Southbound was long and hot. It was fucking hot, man. Words are scarcely capable of expressing it. I was seared.


The Hives were awesome, but they were not jaw-droppingly, pants-moisteningly awesome. There were scissor kicks and mic twirls, and psycho peepers up the ass, but not enough spitting or banter or fanservice. The crowd lacked the encompassing love; the choice of only three songs from Your New Favourite Band may have contributed. I sacrificed my larynx to them, but it was not enough. It could never be enough.

I was rewarded for my service, though. I held his hand. Cameron grabbed for himself a fistful of Swedish boob, but that was perhaps too close to PDA for my liking. Besides, Pele prefers the ladies. I guess he is European, though. They tend to be more pragmatic about these things than we are.

They played the Black And White tour setlist, not the European festival selection, but they subbed in a new song. I liked it, but if they were going to play something obscure they should have gone for Introduce The Metric System In Time or Genepool Convulsions. I liked every song in the set, but I kinda wish they would stop playing A Little More For A Little You and Diabolic Scheme. They both make for fantastic introduction speeches, but are too slow and obscure for a festival set. I guess people need a chance to breathe, though. Breathing was optional in that crowd, I tell you. I gulped fresh air from the sky at every opportunity. Cam, Brad and I had surged our way to the front, led by Ferg who is some sort of crowd ninja, and also devious. I planted myself in the second row behind two short girls, who cried often about being crushed. What did you expect, idiot children? You're 5'2" and you're front and centre for a fucking punk-rock band with several thousand other people behind you who are having their asses rocked, or are trying to get closer, or both! Holding back that kind of tide of human flesh is simply a dream.

Tran and Noodlez took photos of us. Jacinta claimed she didn't see us. A LIKELY STORY.

I got a setlist (thank you, Fergus!), and I bid $125 for a signed poster in the silent auction, which Cameron claims was no silent auction at all. I, for one, believe a system where I can see and process other bids is more auction than a lottery game of "guess the highest number", but perhaps I am unreasonable. I will likely renege on the bid, or perhaps lower to something more reasonable (like $81?) because the poster is neither mint nor framed nor mounted, nor indeed legibly signed.


So The Hives were awesome, and Birds of Tokyo were actually okay. I enjoyed John Steele Singers a hell of a lot. The rest were all kinda whatever. We left early on Saturday. The Kooks were okay, but The Cat Empires new album is pretty lame and fuck Franz Ferdinand anyway.

Mel posted about her dad and complained that she didnt see anyone at Southbound. I was going to comment, but it seems she blocked me from her journal? Dear Mel: I hope your dad is okay! I guess you have the shits on with me for some reason? Thats probably why you couldnt find us; I am by far the most reliable phone junkie in that group, and you obviously didnt try me. I hope you had your ass rocked by five Swedish gentlemen in ties! I know I did!