|
September 5, 1970 DISC
and MUSIC ECHO –
 I.O.W. Special Report
The third Isle Of
Wight Festival of Music, billed as “the great event,” has
lived up to its name, there will never be another. As
nearly half the estimated 600,000 people at East Afton Farm
pitched camp on “Devastation Hill,” overlooking the site,
the festival’s pressman said: We will never organise
another Isle Of Wight pop festival, or another festival
anywhere. We are all very disillusioned”. At press time it
was estimated that Fiery Creations, promoters of the
festival were £92,000 in debt, with over £20,000 lost in
damage to property on Sunday alone.
Says Ron Foulk: “I
suppose the shout for free music was inevitable, but the
spirit which created this festival, a festival of
convention, has now destroyed it”. And many of those
backstage at the weekend confirmed that not only was this
the last Isle Of Wight festival, but the last big pop
festival in Britain.
“You’ve torn down
the walls, now you’re tearing down the restaurants,” said
Rikki Farr at 10:40 p.m. on Sunday. “For the good people,
goodbye. For the rest of you, just go to hell! I am finished”.
This was just a sample of the “aggro” and tension in the
air throughout the long weekend, and came just before the
festival’s climactic finish with Jimi Hendrix and Joan
Baez.
Tension, often of nerve-shattering intensity, had
been building between audience and organizers throughout
the five days. Rikki Farr, compeer of the whole programme
and, with brothers Ron and Ray Foulk, promoter of the
event, left the stage with tears in his eyes.
But there was peace
and goodwill here too, and almost 80 hours of the best
music in the world.
World’s
top talent
for two bob a head
The finest talent
in the world for just two shillings a head, that in cold
simple fact was the financial truth of the Isle Of Wight
Festival. For a weekend, three pounds a ticket, there were
over 30 top-line acts, and that doesn’t include the two
free warm up days. Musically: This
festival provided the biggest number of top world acts ever
assembled in one place at one time. It has never been done
before, and it will certainly never be done again. But why? Why did
what should have been a runaway success, for artists,
audience and promoters alike, ultimately collapse in
alleged financial disaster, with a tidal wave of bad
feelings between the organisers and the fans.
Almost half
the fans had pitched camp on the hill known as “Desolation
Hill” beside the site, ignoring all discomfort and happy in
the knowledge that they had beaten the “bureaucrats,” to
enjoy five days without paying a penny. Thoughts of
barricading off the hillside were out of the question and
even on Friday morning Ron Foulk was prophesying a vast
loss. But, this in itself was not the trouble. Did the real
trouble come from what Hampshire Chief of Police – Douglas
Osmond described as a “lunatic fringe” an estimated 10,000
militants, mainly French we were told, whose sole objective
seemed to be to break down all the barriers and turn the
festival into a free-for-all?
Even when they
eventually had their way at 3:50 p.m. on Sunday, when the
arena gates were opened in an effort to avoid further
damage to property, this “fringe” was still not satisfied.
“If the music is
now free, why isn’t the food,” they cried, and so vented
their feelings by demolishing rows of festival shops and
refreshment stalls. Or were organizers to blame themselves?
Did they aim too high, book too many artists in an attempt
to make this festival the biggest ever. Certainly, for the
fans who were anything less than open-air veterans, the
experience of sitting in a cold field for up to 20 a day
and night must have been enough to fray many tempers.
Maybe, Rikki Farr, admired as he certainly must be for the
absolutely phenomenal amount of work and organization he
and his fellow “Fiery Creators” put into this festival,
could not achieve the communication he wanted between
himself and the crowd.
Maybe he was wrong
to expect to make a lot of money out of so much hardship:
maybe some of his emotional outpourings stirred up the
wrong emotions, but was it right to make him the object of
so much abuse? The answers may never be known, but the
lesson of the pop festival has been learned. This was quite
definitely the greatest musical event Britain has ever
seen.
But now the
festival bubble has burst and never again will anyone in
this country (England) attempt to achieve what has proved
to be the impossible.
