This post consists of a request for information and an offer of transport, rather thinly dressed up as reflective autobiography.
For all my insisting that I’m vaguely obsessed with the indie/alternative, this year I will be attending my first Truck. I often look back at the late ’90s, when all that started and I was in a band that (thanks to rgl being a more socialized human being than I, something that he can’t be accused of by many) was at least peripheral to the Oxford Music Conspiracy. I suppose that explains why he went to the early Truck festivals, got stuck in with a number of scene bands and started up a record label, whereas I took a somewhat straighter path, merely buying CDs by a number of scene bands and starting up a short-story site. You don’t have to make friends with people when you write short stories.
As a Truck virgin, I really have no idea what to expect. I’m sure that, with around 5000 people, it’s likely to have a less formal atmosphere than that of a Reading or Carbury festival. But other than that I’m utterly ignorant of what’s going to happen. I didn’t even know we couldn’t camp on Friday till the belated posting of information to that effect on the Truck website. That would’ve come in handy when booking the time off work.
This ignorance ought to make me feel like a 19-year-old again, on his way to his first weekend music bash (in my case, the baptism of fire that was Reading ’96, oh God, I’m so old). But I’m so used to obsessive planning—a skill you learn only by dint of having had years of poorly planned disasters—that this is all taking me rather by surprise.
So, for all you Truckers out there, I have three questions:
- How organized is it? Is there a gated fence between camping and the stages, as in bigger festivals? Most importantly, can you take your own booze to the stages?
- Does anyone want a lift? We still have spare back seats.
- Why on earth didn’t they call it Truck X? I would’ve called it Truck X. Truck X sounds excellent. Who are these people, calling it Truck 10?
These questions might seem rather random and unrelated, but they represent the three main areas of my life in which I fret and obsess: booze and the provision thereof; environmental guilt; and thinking for far too long or hard about the nature of branding and the power of words. Now that might sound like a rock-and-roll lifestyle to you, but don’t worry: if you do want to hitch a ride with us bats out of hell, then when we get to the festival site you won’t be made to feel like you actually have to socialize with us. We wouldn’t want to wear you out.