Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Dour, Dour, and more Dour.

Dour Festival, a Dour King, and a Dour set of animal abuses.  It is a day to sit in my bathrobe and think "What the hell?"

Dour Festival: We went.  It rained, then it was sunny and hot, and then it rained and rained and rained.  Each time it rained things became very muddy, and as the weekend wore on it became evident that people didn't care if a garbage can was only a few metres away, or even that the cleanup crews had distributed garbage bags and recycling bags for campers ... on the ground it went.  It was pretty gross as far as a camping area went.  Actually, with all the rain, mud, and garbage, it was very gross by the end of the weekend.  Bidonville would be the appropriate word in French.  Slum would be the English one.

Music?  Yes there was tons of that.  Despite the rain I feel I got the value out of my ticket, discovering a new band I like (Ex Makeena), realizing how many of the drum & bass dj's out there don't bother to beat-match anymore (Original Sin was the glorious exception of the d'n'b-heavy Thursday night in this respect, throwing down a great set,) and of course seeing Saul Williams live, which was what I'd really come for.

I'll say that Dour is the festival where I have seen the greatest percentage of unreasonably drunk/high and disorderly persons.  Not menacing, but certainly inconsiderately loud and annoying in their stumbling, screaming antics.  Weighing the good against the bad, I'll say it wasn't bad, I had a good time, I feel the ticket was a decent value, but I'd rather give another festival a shot next year.

A Dour King: The King of the Belgians has just delivered an address to the public, as now is the time of the "Fête Nationale."  After more than 400 days without a government, he's officially pissed off.  He urged the politicians to get their acts together, and (importantly, I think,) urged Belgians to make the efforts needed to adjust their behaviour in a manner that is more mindful and respectful of the cultures and languages that share this country.  Basically he would like everyone to stop acting like douchebags and make the effort to get along, to get over their differences.  And he's right.  But will it happen?  Who knows.

A Dour affair: Who tortures horses?  Someone in the region of Liège, that's who.  Someone or some people have been purposely vicious with random horses at pasture here and there in the region over the past few months, disfiguring them grossly, inflicting great pain, and then leaving the animals to suffer or die before they are discovered by their distressed owners or stable-managers.  It is disgusting to me particularly because I know first hand (I show-jumped for a period as young adult,) how rare it is to chance across a horse that doesn't have a good soul.  Unless a horse is raised quite badly, they are normally very sweet and gentle animals.  While it's true that their size and strength could be intimidating to some (I know someone who finds horses terrifying,) who would go seeking them out to do this?  It's disgusting.

And that has been todays parade of Dour, Dour, and more Dour.  These thoughts along with bad dreams last night and you know why I haven't yet found the motivation to dress myself today.  If you've made it this far, however, you deserve a reward.  Here's what I've been using to re-warm the cockles of my heart.  I hope he beams a little sunshine into your day too.


1 comment:

Mons Ben said...

I looked at the line up for Dour and hardly recognised anyone or anybody. I've also never heard of the acts you mention. How depressing. I'm officially uncool. Damn.

I might do a day at Dour next year, seeing as it's so close. As for camping? Forget it. Done it before, had a good time, but camping is officially for those of an ultra laid back disposition, and those who are able to not moan when the weather gets crap. And that doesn't include me.

My friend went to Glastonbury in 2007 where they had even more of a mudbath than usual. I would have cried and come home. Yes, I know, I am a wimp.

Chitika