Festival Scene
Incredible
difference between Roger Chapman (the madman on stage and
Roger Chapman the quiet gent off stage. Giant “Canvas City”
inflated sausage marquee provided discothèque music
non-stop throughout the festival. The Moody Blues
appropriately dedicated their song “Melancholy Man” from
their “Question Of Balance album to compeer Rikki Farr.
Amazing job of work
done by disc-jockeys, Jeff Dexter and Andy Dunkley, who
seemed to be alive and working 25 hours a day. Terry
Blackburn one of many “surprise” faces that we didn’t
expect to see in the press-enclosure. Emerson, Lake and
Palmer may regret using the festival as their major debut,
seeing that the general consensus of opinion was that they
were not well received. It was easy to spot the
enthusiastic stars of the festival, which included:
The Who, Tony Joe
White, Family, and Pentangle among the artists who both
arrived early stayed late, and bothered to go front stage
to see their competitors. Then comes the question, why did
so many artists insist on playing for so long, knowing the
number of people who were to follow them? To bring Sly and
the Family Stone specially from America and then put them
on at breakfast time was ludicrous. Then again, it was Tiny
Tim’s rendition of “Land of Hope and
Glory brought out a feeling of national pride in the
audience as they were singing along and waving peace signs.
FESTIVAL
HAPPENINGS
Wednesday: A
security dog savages the arm of an engineer and the owner
of a nearby private golf club is aghast to find campers
merrily pitching tents on his sixth green!
Thursday:
Malnutrition strikes the fans and the Chief of Police
offers an amnesty over drugs. The self-styled “White
Panthers” storm the arena turnstiles in an attempt to turn
this into a free festival, and the crowd turns ugly when
the sound is turned down after midnight-apparently part of
the festival agreement.
Friday:
Hitch-hikers and walkers span the 25-mile route from Ryde
to Freshwater, yet some people are already walking back to
Ryde on their way home. The ten-guinea
V.I.P. enclosure sparsely populated is torn down by angry
fans who serge up to the edge of the front press enclosure. A hand grenade is
thrown at the ticket office and Rikki Farr is taken home in
a state of nervous and physical exhaustion. Relief
organisations recognise the needs of campers on
“Devastation Hill” and attempt to lay on field telephones.
There are rumours
of a typhoid plague sweeping the site. A militant agitator
is given the microphone to proclaim: “If this is for peace
there must be no fences”.
Saturday:
Organization of the music begins to fall apart, and the
show meant to end at midnight, eventually finishes at 8:30
a.m. on Sunday. Ron Foulk announces
that he needs another ninety two thousand pounds in
administration fees just to break even, and there’s rumours
that some of the top acts may not appear. Onstage the
messages from and for distressed people grow longer by the
hour. There’s temporary
panic when one of the giant lighting and sound towers is in
danger of collapsing from the weight of people climbing up
for a better view.
Sunday: The
superbly organized food and drink supplies begin to run out
and “pirate” traders move in, selling same at inflated
prices. The non-paying fans are let into the arena for
free, but still the barricades are broken down. Pentangle’s act is
interrupted “We’re now more naked than you” cries a hoarse
Rikki Farr. We’re open to
creditors”. And then as an afterthought, to try and restore
goodwill: “I want you to
stand up and hold your hands together in friendship” which
we do in the arena, on the hill, in the press enclosure,
and onstage.
Joan Baez: Gives a
press conference and denies rumours that she is being paid
twelve thousand pounds, that she is living on a yacht, and
that she is fighting with Leonard Cohen. A fire scare starts onstage after Jimi
Hendrix, sends the press into panic and has water tenders
rushing to the scene. But it’s only flairs which some
militants had placed on the roof above the stage, then they
throw newsletters into the press arena. He roof smoulders
all through Joan Baez’s act. By midday the queue for busses home had
grown to three miles, stretching right around the arena.
There are reports that one person queuing has slashed his
wrists, which brings fourth the dry-statistic – one person
commits suicide. Welfare organisations express extreme
concern at those hundreds of fans likely to be stranded on
the island without food or money. Rikki Farr has had enough and vanishes
without a trace. The roads for miles around are strewn with
bodies, walking, stumbling or just sleeping exhausted in
ditches.
Monday: After five brilliantly sunny
days, the “Isle Of Wight Festival Of Music 1970” awakes to
… rain.
Festival Report by: Gavin Petrie and
David Hughes for Disc Special Edition.
Wild, tight Chicago and rocking Procol
Harum heat up the island's cold night
Wednesday and Thursday – Having two free
days was a wise move on the part of someone.
Firstly, it gave the ever-growing crowd a pleasant pastime in the sunshine and secondly, it enabled
the superhuman posse of technicians to sort out the giant
banks of speakers. The highlights were David Bromberg,
backing guitarist to Rosalie Sorrells, who played some
incredibly slow, almost talking blues; The Groundhogs,
featuring some really excellent bass guitar work from Pete
Cruickshank and the splendid “Eccentric Man” from their,
“Thank Christ For The Bomb” album; Supertramp who, despite
confessing themselves that their act was far from perfect,
fully justified the faith placed in them by others,
particularly on their version of “All Along The Tower” and
“Black Widow,” who have at last dispensed with their Black
Magic image and replaced it with some really fine tight
music.
With the organizers managing complete
control over the time limits of these lesser-known acts,
the music came thick and fast, yet ended on time. Many acts
were forced to stop while running repairs were made on the
speakers and other equipment, but the promise was for good
and efficient days ahead.
Friday: And with the two free warm up
days over, it was Fairfield Parlour to open the first day
of the festival proper, and a day that was to spotlight the
heavier sounds, and a day which started at about 2:00 p.m.
and ended at 4:00 a.m. the following morning with Melanie
due to have been last on the bill, fast asleep backstage!
There were three notable highlights to
the day. Chicago, who impressed with their musical
professionalism; Taste, who impressed with Rory Gallagher’s
aggression; and the amazing and unique Voices of East
Harlem, who slayed a very cold 2:00 a.m. crowd with their
raw gospel soul. The Voices are an incredible line up of
black kids of various ages, looking much like much like
several sets of Jackson Five’s dressed in “Dead End Kid”
denim and punching out that wild soulful, gospel sound,
that may not mean much here generally yet, but after this
festival, well, you just wait and see!
The ideal act for that time in the
morning, with an overall sound really filling the air, as
did the roar for more, when they eventually left the stage,
after an incredible version of John Fogerty’s “Proud
Mary”.
Taste, really is Rory Gallagher though
Richie McCracken and John Wilson provide excellent bass and
drums accompaniment and are rewarded by the occasional
solo. But it’s Gallagher, swaying back and forth, with hair
flying and mouth open in apparent ecstasy at finding note
sequences maybe even he didn’t think possible, who leads
the trio on and on. One of the highlights was Rory’s
bottleneck solo on “Gamblin´ Blues,” and it was no surprise
they came back and back again for three encores. The sun
was coming down in the late afternoon and the mood and
temperature was right for the Irish band who, until now,
have remained sadly underrated in Britain, but no longer is
that the case.
Chicago Transit Authority: Were the
bill-toppers, and wisely presented half-way through the
evening before hands were too cold or ears too blasted.
They really are a force to be reckoned with, thoroughly
professional yet able to let roar without once conceding to
quality. It’s the brass section that really makes Chicago’s
sound, sax man Walt Perry who also doubles splendidly on
flute. James Pankow is on trombone and Lee Loughnane is on
trumpet. Those three really blow a storm, both together and
individually, without once hitting a bad note. Pankow seems
to be the band’s driving force, screaming words of
encouragement whenever his mouth is free! Jim also wrote
the long ”Ballet” which is based around their “Make Me
Smile” single. Their song
“25 or 6 to 4” was the natural closer,
allowing us to hear in full Terry Kath’s guitar solo, and
the band obliged with a quick encore of, “I’m A Man”.
