Escape Into The Park 2008

United Kingdom | | 16 June 2008

Cider swilling skin heads sweep about in gangs outside the gates to Singleton Park, apparently competing in a ‘who can shout the loudest’ game. This initially aggressive atmosphere is further compounded by a girl at the entrance cackling, “What you looking at, there ain’t nufin to see!”, while propping up her semi-conscious friend with pants about her ankles…at 11:30am.

Once inside the park, though, there is relative calm – for now at least. The site is decorated with conceptual art, which subtly compliments the beauty of the trees dotted about this legal rave. Girls clad in pink pop socks and bras gyrate about closely to topless tanned boys, all of who appear to be regular users of their annual gym pass. The beautiful people strike poses in the sun at the main stage, as well as in any one of the five tent events going on in unison. A quick trip to the toilet turns into a mammoth mission as the water guzzling masses queue to use the facilities - or as the three condoms on the cubicle floor at only 1pm would attest - the privacy. Once inebriation takes a firmer hold most men simply use the bushes or any tree to evade the queues and get back to the raving of which there is massive choice.

Despite this being a dazzlingly sunny day, inside the tents it could be the middle of the night in an illegal warehouse party. Smoke billows about, accentuating the lasers and strobe lighting, as bodies in constant movement find unison with the DJ. The Polysexual Arena lives up to its name playing mainly hardcore beats from the likes of Lisa Lashes and Andy Whitby and attracting the most colourful fans. This tent houses the hardcore fans from fire breathers to glow stick spinners, each expressing themselves in a bid to catch that elusive glance, nod or smile from the ravers around them, akin to the orgy-rave scene at Zion in The Matrix Reloaded. 

After evading continuous offers of pills from those who made it past the army of police and sniffer dogs at the entrance, we finally make it into the Hed Kandi tent. Wez Clarke rules the stage laying down a mix any Ibiza regular would be pushed to resist. This tent, available only to VIP paying guests (an extra £17) maintains a mainly  over-30s crowd, who also seem to have plenty of money to spare on plastic surgery and healthy eating - everyone moves like they’re ten years younger. Clarke’s mix of Eurythmics classic ‘Sweet Dreams’ sends out an invisible shockwave through the ground that literally lifts everyone off the floor in unison. From then on the tent continues to fill until Andy Norman’s headliner set which sees people dancing on tip toes at the outskirts.

Despite charging through the roof for food, drink and carnival rides, this sickness-inducing combination fails to scare many away from the funfare banter found at the summit of this grassy park event. Most daring rollercoaster riders probably have little food left after dancing off their energy to Ratpack and Andy C in the Raveology tent. Featuring MCs like Bassman, Dynamite and Skibadee the flow was constant, explosively fast and compelling to the cochlear. A whole day of raving seems like a tall order for even the fittest person but when the drop of Andy C’s electronica drum n bass classic ‘Timewarp Subfocus’ kicks in there is nothing but raw energy in the tent. Over on the main stage disappointment lurks.

After a crowd drawing, rock mixing set from Scratch Perverts which features Nirvana’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’, it’s Fredde Le Grand’s turn. Reflecting the sexed up feel of the festival, the DJ teases the crowd with a foray of foreplay samples that don’t warrant movement as much as baited breath, and once the crowd are suitably seduced by the panting it’s time for the payoff, the drop, the orgasm. But what a flop. The drop is a cop-out as people jump in vain. Fortunately things rapidly improve and just as that early vibes of aggression seep back into the park Fredde lets loose with a fireball of sound and from the ashes of the angry energy creates a phoenix of erotic beauty which rises up in pure sexual energy in the crowd, to the whirlwind of sound that is ‘Put Your Hands Up For Detroit’.

The climax to his success proves so powerful that it outshines headline act Underworld. Ferry Corstein is left to leaf through his CD collection for an extra half hour, proving how a great a DJ like Ferry can be when forced to be spontaneous, but by the time Underworld arrive this sun-battered and sweaty crowd is in need of a livener. Unfortunately, despite two Apple Macs, a laptop, two sets of decks and a personalised lightshow, the ‘90s dance pioneers come up with little original material to awake the dreary crowd, instead relying on classics like ‘Dark And Long’ and ‘Born Slippy’. The tracks are given a resheen by the electro duo but still come over dated and locked in the past, and that perhaps sums up Underworld in their current state.

As the sun sets and the mission to clear up the sea of bottles, baggies and glow sticks begins, the once aggressive crowd moves as one group homeward, cheerful, tactile and bonded by a day of purely living for the music, as they escape into the dark.