Whitby rawkers ride the wave at Warped Tour
July 24, 2008 - 04:30
By William McGuirk
At the Vans Warped Tour last Saturday, standing inches deep in water underneath the merch tent of Protest The Hero, amid disintegrating cardboard boxes full of saturated Tees and hoodies, it occurred to me what a whack load of crap today's music fans have to put up with.
If they didn't get burned out on the asphalt of The Flats at Arrow Hall, up behind Pearson Airport, during the day, they got drenched to the core by the early evening downpour that may yet be discussed in Sunday school circles.
The bits of clothing the girls wore, skimpy, brightly coloured, clung to them. The idea that cloth should provide protection on some level lost in the purchase and the guys as one realized the importance of the proper marriage between belts and jeans heavy with water.
At some point it was best to discard them altogether and just walk in the cold rain in the altogethers or at least as close as is legal. Which some chose.
Protest The Hero has been travelling the tour and this was its hometown stop. Welcome to the Great Wet North; at least it wasn't snowing.
The rain was as excited as the fans to see PTH when the band took to the Ernie Ball stage after 6 p.m. The wind whipped up, the rain worsened and to make a wet scene wetter, the stage was set in the path of the wind. It's a wonder no one was electrocuted, the dad in me thought.
As wave after wave washed over Whitby's rawkers, wave after wave of kids washed up over the security barrier, the flotsam and jetsam of the young riding the arms and heads of their peers beneath in the mosh pit. Hundreds of kids braved the deluge, singing and dancing in the rain.
Making the best of it, for really, how often do we get to give up complete control to the elements in our usual button-down world? And what's a rock show for except to immerse oneself wholeheartedly in a crowd and give it up for the heroes; the occasional slippery debauchery of it is what makes the memory and it's enough to carry one though the dry week of work ahead. Isn't that the point of theatre, to open oneself up to the random, the unexpected?
Discussing the show afterwards with bassist Arif Miradolbaghi, he said that festivals can get tiresome after a while, playing in the blazing heat and when they see such an enthusiastic crowd taking on the weather and winning, it's inspiring to them and it pushes them to a better performance. They chose to enjoy the singularity of the event.
Lead vox Rody Walker seemed to be even more primal as he thumped his bared chest and screamed back at the world, almost in an epic duel as to who could roar louder, singer or the storm. The eternal battle; Man versus Nature.
Arif spoke with me while holding court with some fans. He says he enjoys the community of a festival but that the band uses its time to rehearse and practise. He has been able to catch some of the acts; one a Japanese ska, Oreskaband, has become a fave.
He's been catching up on some light summer reading as well. He recommends Theodore Levin's The Hundred Thousand Fools Of God, a book he's rereading. A fool of God is a Sufi term for an ascetic. A polar opposite of their wet fans who were having the devil of a time with their Heroes.
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