September 5, 1970 – Chicago About The
I.O.W. Festival – Disc and Music Echo
Chicago flew in on Wednesday morning for
the Isle of Wight Festival. The band was shattered by two
days without sleep, at the end of a three-month non-stop
tour schedule, and undecided whether they were looking
forward to the music festival or not. Pete Cetera, “We’re
visual and don’t leap about, so unless the sound equipment
is really first-class, we don’t seem to come over very
well. “In fact, this is probably the last festival we’ll
ever play. Their coming to an end in America. I really
don’t like having to play to an audience of more than
10,000 people. “Apart from anything else, the security
precautions are so stiff that there’s always a huge blank
area, between the stage and the crowd. We feel remote from
the audience and unable to give our best”.
Honest stuff, but Chicago are reputed as
an honest, straight talking group. They’ve ridden the waves
of criticism and have emerged along side of Blood, Sweat
and Tears, as the most powerful and original musical force
in the United States. “The main accusation was that we are
pretentious,” says Peter. “”People said it was pretentious
for a new band to start their recording career with a
double album. Even the record company were very worried
about it. They were even more worried about the second
double album. They told us maybe the first sold on a
gimmick basis. “Initially, our reputation spread around by
word of mouth. No one played the Chicago Transit Authority
album, for about three or four months, so we relied on
reports of live appearances to keep our name going”. Did
the pretentious tag worry them? “I just laughed,” says
organist Robert Lamm. “We knew we could not give the public
a fair cross-section of what we were like on one record
album, so it had to be a double album. What’s the logic in
calling that pretentious? Maybe if the group had only one
writer, we could have been accused of being long-winded.
But the fact that most of us write, and all write in
different styles, makes a double-album a must”.
Bandwagon: It seems very strange that,
following the enormous success of Chicago and Blood, Sweat
and Tears, there has not been a flood of groups adding
brass sections and jumping on the bandwagon. “But there
has,” says Peter, “though maybe they haven’t been
successful enough for you to have heard of them. The “Ides
of March had one hit here, and your band seems to have
modified itself almost completely like Blood, Sweat and
Tears. “At least the brass boom means more opportunity for
good horn players. Five years ago, people studying brass
instruments only, had a few outlets. Jim Pankow, out
trombonist, was in a jazz band, Lee Loughnane, our
trumpeter, was working with an Irish show-band, and Walt
Perry, our saxophone man, was working with a rock group”.
Rock `n´ Roll, in fact, is a subject that Robert Lamm feels
very strongly about. “I listen to the rock and roll of ten
years ago, and it makes me laugh. It’s totally unnecessary
to revive these songs and release them on singles.
The best thing that can be done with
Golden Oldies, apart from to bury them, is to issue them in
two record sets, in a mail order catalogue. That way people
can still buy them, but we don’t have to hear them on the
radio”. Robert’s other sore topic is, American Radio.
“Radio in America is governed by big white bosses who know
nothing at all about music. They decide what the American
public shall, or shall not hear.
That’s why we (Chicago) were forced to
release edited singles”.
Article by David Hughes
An Aside: Earlier arrival’s – Frank
Collins had passed one of the greatest test of his life,
convincing the largest crowd yet assembled at a British pop
festival, that hit single group’s are able to compete
musically with their heavier friends. “See The Lord” was
the song that broke the ice and had almost the entire crowd
up on its feet clapping, shouting and singing – no little
achievement !
Lighthouse: A thirteen strong Canadian
outfit, who managed to beat the Customs Officials and get
the right work permits, and gave out some very freaky, wild
and jazz-based numbers, such as: “Let’s Stand Alone
Together”. But, maybe even for such a vast crowd, they were
way too loud, for it was the quieter stars who were to
steal the festival.
Tony Joe White:
Appeared at an unfortunate moment in the early evening
hours, right after an angry section of the crowd had voiced
its disapproval of the ten guinea for the VIP enclosure by
throwing Coke cans and other missiles in that direction.
But the large, beaming, calm man from the deep south
ignored the initial quiet reception and after each number,
the audience warmed more and more towards him. He kicked
off with John Lee Hooker’s “Boom Boom” and getting an
amazing sound from simple guitar and drums, using wah-wah
petal and vibrato. Someone leapt onstage to say how
wonderful everybody was, and Tony Joe stepped back, to let
him make his speech, and then added dryly: “Ya all must be
havin´ an election here” “Groupie Girl” and “Polk Salad
Annie” clinched his success and he encored modestly with
his new hit single, “Save Your Sugar For Me”.
