Once upon a time England was a awash with provincial violence, rogue music movements, illegal rave gatherings and political incorrectness. These tenets of everyday life could be no better demonstrated than at our annual music festivals, notably Glastonbury and Reading, which provided a lawless oasis of loud music, Olympic drug taking and Greenpeace grooming tents. The audiences were the best and worst - a microcosm of a schizophrenic world that dealt out love and hate like a pack of rabid dogs. This meritocratic mosh-pit wielded the ability to make or break a band, and tempted many ill suited acts out of their comfort zones in the quest to multiply their stardom. Radiohead were hailed upon by the weather, then hailed as winners by the soggy stoic Glastonbury mass in 1997’s downpour. 50 Cent’s Reading downpour, however, was of a different nature
A booking discrepancy had sandwiched him between Green Day and Placebo at Reading rock festival - a beaming wedge of Compton bling between the greasy haired petula oiled grungers. With a career in overdrive and the world at his shiny sneakers, a Dickensian reality check was applied with unrelenting aplomb. He stood there being pelted by bottles of excrement - the village idiot in front of a baying crowd, shackled by avarice and his agents unforgivable oversight. 50 Cent went from the hubris of being shot with real bullets (he was a self diagnosed gangster) to the humiliation of a festival drive-by - showered with clagnuts and hot piss.
Kanye West’s headline appointment has caused much speculation of a similar fate. But as his team clamour to accessorise biohazard jumpsuits to protect him from a code brown protest, they can rest assured he won’t suffer the same fate. Here’s some reasons why it won’t happen: