Sunday, Muddy Sunday

[With sincere apologies to U2] 

We saw Florence & the Machine and Snow Patrol at Phoenix Park on Sunday and It Was AMAZEBALLS.  (M has begged me to stop using this word, but needs must I'm afraid -- there is no other superlative that will do.)

Is probably worth mentioning at the outset that, as well as amazeballs, it was seriously MUDDY. Not just "it rained a bit before the concert" muddy.  More like an "it's been raining for the past three days and this is the third night in a row a major concert's taking place at the venue" kind of muddy.  Welly-makers across the country surely hit their yearly sales projections in the days leading up to and including.  Our group, I'm happy to report, were full participants in the Welly Fashion Parade:

We know.  So stylish.  

As with most outdoor music events in Ireland, there were a lot of disturbingly drunk people. Memory serving, I counted three knock-down-drag-out-in-the-mud fights kick off within ten feet of me throughout the night and this was supposedly the "tame" ticket in the multi-day concert series?  (The Swedish House Mafia gig at the same venue the previous night, for example, will go down in history for its nine stabbings and two confirmed overdose deaths.  To be clear, one particularly ambitious would-be murderer managed to stab five people, so technically there were "only" five stabbing incidents total. But let's not split hairs.)  

My favorite lone-drunkard of the evening has to be the cowboy I spotted, swaying precariously back and forth during the break between Flo and Snow, clutching his beer as though life depended.  Gotta hand it to him -- he is fully owning the hat and mud. 

M agreed, after much cajoling, to let me on his shoulders for Florence's "Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up.)"  In my defense, it was her suggestion (to the audience), so I can hardly be blamed for the back pain he's been complaining about since.  Fault the extra weight on my mud-caked wellies.  From my vantage point above the crowd, his injury and sacrifice were totally worth it!  She was brilliant and mad in equal measure, like some bouncing ethereal, flame-haired fairy with a voice live that sounds every bit as good as when it's blasted on the stereo in your living room.   At one point, she stopped, picked up a champagne glass full of black liquid with a white foamy cap and sang an a-cappella verse:

"Black velvet and that little boy's smile,

Black velvet and that slow, Southern style.

A new religion that'll bring you to your knees, 

Black velvet if you please..."

Suffice to say, I believe Guinness may have its new ad campaign.  

And, from now on, I will only be drinking Guinness from a champagne flute.

"We raise it up

This offering

We raise it up

This is a gift it comes with a price

Who is the lamb and who is the knife

Midas is king and he holds me so tight

And turns me to gold in the sunlight..."

Also, for the record, I purchased the red, polkadot raincoat, pictured above, in Dunnes, as a means to (A) keep dry(ish) and (B) for M & Co not to lose me in the crowd.  Which would have worked...save the fact every third girl at the concert had had the exact same raincoat, as though part of an impromptu pro-festival, anti-rain solidarity movement.  Plan foiled.  

 

By the time Snow Patrol came on, daylight was fast fading and a misty rain was coming down.  But the crowd didn't care one little bit.  From the first song to the last, Gary Lightbody & Co were ELECTRIC, as evidenced by this bouncy, sound-quality-poor video of Run:

The final verse, where the music cuts off and the crowd takes over, sends the good kind of chills down my spine.  The words even contain thinly-veiled encouragement to the post-concert clean-up crew:

"Have heart, my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess..."

"Light up, light up

As if you have a choice

Even if you cannot hear my voice

I'll be right beside you dear...

Louder, louder..."