Family:
Yet to fail
to please an audience, once again had the groovers-grooving
and the freaks- freaking, and brought a new warmth for
those beginning to feel a chill in the night air. Their secret is
that they remain completely unique, drawing from no one but
themselves, and always creating new and different sounds,
both electronically and acoustically. Roger Chapman makes
the group with his frenzied and often frightening stage
antics. As he wanders around during instrumental breaks,
glaring like a mad axe man before pouncing on the
microphone and wrecking havoc with it. From sheer creation
and power. With Poly Palmer on vibes, organ and flute must
also be one of the country’s most underrated musicians.
Procol Harum:
Followed, well past midnight, facing a giant spotlight, the
newly christened “Devastation Hill” dotted with a few fires
and even a few flames inside the main arena (so that’s where
the bathroom doors ended up – as firewood) ! All this made
Gary Brooker. Who was sitting at his grand piano, look
pretty incongruous. Sadly, the band was were very
un-together at the start. A lot of Procol’s songs, have the
“Whiter Shade Of Pale” approach, but not that lift. Songs
from the, “Salty Dog” album brought the most reaction, the
title track eventually getting them the normal encore.
”It’s too cold to play anything slow,” said Brooker as an
aside, so they launched into the good old rock n´ roll,
still guaranteed to get everybody going. “Move On Down The
Line” – “High School Confidential” – and “Lucille” and
another heavy band had won the day, thanks to Jerry Lee
Lewis and Little Richard!
Cactus: Ended the
first long day’s night. The quartet of ex – Vanilla Fudge
men Tim Bogert (bass) and Carmine Appacie (drums) and
friends Jim McCarty (guitar) and Rusty Day Vocals and
Harmonica) – played loud and heavy, but honestly, was it
anything new, and was it worth staying up until 3:00 a.m.
to hear? Maybe the crowd also thought not, for after their
set it was called a day and Melanie good-naturedly agreed
to miss a booking in Holland and play the following night
instead.
Saturday:
The day
started late and ended even later, so at dawn on Sunday to
be precise, and with Sly and the Family Stone exalting “I
Want To Take You Higher” right before breakfast and on an
empty stomach no less! But, Sunday presented two of the
festival’s highlight acts.
John Sebastian and
Ten Years After. The day belonged to them. Chalk and Cheese
on the music scene, but together earning the most delicious
applause of the eighteen hour day.
John Sebastian:
Was
the first artists to appear, and well after the alleged
11:30 a.m. start time and it went straight on to appease a
very tense audience. “Do You Believe In Magic” is one of
his old songs, and in reply, we certainly do. No one else
had arrived, so John had all the time in the world; nearly
two hours to sing “ She’s A Lady” – “Daydream” – “Jug Band
Music” – “Darling Be Home Soon” – “Younger Girl” – and many
many more. Each song was linked with ecstatic shouts of
“Out of Sight”- “Oh You’re Really Too Much” – and it was
only unfortunate that the quality of his music slipped
temporarily when he was joined by, old fellow Spoonful man, Zal Yanovsky for “Blues In The Bottle” and “Bald Headed
Lena”.
He will be remembered as the great hit of the Isle Of Wight
Festival!
Joni Mitchell:
Following the runaway success of John Sebastian, it looked
at times like disaster for frail and pale Joni Mitchell was
inevitable. She was obviously very tense and nervous to be
playing to such a vast audience. She was cautiously
dressed, appropriately in a big yellow dress. She started
on guitar with “ The Midway” and went halfway through the
song, “Chelsea Morning” before deciding, “I don’t feel like
singing that song so much”. So, she moved over
to the grand piano and then the trouble started. First
someone rushed on stage with an “important announcement”.
