BlastSpace popped along to Oxegen 2007 and got some kick ass shots of the bands and the madness!!

We've just got back from the greatest rock n roll festival on the planet and what a festival!

We've taken over 500 photos of the gig which are now up on www.blastspace.com/photos.

Check out the review of the weekend below from one of our BlastSpace members..

 

Oxegen Review

Its 9 O' Clock Friday night. Literally hours before the biggest and most anticipated music event if the year, I receive a phonecall offering that which couldn't be got. After all other attempts to get my hands around what
had quickly become as easy to find as an inviting portaloo had downrightly failed, I immediately snapped at the chance of a ticket. The accompanied V.I.P status was an added bonus I only really understood the fortune of
afterwards.

 

The ensuing rush to the nearest Dunnes for last minute Oxegen wellies produced no results, so I was paired up with a pair of old steel-toed builders Wellington boots from the garden shed. In hindsight the amount of preparations and supplies made ready that night was utterly ridiculous and most ended up being haplessly discarded for my own comfort

The excitement spilled onto the mobile phone as eager friends who had decided to head early and spend an extra night camping were called and informed of my inevitable presence in their company. The reaction I received from most hampered my excitement slightly. Many were simply mortified as the reality of camping with nearly 80,000 other excited festival-goers had  finally become apparent.

Perhaps an ominous sight to be faced with first thing on Saturday morning was that of the disgruntled and frankly fed-up people we noticed whilst waiting in the slow line of traffic leading up to the gate. Clearly some had
already had enough and were slowly making their way from the festival weighed down with their many belongings hours before the music had even started.

 

The glimpses of the campsites I was able to catch whilst waiting to enter were slightly breathtaking. This being my first festival I was quite unprepared for the sheer size of the whole event. After acquiring a makeshift parking spot, the tickets were collected and the various requisite V.I.P bands donned.

Upon entering probably the first thing I noticed was the mud. A lot of it. Everywhere. A return to the car to
exchange my battered Vans for wellies was in order. After that though, my Oxegen began.

I started with a slow trudge towards the event area. The wellies would take some getting used to (blisters would certainly ensue) but as I turned the corner to the main site and the Green Room stage came into view, I soon
forgot all about that minor discomfort. Thousands of people wandering about, shouting, singing, screaming, eating, laughing, joking, pushing, and hugging, all caked in mud.

 

Michael Moloney‚s Director were entertaining their home crowd on the mainstage, while Jack Penate displayed his loose-limbed magic for his fans in the Green Room tent. The sheer scale of the whole festival was astounding already, and I could only see two of the 5 stages.

Wandering about for a while, it soon became apparent that I would not be able to find anyone I knew, and the task seemed somewhat daunting. Dodgy signal on the mobile didn‚t help matters, but luckily enough I was
eventually able to get in touch with a friend so I made my way to the blue campsite.

Although apparently the better campsite to be in, "Whatever you do, do not go anywhere NEAR the red campsite!!" the sprawl of tents and mud looked quite disastrous and not very easily negotiable. It took a good 30 minutes of wandering through makeshift homes, stepping on tents, poles, empty cans, clothes, shoes, sleeping bags, even stepping over people in various stages of consciousness at some points to reach the specific tent. All this only to be rushed quickly back on my way by eager Fratellis fans.

The smells of the festival were strong and vastly varied. From the many set up shops and stalls wafted the appetizing smell of traditional fish 'n' chips,the smoothie bars brought the mouth-watering fruity flavours, and the
oriental stall added spicy aromas. The many unwashed campers left their own, unique, trails, whilst the many portaloos hardly helped matters with the stench.

The pit was decidedly the best place from which to enjoy any band, although
the queue looked frighteningly large. The pit queues for the weekend seemed hopeless cases, so with a small amount of blagging, one or two hoodie swaps and much flashing of wrists, four of us managed to jump a somewhat angry queue and walk straight in. This, somewhat disappointingly to us, though I‚m sure to the joy of all others not so lucky enough to have the right wristband, we never managed again.

From there we witnessed Jon Fratelli being hit in the face with an orange (to which he understandably didn‚t take very kindly to) and a stunning set from Tennessee‚s finest, Kings Of Leon. Later that evening crowd favourites Snow Patrol were received amazingly playing recent hits such as Signal Fire and Chasing Cars and also delving into their back catalogue of festival sing-along gems.

Getting into somewhat of a festival spirit we discovered a smoothie bar that seemed to be secretly (though for what reason I couldn't understand) selling watermelons. Deciding this a fine way to dine we indulged ourselves.

With Muse up next we decided it was time for another attempt at blagging our way as close as possible. The pit was full, no luck there, so armed with a small, cheap and cheerful Christmas present of a digital camera, we decided to try our luck as media photographers. Despite making our way to the side of the stage, suspicions were obviously aroused by the fact that we neither possessed the €2000 professional camera our new-found peers had, nor the proper wristbands (something which the original security guards failed to notice).Apparently a member of the MCD staff was called so we rapidly made ourselves scarce.

Coming on just after midnight Muse delivered a fantastic spectacle, front man Matt Bellamy showcasing his unique talents and providing a fitting end to the night.

Camping seeming particularly unappealing, I headed home to my own bed for the night, a comfort most if not all of those who remained on the site overnight would dream of.

The next morning I did not awake refreshed or rejuvenated as I may have hoped but tired aching and feeling quite the worse for wear. Sundays line-up could not keep me too my bed though and I arrived in just in time for Bloc Party.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse during the night and the thunder was only drowned out by the songs of sunshine from Luke Pritchard and his Kooks. Though little did the weather affect festival goers, mud soaked
raingear and ponchos aplenty, the mud might have, and on more than one occasion I was rooted to the spot and left bent over tugging my feet free - we‚re not moving from here!! I CANT move from here!

A new sport involving leaping upon inflatable chairs and sliding along in rivers of mud soon became a festival favourite though I personally didn't quite fancy partaking.

I managed luckily to juggle the schedules and catch Pete Doherty's Babyshambles on the Stage 2/ NME Stage and then sprint to the Pet Sounds tent for a moving performance from Bright Eyes. Minor panic occurred midway
when a leak in the tent sent water cascading down upon Conor Oberst's monitors but it all added to the atmosphere.

As the sun went down behind the Main Stage its penultimate performers Razorlight put on an epic show leaving it up to the Killers to finish of the night spectacularly.

A few Lightsabers were brought out for Daft Punk's headline set on the Stage 2/ NME Stage and there was the occasional dance-off for those who could manage to move in the now shin-deep mud.

Despite the late night cold the ice cream van seemed to be doing good business even handing out free flakes for lucky couples.  Getting things together to leave proved harder than expected and attempting to find a tent in the dark that wasn't actually there anymore didn't prove the easiest task.

The worst of the mud was experienced in the adventure that getting out to the busses proved but eventually we managed. The bus home provided quite a lovely, exhausted sleep, but it was the prising off the wellies and falling into bed that proved the perfect end to the weekend.