I'm standing here in a bird-watching tower on the skirts of the Brosjö marsh. It's the first day of the Rip It Up festival. We came yesterday. At 5 pm The Sunny Street will be the first band to take to the stage. St. Christopher is playing today as well. I don't see any birds. Maybe it's just the wrong season. Or maybe there's a reason all bird-watchers have binoculars. I had to get away. I don't like festivals, apart from the music. People's behaviour is just embarrassing. It's a beautiful day so I thought I'd go for a walk around the marsh that is just next to the festival site. There's no one here. It was peaceful and beautiful walking here. I'd brought The Outsider by Camus with and I'm going to sit down and read the second chapter soon. I swear the buttercups are more than a foot high (just look at the evidence). As I walked I could see the approaching borders of shadow and golden sunlight on the ground as the cotton clouds passed swiftly overhead. The wind changes direction, carrying swathes of Orange Juice blasting from the speakers on the stage. The people are just dots from here and the music is like an old transistor radio. It's too hot up here, I have to go down again. I've sat down at a picnic table and for a second I wish I wasn't alone. But only just. It feels strange sitting here in the middle of nature, while I'm at an indiepop festival. I guess everyone else is busy getting drunk. But then again indiepop has often been called pastoral, even if in a derogatory sense. At least Dave Callahan is a bird-watcher. I don't know where this is going so I'll stop now and continue after all the gigs. I'll tell you then if Glenn Melia played that song or not.
This picture was taken from the Cookie Nose Tower. You can just barely make out the festival area among the trees to the left.