Which he was not allowed to broadcast, and that got a large
section of the crowd annoyed, and Joni was left bewildered
and upset in the middle. As she struggled through “Real
Good For Free” – and pleaded with photographers to stop
pestering her. While twice she tried to play her “Woodstock
Song” and twice she was stopped from doing so. Calls for a
doctor, and other screaming and shouting. But, this was not
Woodstock, and there can never be a comparison to that one
time only festival. “It was almost all
over”, she said, “you must realize that, although I’m very
happy to be playing here, it takes a lot of hard work for
me to get it together for you…so please, help me with some
support”. She cried in a breaking stressful voice, and she
almost had to leave the stage at that point. “Woodstock”
was successfully completed and it was obvious that the
majority of the audience was fully behind her appeal. She
took the dulcimer for use on “California” and then switched
back to her guitar to end her set with her hit “Big Yellow
Taxi” and “Both Sides Now”. This undoubtedly, was the most
emotional performance of the entire weekend.
Emerson, Lake and
Palmer: They were making their second appearance before
this audience, They were
ill-prepared, ill-rehearsed and yet never the less, full of
all the excitement we expected and loved in the Nice. With
Keith Emerson still the most exciting keyboardist to watch
in all of rock and roll. Being backed up by Carl Palmer on
drums and vocals, the trio has a great future ahead of
them. While much of their set was taken up with the title
track from their second album, “Pictures At An Exhibition”.
But, the best reception was for the old “Rondo” which was
now complete with 1812 overture cannons!
The Doors: Were a
relative failure, largely due to the nihilistic attitude of
the brand new and very non-sexy Jim Morrison. Who seemed
not to care one iota that a half a million people were
staying up half the night just to hear him perform. Justifiably, the
audience gave him and the rest of the band a very cold
reception, and in return, The Doors exited without an
encore.
The Who: Followed
The Doors at 3:30 a.m. with “Can’t Explain” – “Young Man
Blues” and the inevitable “Tommy” which is still getting
riotous applause whenever played.
Melanie:
She broke
the dawn chorus with a charming selection of songs from her
two albums.
This ended Saturday
at 8:30 a.m. Sunday morning.
Sunday:
Amazingly,
the sky was still blue, the world was still turning and the
sun was still shining brightly. Maybe the gods weren’t
smiling on the unfortunate promoters, but they were
certainly smiling about the 3,000 sun-worshipping music
lovers covering the fields and up on the hill. As Sunday
represented the “Top of the Artists Bill” which included:
Joan Baez, the unique Moody Blues, the incredible Ian
Anderson and many more.
Jethro Tull, now
the five man line up were simply incredible, and not just
musically. Ian Anderson was
one of the few people onstage apparently unconcerned about
the thousands upon thousands of faces watching him. “Just
like the Marquee, only bigger,” he commented. In fact his “in
between” comments were as entertaining as his music, even
if sometimes verging on the obscene, and he managed to hold
the audience through tuning up and instrumental problems.
If anyone wonders why Jethro Tull needed a fifth member,
they only have to listen to the musical conversations
between Ian Anderson’s flute and John Evan’s piano, and how
well they complement each other.
Ian Anderson, Live
At The Isle of Wight Festival 1970 – Reflections of the
Event – 2004
From Nothing Is
Easy: - Oh, to be a fly on the wall at the downfall of the
Hippie Days. The clash of cultures between sleepy Isle Of
Wight residents and the great unwashed hordes who descended
on the island’s green pleasant pastures was a sight to
behold. Well, the music fans may not have been unwashed
when they left for the long weekend, but by the end of the
festival, there was something (Funky Smelling) in the
air…..
I personally had a
good soap and scrub before climbing aboard the Tris-lander,
which is a small commuter aircraft with an unlikely three,
even smaller, engines – for the brief flight from somewhere
in the South of England.
We were joining
Jimi Hendrix to close the three day festival and things
were getting out of hand for Rikki Farr and the organisers
of the event. The demands for free entry and a general
grumpiness on the part of the disillusioned hippies had
brought about chaos and violence on the fringes of the
crowd. Tiny Tim had wanted the money up-front. Joni
Mitchell had broken down in tears on stage. Jimi Hendrix
wasn’t a happy bunny. I don’t know if we were ever paid,
but it wasn’t important. Having done a few shows with Jimi
during the last couple of years, we were well aware of his
highs and lows as a performer. The Hendrix crew and our
roadies had the (by then) customary battle to set up their
respective band’s gear first, since neither act wanted to
follow the other and close the show. Our roadies, with
perhaps a little less equipment to wrestle with, won and we
took to the stage amidst much tuning up and kerfuffle. Not
the best show of our lives, but a landmark gig in terms of
just being there.
