Supersweet

Bestival 2009

The Aliens

In the bright white Saturday morning, thousands have exchanged their dew-ridden outer-shells into eye-catching silver constructions, from the edible variety of Space Invader crisps, Orbit and Starburst, to the Area 51 aliens that chase after you after one sniff of fear. The duplicate costumes altered any individuality to a vision of alien races, even the pun-inspired Shooting Stars (celeb-imitating punters holding guns) showed a group effort in the costume invasion. Saturday’s activities appear to the climax the cosmic-infested weekender simply with the glamorous array. (ALIENS: + 2)

Rewinding a day back to Italian electronic house duo, The Bloody Beetroots who finally fit in a costume-clad crowd with their trademark cosmic Venom masks, juice each dancer’s sweat with screaming beats in the claustrophobic Bollywood tent, all to drip at the entrance as a territorial mark of success. Swirling in reverse to the Soulwax dusk; heaving rays of ‘Miserable Girl’ crash into the reckless leaps of the crowd with the TV-headed man remaining unnoticed in his torso-wiggling lurches. So far any alien assimilated individual, from trance infused bands to the blonde waif silver girls, who readily paint my face (despite their alien confession to suck-the-fun) arrive in unavoidable camaraderie to the cosmic cause. (ALIENS: +3)

I found myself disenchanted by the frustratingly elusive Metronomy with jutting celestial beats who pulled their pinnacle dawn breaking, three-am slot to an unsettling early afternoon show at the Red Bull Music Acedemy: Mission Transmission tent, losing countless fans, major Alien Fail! SS resumed our stalking of Micachu and The Shapes on Saturday, thankfully uplifted by their Star Trek attire and their incessant playing amongst their crumbling pointed ears. Scratching and cawing through their Jewellery album tracks, the band cork out new inventions creating the following speedy act Jack Penate into a whistling undertone. Heartened by the winning alien influenced sounds, including the re-assembled Kraftwerk’s staggering futuristic set; I took on the electronic night arriving at the epileptic lightshow finale with Casiokids’ two-am show. (ALIENS: +3)

Making a Sunday discovery, SS unravels further alien plots first with youth rockabilly band Kitty, Daisy and Lewis. Known for reviving 1950’s glamour with hip-busting energy we discovered their creative flair is as outdated as their inspirational ideas. Answering with lip curling and callous attitude, the trio admits ignorance of the space theme taking prominence the whole weekend, appearing rather rude, or (yes, it’s conspiracy time) a cover-up for actually being ALIENS! Watching the band enslave the PR agent who desperately runs around after their demands for water and cigarettes, I pry into what alien they would be, receiving a very slyly boorish reply from Kitty “What type of aliens are they…I suppose we could use some funky tinfoil in there?”...bah, as if they didn’t know! (ALIENS: -1)

Wary of the alien youths, I marvelled if the hair-sprayed doused band could fend off attacks this summer, so Lewis irritably retorted “me and my friends got our tents in the artist camping, and these fucking c*** broke in and nicked shit from our tent, twice...Then a guy who was a fat mother fucker chased after us with a mallet, and then his friend with a chair leg. We were shitting it…they had a machete”. While Lewis deviously laughs that “They didn’t really have a machete”, I hastily learn their sinister easiness to slip into cunning lies, so maybe the obese mallet chaser must have discovered their alien identity! (ALIENS: - 2)

Stealing away from the juvenile youths, I sacrificed my last remaining hours at Bestival to the lingering alien techno-pulses, from squarepusher’s rhythmic experimental fusion, to the shooting flames of the grand pavilion within the Bollywood Field, leaving me spellbound by the blurring movements brewed by the dancing DJ silhouette. (ALIENS: +1)

Words: Gemma Dempster
Photography: Eleanor Harvey and Gemma Dempster