Streaming across the fields of Hertfordshire they came, a crowd of biblical proportions, heading for the promised land of Knebworth. For they had heard the call of the chosen one, and his name was Robbie Williams. Verily did his disciples come, and the supporting acts, and the media, and the t-shirt sellers, and the purveyors of greasy food. And the sun did shine upon them, perhaps a bit too strongly, and the heaving throng had a most excellent time. And I was there.
You may have seen me on Channel 4 last night. I was the sixteenth pixel from the left, to the far left of the stage, behind the tree and the X-Box tent. Robbie may only have been about a centimetre tall from there but at least I could see him, some of the time, rather than having to rely on the big screens or waiting until I got home to watch it properly on video. I could also see the towers of Stevenage, glinting in the distance, a reminder of just how far we had to walk back to the station. The crowd was truly enormous, probably too much so for the confined space of the Knebworth arena, but they were present to experience rock music history in the making. Well, that's what it said in the paper anyway.
The gates opened at noon, and a steady stream of people made their way into the arena as the day wore on. Only those with a special yellow wristband were allowed into the large pit around the front of the stage - the rest of us had to make do with whatever space we could find and at whatever distance from the action. Some people queued to buy the official merchandise (sorry Robbie, it wasn't very good), some bought inflatable sofas to sit on, some risked a plastic tray of noodles or tray of plastic chips, everyone queued for very-necessary liquid refreshment, and most turned slowly redder and redder in the blazing sunshine. As people stripped down to the waist a huge number of tattoos were on show - celtic and chinese symbols, dragons, tigers, etc. It struck me that lobsters might have been a better choice.
First on stage, about three, were The Darkness. They announced that they were from Lowestoft and proceeded to strut around the stage in a retro-glam-heavy-rock style. Tellingly, Robbie Williams arrived by helicopter after they'd finished. Next on was Kelly Osbourne, who proved the perfect embodiment of fame over talent, followed later by Ash who stormed the crowd with a rocking set of guitar-power pop. And then, after Ash had left the stage, I made the mistake of going to the toilet. There were no toilets in our corner of the arena so this involved a nightmare 40-minute queueing stalemate to get up to the top of the field and back again. Next time, Knebworth, some crowd control would be appreciated in preference to bladder control. I was back just in time for Moby's hour long set, a marvellous mix of electro, gospel, funk and punk that was over too soon.
Robbie finally took to the stage before sunset, suspended bat-like over the stage. He charmed and transfixed the audience for a full two hours with a mixture of hits and styles old and new, a perfect showman in the Freddie Mercury tradition. We let him entertain us. Few people have established such a singalong back catalogue of hits as our Robbie, and the evening sometimes felt like mass karaoke alongside performance art. He was clearly in his element and just a little overawed by the experience, as were we. He saved Angels for the finale, complete with pyrotechnics to match the raised lighters in the crowd, and the night was topped off with a rocking version of the Take That classic Back for Good.
And then there was getting home. It took 15 minutes to get out of the arena, but more than another hour to walk out of the park thanks to some appallingly mismanaged bottlenecks. No cars were allowed to leave until the pedestrians had cleared, so I was glad to be travelling back by train even if the station was still a 2 mile walk away. It wouldn't surprise me if half the audience was still there, trapped in transport purgatory but probably considering going back in again today to enjoy the whole experience again. Me, I'm just going to rest my aching legs, rub in a bit more sun cream and rewind the video. No regrets.
You may have seen me on Channel 4 last night. I was the sixteenth pixel from the left, to the far left of the stage, behind the tree and the X-Box tent. Robbie may only have been about a centimetre tall from there but at least I could see him, some of the time, rather than having to rely on the big screens or waiting until I got home to watch it properly on video. I could also see the towers of Stevenage, glinting in the distance, a reminder of just how far we had to walk back to the station. The crowd was truly enormous, probably too much so for the confined space of the Knebworth arena, but they were present to experience rock music history in the making. Well, that's what it said in the paper anyway.
First on stage, about three, were The Darkness. They announced that they were from Lowestoft and proceeded to strut around the stage in a retro-glam-heavy-rock style. Tellingly, Robbie Williams arrived by helicopter after they'd finished. Next on was Kelly Osbourne, who proved the perfect embodiment of fame over talent, followed later by Ash who stormed the crowd with a rocking set of guitar-power pop. And then, after Ash had left the stage, I made the mistake of going to the toilet. There were no toilets in our corner of the arena so this involved a nightmare 40-minute queueing stalemate to get up to the top of the field and back again. Next time, Knebworth, some crowd control would be appreciated in preference to bladder control. I was back just in time for Moby's hour long set, a marvellous mix of electro, gospel, funk and punk that was over too soon.