This was “England’s
Woodstock” moment. But with the unravelling of the ideals
of the last hippie years. Our manager, Terry Ellis had
pleaded for calm backstage. Rikki Farr pleaded for calm at
the back of the enormous crowd and beyond the rapidly
disintegrating barriers.
I silently pleated
with the Gods of Tunefulness, that Martin and Glenn could
align themselves with the grand piano and agree, if
temporarily, on the precise nature of a concert C. Murray Lerner’s
camera’s were rolling as they had been from the beginning
of the event.The whole
documentary of the Isle Of Wight Festival Of Music, is a
magnificent treat.It’s a bright
snapshot of the time. Jethro Tull was just a tiny part of
it all. Tull gave out the white heat energy which overcame
the occasional technical imperfections. Tull gave hints of
more sublime and classical alternatives.
There was no one
like Jimi Hendrix. This was his last major concert on
planet Earth, and it began shakily, and I could see that he
wasn’t having a good night. With a new band, and
determination to find new beginnings to his music. Jimi had
to bow to the crowd pressure, and play his usual hits. I
left after two or three songs for the mainland, and the
rest of my life. Jimi left us for
good a few days later. So let’s dedicate this I.O.W. memory
to the man who wasn’t exactly my pal, but would certainly
have become one if he were alive today.
The Moody Blues:
Were another of the festival’s runaway success stories.
It’s somehow odd, that these lovers of so-called “heavy
music” can warm up so readily to the Moodies sophisticated
sounds. “Sunset” – “Tuesday Afternoon” – “Never Comes The
Day” – “Questions” and “Ride My Seesaw” – all went down
incredibly well, with people leaping spontaneously to their
feet after each number. But, it was the almost legendary
“Nights In White Satin” that really got the biggest
applause, overwhelming Justin Hayward and Mike Pinder, who
like us all, could only lapse into superlatives, to show
his appreciation. Praise also, during
the Moodies act particularly for having the very best sound
system. It was so loud, yet
so well balanced, with all four voices coming through
perfectly. Individually, and
with not a bit of distortion.
Donovan: Would have
loved, to have re-enacted, his “saviour” role here as he
did at the Bath Festival. But,
the problem was, that John Sebastian achieved this a full
day earlier. As it was, he
played for a good hour on his own, before being joined by
The Open Road- John Carr on drums and Mike Thompson on bass
guitar. Solo, the highlight was a naughty piece called:
“How Much Of A Pee Do You Wee When You’re Little and Only
Three” On which he was joined by his own son and two small
friends for the liberated chorus. Then came the favourites:
“Hurdy Gurdy Man” – “Catch The Wind” – “Atlantis” – and
“Jennifer Juniper. Also his brand new
single, “Ricky-Ticky-Tavi. It was a good set – but way too
long!
Free: With their
heavy music playing in the sunshine, got a tremendous
reception from the vast audience. (and who says singles
aren’t important any more?) But the band was plagued with
instrument problems right from the start, when these were
finally corrected, they put on a magnificent show. It was a
solid, pounding, rocking beat, working around a melodic
idea, rather than a melodic song. There was a noted lack of
virtuoso solos, which was a real crowd pleaser, but when
the cries came pleading for “All Right Now” were satisfied,
things got really wild and exciting from then on. All the
calls for more and encore’s were totally genuine and
deserved. Free won the day.
Pentangle: Who
suffered right from the get-go due to terrible sound
balance, and completely lost them their well-known melodic
gentleness. Bert Jansch’s voice was completely lost, and
Danny Thompson’s experiments with bass and bow came through
the speakers as strange electronic noises….and added to all
this chaos, someone jumping onstage and trying to broadcast
an unofficial announcement of some kind, and you’ll
appreciate the fact that it was one of Pentangle’s most
hideous sets ever.
