Technicolours light up the stage, and the excitement rises. The crowd gushes in and becomes a swirl of glow bands; a jostle of cameras, phones and flailing body parts. We scream and shout and sing and cheer, moving to the beat, surging in time with the swell of the crowd.
Sometimes, you just need to let go.
Some of the fantastic, frenzy-inducing performances at the Truck festival were:
As the evening descends there is pause; a moment of interlude. People convene, rub their bellies and head for the comfort of food, cigarettes, a quiet pint or two before launching into the frenzy of the night-time festivities.
The sun pools the last of its sweet golden liquor into the horizon beyond and the cheerful winking lights lead us towards the dazzling final act.
One of the most magical moments of the truck festival for me was hearing The Low Anthem perform. They are a low key, low-fi eccentric bunch who are obsessed with recycling instruments and appear to turn their hands to every instrument under the sun including trumpet, clarinet, dulcimer, the pump organ and even the saw. They recorded their latest album in an abandoned pasta sauce factory.
They played this song, which a former band member had scribbled down before he left in the dead of night.
A lady next to me with spiky red hair burst into tears uncontrollably half way through the performance.
We all understood.
It’s one of those songs that just releases any kind of pent up emotion inside of you. It is raw and heartfelt and tender. To me it sounds just like pure emotion would feel, or as one fan on you tube puts it “all I can say is that this song makes me wanna cry like a bitch every time I hear it”.
It was a powerful moment of shared emotion in a crowd; a moment of haunting beauty.
Here are the faces of the crowd, listening, watching, whilst they played it …