Thursday 10/07/08 The Streets, N.E.R.D, Sven Vath @ EXIT Festival, Serbia

“Do you know how to rave?” Mike Skinner asks the Serbian crowd in the early hours of Thursday morning. There are plenty of British in attendance also; in fact, there are people from all over the world at Exit Festival 2008. Running from 7pm – 8am, for four consecutive days, only the hardcore need apply though. As the first few chords of Prodigy’s ‘Out of Space’ kick in the answer is clear: Serbia knows how to rave! The Streets have been on stage for 10 minutes and the hour that follows is absolutely sublime.

Half of Birmingham appears for the sing-along that is ‘Has It Come To This?’ “Original pirate material, you’re listening to The Streets, lock down your aerial.” A lot of effort has gone into the set list as the bad and goods sides of having a bird (‘Too Late’ and ‘Could Be Well In’) sees tears then smiles and then tears again. The clubbing anthems (‘Weak Become Heroes’ and ‘Blinded By The Lights’) draw the biggest cheers of the night as Skinner and Leo The Lion completely dominate the stage. “I really appreciate it you know,” he says with the sincerity of Beth Ditto at a free buffet. “I know you don’t know who the fuck I am. I’m Mike Skinner!” If they didn’t before they certainly do now.

Sven Vath’s 3-hour set, later in the night, left the Dance Arena buzzing until Monday morning. The Renaissance classic ‘Mismoplastico’ gave the packed crowd their marching powder as they twisted and turned to a hit parade of the dirtiest techno imaginable. Coming up the stairs and looking down over the arena was like looking down into the pit of the Coliseum except the battle weapons weren’t swords and shields but crossfaders and pitch controls. Vath wound his set down for Francois K to build back, but the Frenchman was more interested in showcasing his technical brilliance rather than producing a set with any flow to it. Little Louis’ ‘French Kiss’ briefly brought the crowd back into the palm of his hand only to be brushed aside again with typical gailic egotism.

N*E*R*D had held similar contempt for the crowd earlier in the night. Although at times brandishing the kind of brilliance that has made them international superstars with blinding renditions of ‘Rockstar’ and ‘Provider,’ they too often took their appeal for granted. Pharrell insisted on the crowd answering his questions with “Sir, yes, Sir,” and taunted the locals with “Do you even know what I’m fucking saying?” They did and many remained disinterested for the duration of the American’s set.

Housed in a Citadel at the top of a tree-lined hill, the walk back to base involved a choice of side streets before re-crossing the Danube and following it left back to camp and right into town. The two parallel streets lined were both lined with bars that served the spirits so sorely missed at the festival bars. Back open in a matter of hours and with the bars and tunes at the campsite never relenting there was always somewhere to carry on for those that could hack it. The party wasn’t just for those with wristbands, the whole of Novi Sad got involved. 

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