It’s seven in the evening, there’s still light in the sky, and in the Old Liverpool Airfield, a legion of saucer-eyed ravers are already throwing shapes, waving glow sticks and hugging each other. It can only mean one thing; Creamfields has rolled around again. The rides are in full swing, the stages slowly filling up, and the fifteen-hour slog is about to properly take off. Even before the sun goes down you can already see the casualties, stumbling around on their own like extras from Dawn of the Dead. Too hard too fast guys, too hard too fast...
Sadly Caged Baby are just a little too early for Gigwise, but the Audio Bullys are quite happily pumping out their dirty beats. At the end of their set ‘Shot You Down’ goes down a storm, unsurprisingly, but there’s not a lot else to say about the chav-house offerings from the London duo. Bog standard beats and sub-Streets urban edginess; we’ve all seen better down Walkabout on a Wednesday night.
Around nine the whole site sees a mass exodus towards the main stage as Faithless come on. Faithless are one of those groups; you never buy the album, but they’re always a good laugh live. Coming on to ‘Insomnia’, they can’t really go wrong, and the crowd are eating out of Maxi Jazz’s hand from the off. After a few unknown tracks everyone’s attention’s wavering, but the faster pace of ‘Mass Destruction’ jerks them back into life, inspiring all manner of “wacky” dancing. Ending with ‘We Come One’ and ‘Salva Mea’, there’s nothing surprising about the set, but the smiles on the crowds’ faces lets you know that Faithless did their job well.
The tents are still only warming up, bracing themselves for a long night, so Gigwise figures the insane carnival of colour and noise that is Basement Jaxx may be a safe way to kill some time before LCD Soundsystem. Much like their sets at other festivals this summer, they do their riotous pop-dance thing well, and there’s barely a still person in the crowd, but it’s all a bit too familiar really. The whole stage show smacks of rehearsal, and the edgy funk of LCD sounds more tempting.
The arena is still half empty when James Murphy and co. wander on, and it takes a good half of their set for the place to fill up. After apologizing for being “the band in the dance tent”, they rip into ‘Beat Connection’, and from there on in it’s a cowbell rocking, bongo bashing rave-up. Being a live band on a stage for DJs, the sound struggles, but they push their tunes into more dance-y territory to compensate, as the sounds of 'Daft Punk Is Playing At My House' fills the Chibuku Shake Shake Arena, the crowd gathers, probably in awe of anyone who will bang a tambourine on their own head that hard. The best act of the evening end on ‘Yeah’, a full on electro stomper that forces everyone’s hands into the air...at last.
After that, a nip into the Full Cycle Tent sees Scratch Perverts doing their “how many DJs can we fit on stage?” thing, and they’re launching into some heavy drum n’ bass, covering it in ridiculous scratching and taking turns to stand at the back and smoke. It’s all very clever and everything, but sometimes you can overdo it, and it doesn’t take long to get bored of the constant tweaks and squiggles.
2 Many DJs (maybe they’re taking the piss out of the Scratch Perverts?) have started pounding out a top set in the Chibuku tent, which sees the guys back on form. Having spent the last year or so playing bland techno sets, tonight they throw everything into the blender, coming out with catchy electro slamming into John Peel's fave, 'Teenage Kicks' before mutating into Mr Oizo’s wobbly-bass classic, ‘Flat Beat’. It’s obvious crowd pleasing stuff, but that’s what everyone’s after when they go to see the Soulwax boys on the decks, and tonight they did the job well.
Hearing the hard-house and seeing the fluorescent outfits, we decide to steer clear of the gurn-tastic Tidy tent and instead investigate more of the weird and wonderful music going on in the Chibuku Shake Shake arena. Richie Hawtin is playing, and inside the tent it’s a weird scene. Richie’s set is minimal to the extreme, and the people there to see him are trying to dance, but it’s three in the morning and you need something a bit more lively. The other half of the crowd is a collection of the casualties of earlier, somehow still going and only able to handle the barely-there beats of Hawtin’s take on techno. The atmosphere in the tent is waiting for a proper beat to drop, but it never happens.
Sneaking over to the the rammed Strongbow Rooms tent, Felix Da Housecat is throwing down his trademark technicolour electro, and it looks like the cider is finally getting to everyone. The velvet rope across the door tells you there's no hope of getting in, but people are hurling themselves over the fence round the side, and come four o'clock no doubt the place will explode.
Dave Clarke takes over from Hawtin back in Chibuku and ups the pace, but it’s too little too late. After a good eight hours full-on dancing nothing’s keeping the eyelids open…it’s good to know when you’re beaten. Walking past Touche in the Southern Fried Records tent, you can hear some techno-flavoured house coming through the walls, but it’s not enough to drag you in once the homeward mission starts.
Lots of people are looking very lost, the taxi queue is growing rapidly, and the field is a sea of plastic bottles and empty baggys. Creamfields 2005 has come and gone with fifteen hours of bright lights, mad colours, crazy people, and one of the strongest line-ups in it’s history...let’s just see what next year has to offer.
Check out the Creamfields Photo Gallery
Photos by Andy Day
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