Thursday, 13 August 2015

Vincent Walden's not-so-professional reviews: Colt 45 @ Northbound Festival

It's time for another review, and I can see the child-like excitement in your eyes. Don't even pretend that's not true.

So lets kick it all off with a moody artistic looking photo of Neil.

I spent my Sunday, in a field otherwise known as Northbound Festival with the guys of Colt 45 – brought along with a AAA pass with the excuse of having me as a filmer/photographer/documenter for the day. So I did my best of getting in the way, filming when anyone tripped over and parade around the stage when the guys were rocking out.

I was mostly filming the guys, so the images you are seeing are a little pixelated due to them being snapshots of the footage I captured; though they do look pretty cool.

So, I'll actually get to the review. After a few hours of free beer, vegi-burgers and light rain, the lads of Colt 45 mounted the stage to be the headline act for the Sunday night. We had spent ages joking around and bumbling about, but now it was down to business—they had to play a sweet set and I had to stand in the audiences way filming the whole thing.

The set was roughly 12 songs long, tracks from their most recent album, fan favourites and a few covers here and there. The performance was bloody brilliant, I mean it was bloody fantastic.
The crowd hand been bumbling around all day, slowly coming to the stage in the spitting rain, never in large groups but all in small congregations of regatta jackets, ponchos and floral headbands.

The fact that there wasn't a Wembley stadium crowd staring up at the stage added to the quality of the performance. You could see inside the exclusive club of audience members, there were family members and huge fans of the band making loving gestures throughout the set, in the middle of solos and between shouting fits of "HFBDSVEBFFDS" all mixed in with the occasional friendly-aggressive middle finger.

The whole set went off without a hitch, aside from G breaking the smoke machine, Neil singing the same line twice and Adam dropping his stick; oh and then there was me, crouching in a waterproof coat, next the drum kit getting in the way, filming everything, and very quickly running out memory.

I was diving around the stage, trying to capture the sweaty punks, whilst all the time trying not to get carried away with the song, not trip over the wires, trying to allow the audience to see the lads and doing my very best to take all the footage I could without filling my memory card.

Aside from me and my problems, the gig was brilliant. It wasn't tarnished by the rain, nor was it bothered by the smaller crowd size of a Sunday, but most importantly; everyone was loving it – myself included.

A bloody brilliant performance from a bunch of lovely Cumbrians, even if I didn't have a clue what 2/3 of the band was saying.


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