Jimi Hendrix: The
great guitar god himself. The music idol got off to an
extremely bad start, as some others did as well. Not only
did everyone there have to wait a painfully long time for
him to perform, meaning an hour and a half, due to
overwhelming technical issues, that needed to be resolved
first, but once on stage, these problems continued and
nothing Jimi tried to do worked in his favour. It was as if
in retaliation, when things finally settled down, he seemed
determined not to leave the stage until he and his fans
were completely satisfied.
With wild man,
Mitch Mitchell on drums and Billy Cox hammering at the
bass, Jimmy launched into a non-stop selection of known and
unknown numbers, that got wilder and wilder as they went.
The audience stayed and Hendrix stayed, and it appeared as
if he’d still be onstage playing until Monday morning. It
took so long to get the audience back on his side, and when
they were there, they grooved and grooved – but when he
eventually loped off the stage, no one called out for an
encore, as would be expected. Everyone was satisfied.
Joan Baez: She
followed immediately, and proceeded only by a “fire” on
stage, that was caused by a giant orange flare. The finest
female folk singer in the world faced an almost impossible
job of following Jimi Hendrix. Her opening song was the
Beatles, “Let It Be”. It was even more
meaningful under the circumstances, and he marvellous stage
presence and personality won the –getting the audience
attention battle after just one song, and that’s impressive
in anyone’s book. Other songs followed: “Joe Hill” – “The
Brand New Tennessee Waltz” – “Farewell Angelina” – “Oh
Happy Day” – “Blowing In The Wind” – “Te – Ador” “Suzanne” - “I
Shall Be Released” – and the obligatory “The Night They
Drove Old Dixie Down” – through them all, Joan was in
complete command. The audience took to her warmly with
real respect and affection.
Leonard Cohen: He
followed Joan Baez? Her beautiful voice and songs against
his crass suicidal songs of despair and depression? To this
audience who was dirty, cold, miserable and depressed
enough already? Leonard Cohen in no way helped the
situation, but it was too late anyway…….the damage and the
healing were already done. (Dave’s Opinion)
Richie Havens: What
little was left of the Isle Of Wight Festival, was given to
Richie, in order to make the final exit, of the final
festival. It all ended right here…on an island, how
appropriate is that !
Epilogue – Isle of Wight
Music Festival – 1970 – Part One:
The United
Kingdom’s most infamous rock festival, and the stuff that
legends are made of.
The Isle of Wight
Music Festival was true rock and roll mayhem. Where tales
abound of Hell’s Angels appearing, insufficient food
supplies, some violence occurred and plenty of chaos to go
around. The event caused such consternation to the
establishment, that all future concert’s and or festivals
on the island were banned. It took the passage of thirty
two years before the next festival could be held on the
Isle of Wight. The 1970’s festival was also remembered for
Jimi Hendrix who played his last gig there on Sunday August
30, 1970.
He died on
September 18, 1970. But no one seems to remember that after
the I.O.W Festival Jimi also played at Fehman’s Farm in
Germany, and the last major place where Jimi played, and if
you thought the Isle of Wight was a mess, you should have
seen Fehman’s. We had to get many of the bands equipment
out fast, because the German bikers went berserk towards
the end of the festival, and they turned over trailers, lit
fires and then left before the German police could arrive.
From Ford Crull
Epilogue Part Two:
The second Isle of
Wight Music Festival went out in a blaze of glory. It was
generally agreed that the kids had behaved surprisingly
well. The nearest thing to a disaster had been a small fire
in a fish and chips van, and there were only a handful of
arrest on minor charges.
Both the local Bus
Company and the British Railway were quick to lavish praise
on the exemplary behaviour of these 100,000 rock fans who
came and went during the entire event.
Even the Isle of
Wight “Country Press” described the event rather grudgingly
as: “More like a Hindu prayer meeting on the Ganges, than a
music festival in our Garden Isle”.
The “Portsmouth
News”, waxed lyrical in its editorial column: “A large part
of the glacier of prejudice melted away this weekend. Let
the hippies ring out their little bells, for social history
was made in that island field”.
“The whole thing
has been analysed to death, by people who weren’t even
there. It was an experience never to be repeated”.
By Gasmann
|
