Review of 2008
Lowlands is the biggest festival offering from the Dutch. It began at the close of the 60’s, with organisers ‘settling for Pink Floyd’ after being snubbed by Jimmy Hendrix in its debut year. Running annually over an August weekend since 1993, organisers have enticed bands and audiences alike with an atmosphere they describe as ‘Glasto meets Goa.’ They must be doing something right; past years have seen Muse, Eels, The Prodigy and Pulp share the handful of stages over the same weekend.
Entry to the site verges on gladiatorial: tickets in mouths, flags raised – the long road to the entrance, and it really is long, is a spectacle in itself. As a group of frenzied Dutch dragging a fisher price pram full of beer run past a Swedish contingent with an inflatable sex doll, you realise its going to be an interesting weekend.
Seven campsites, all with hot showers and flushing toilets is a welcome change to British festivals that refuse to provide anything more than a hole. By dusk on the Thursday night, the city of Lowlands is complete with its 60,000 residents. Entertainment for the night comes in the form of a giant Duracell battery tent. It’s a surreal experience as the glow stick wielding indie kids happily dance alongside 50-year-old longhaired, leather clad Nightwish fans with Lowlands wristbands up their arm dating back to the early 90’s. It’s not for everyone, but by the following night 10 clubs, several bars, and a handful of cinemas will open.
By Friday morning, the giant red and white chimneys that line the entrance to the music site begin to pump out multicoloured steam to mark the officially beginning of the weekend. First impressions on entry are that the organisers have thought of pretty much everything one could want from a festival. Street theatre groups keep up the laid back atmosphere – with my personal favourite led by a bald Dutch man in a fluorescent pink lycra jumpsuit orchestrating ridiculous numbers of people skipping over one giant rope. Oxfam are represented by nurses giving free hugs, a hippie market and massage tent lies just behind, slush puppy vendors carving drinks straight from a block of artic ice are dotted around, whilst a four-player game of giant tetris, controlled by the movements of the four doors of a car, starts up opposite.
The rest of the festival site set up is, in comparison to the top British festivals, tiny. The entrance to the furthest away stage takes a few minutes and this undoubtedly helps Lowlands retain its intimacy. Coupled with the friendly Dutch population, the atmosphere is leagues ahead of any British festival. With ten stages in total, only one of which is completely uncovered, the timetable typically billed as alternative and progressive has something for every taste.
Although the line up this year didn’t quite live up to previous high standards – highlights included the haunting Sigur Ros, given the longest set of any band of the weekend, the typically spectacular stage show of Flaming Lips, the frenetic atmosphere of Gogol Bordello and the ever humble Laura marling. I could try and get away without mentioning them, but the Sex Pistols crawl their way into the review for all the wrong reasons. Johnny Rotten’s racist remarks didn’t sit well with the chilled Dutch crowd – the characteristic ensuing arrogant performance was verging on embarrassing, to such an extent that Asakusa Jinta, an obscure Japanese band drew a crowd that far overfilled their small tent. Despite the incredible atmosphere including a complete lack of violence, reliable top line-ups, and a full theme park next-door, Lowlands remains somewhat of a hidden gem on the festival circuit. Half reluctant to even write this review in the vague hope it will retain its elusive status, Lowlands does deserve to be seen by more. When the festival ticket and return flights from anywhere in the country amount to less than a single Reading ticket – it is baffling why the British invasion has held off.
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