the rest of us sweat and suffer, especially the Slipknot fans in red boiler suits and white masks. I just saw a brown liquid dripping down my shin and wondered in panic if I’m bleeding black coffee, but no, it’s just my sweat mixed with the Download dust.
I wanted to experience the front of a crowd so got in early today for an excitable Finish band called Blind Channel who looked genuinely over the moon to be playing Download, and kept grinning between angry growly verses and inviting me to loose my fucking mind. Now these Mongolian wonders of the Hu, who are not as chatty, declare their love for Download as we all sit here sweltering.
‘Thank you! You on fire!’
With a stringed traditional Mongolian instrument and a backing track of horses, the nine of them on stage perform some epic tunes and end with ‘Thank you. We love Download! We are the HU.’
It feels like I broke my ears yesterday as they are over sensitive to the insane volume of everything today. So without earplugs (silly woman) I have arranged some redundant earphones to suspend from my hat so I have the option of plugged in or out. And like a child with stringed mittens, I won’t lose them. They are currently firmly in.
15.36
We have made it to the second stage in time to see five guys in red and black suits and a lot of eye makeup leap onto the stage and introduce themselves with: ‘We are Avatar and we play heavy metal music!’
My heat coping strategies are alternating between sitting down in my chair in this crowd, where it’s hot but I expend no energy, or standing up where I get dizzy but can feel the breeze. There are a few promising clouds over there that seem to be the extent of the rain forecast for this evening. Not sure it was a good idea to take part in Rock Fit this morning, but I was determined to get every last minute’s worth of value out of the last day, which included joining in with an excellent aerobics class in the Doghouse Stage at 11am in which a few hundred of us jumped, kicked and punched the air to metal music as instructed by three amazing ladies on stage in red and black fiery leggings.
My love brings me a warm coke which is all they had left. I’m so grateful as I’m weak and dizzy, struggling to bop my head lightly in this heat while both guitarists swing their long hair in powerful circles, hair swishing like a shampoo advert on a loop. My ears hurt so much they actually might be bleeding under my earphones as a screaming Scandinavian in a red and black suit is declaring that ‘Donington belongs to meeeeeee!’
‘Download, take care of yourselves, be good to each other and we will see you soon!’
And as Avatar’s set ends a delicious fat white cloud arrives at the sun and finally the whole festival is in shade. I was going to give up but I can cope now.
I go for a mission to check out Behemoth on the main stage and while not my kind of band at all, I enjoy the sweaty death metal crowd loving them, and stop to collect a free hug from an excellent man standing in the middle of the path with his arms out. ‘Yey for free hugs!’ he grins as we part with a fist bump. There’s also time for a chat with a Festival Chaplain in the Christian tent. ‘So what do you think about all the Satanic blasphemous rage in the music here?’ I ask a cheerful yellow-t-shirted man. ‘Well it’s really interesting. Everyone’s just here to enjoy the music, and to be honest, it’s the friendliest hundred thousand people I’ve ever met.’ He looks genuinely baffled but absolutely heart-warmed by this fact. ‘I know, right,’ I smile, and head back, past a couple of red boiler suited strangers who bump fists as they pass each other, a man holding a Millennium Falcon made of yellow and white paper cups, and several seated people who move their feet to let me pass.
In between bands the screens fill with messages about keeping hydrated, recycling and understanding consent. And there’s a series of photos of awesome Downloaders with a little quote each about how friendly and welcoming this festival is, or how it’s like coming home, or how there’s no judgement here. ‘Humans of Download,’ of course.
Dinosaur Pile-Up has some technical difficulties that delay their set. Once they get going a frustrated front man says, ‘I hope you enjoy watching us take a shit on stage!’ They still perform some well received energetic tunes under grey clouds and a much appreciated cool breeze that feels like it might contain some rain. I feel the relief of the crowd as the temperature drops a little.
There is half an hour before Ghost, and I challenge myself to make it to the block, collect our waterproofs, have a wee and be back to the second stage by 8pm. However I forget to factor in the 60 or so thousand people other who also feel like a bit of Ghost at about that time and on my return discover that the entire second stage is surrounded by a solid wall of standing rockers several hundred deep. On all sides. And getting deeper the longer I stand there with a panicky sense of separation from my love with no reception. I can’t even see the stage when the music starts, and realise I will be stuck in this crowd of tall men at the edges for the next hour while my chair sits empty deep in the middle. And if it starts to rain I have Iorwerth’s waterproof! Am I brave enough to be one of those people who just pushes straight through a crowd? No. of course not. I do not cause inconvenience. I do not get in people’s way. But hang on, isn’t Download the friendliest festival? Haven’t I moved aside many times to let people past me in the crowd? Am I actually trembling at the thought of this? Didn’t I jump out of a flipping plane last week?
It took me three more songs to find the courage for the five minute obstacle course that was a hundred ‘Sorry!’s, ‘Excuse me’s and ‘Could I just…?’s which I managed with only one foot trodden on – ‘Oh my God I’m so sorry! (from both of us) – and one pink camping chair completely tripped over until, pushing through endless clusters of densely packed humans, I saw Iorwerth’s hat in the crowd up ahead. I arrived, breathless, shaking and jubilant into his baffled arms. In time to discover, with their performance of Mary on a Cross, that I absolutely love Ghost. I took out my earplugs and let the melodious magic fill my soul, singing along to songs I have never heard before, marvelling at the magnificent man in black and white makeup with multiple costume changes on the stage, utterly enamoured by the time he reached his fabulous fiery finale.
With a triumphant ‘Cheers!’ he left the stage, and in an instant the several thousand people around us turned and moved as one flowing mass to the main stage. Not in a rush for the headliners Slipknot, I asked Iorwerth to stand with me for a bit in order to capture the surreal and splendid experience of being a little island (reinforced with two chairs) while a surging tide of happy humans sailed around and past us. I loved the scale of it, the vast endless flow of beautiful people in the growing dusk, thousands of strangers bonded in our shared sunburned affection for sensational Swedish symphonics.
With an appreciation for the furious frenetic frenzy of Slipknot – but no need to spend two hours with them – we make our way through the deliriously happy crowd, where there is jumping, kissing, laughing, singing amid the smell of sunscreen, cider and sweat. I take one last look at the immense sea of awesome people, who now feel like my people, and smile as we head back under festoon lights and a dark pink sky to our little home, with goodnights, thanks and fistbumps for every security guard on the way.
‘See you next year?’
‘Absolutely!’
In and out of the comfort zone 