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Saturday
night and the old Speke airfield plays host to Creamfields 2002.
Regardless of whatever is happening with the club that spawned it,
the Creamfields festival is very much alive and kicking.
The
threat of rain (it never really materialised) did nothing to put
off the throngs of party goers who tottered across the muddy field
towards the site, not easy when you're wearing high heels and fake
angel wings.
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| Clubbers
flocked from across the country |
The
announcement by Faithless that this would be their last live performance
for sometime added to the sense of anticipation and excitement in
the build up to the festival. In the event Faithless didn't disappoint,
although with an audience as up for it as this one even Michael
Bolton would gone down well, provided he'd blown a whistle and waved
his hands in the air that is. But that's not to say that Faithless
didn't live up to expectations, they far exceeded them with one
of the best performances ever. It was that good. Honest.
As always the best action actually took place away from the main
stage, the Radio 1 stage was a beacon of madness, from the topless
body painted girls down the front to the mass frisbee action going
on above their heads.
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| Batman
outfits were all the rage |
For
those prepared to wander, there were many hidden delights, Lemon
Jelly giving a stunning performance to a crowd that grew larger
by the minute, all the fun of the fairground of course, and the
complete chaos of fifty people dancing on the back of a pick up
truck by the Bacardi Breezer tent. The low flying dayglo orange
of Easyjet flights overhead only added to the surrealness of the
day, after all who would want to fly out of Liverpool when all this
was happening? Meanwhile on the main stage Underworld were busy
reaffirming their brilliance, if there was ever any doubt.
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| Pink
is this years black |
By
midnight there were already bodies strewn across the airstrip, casualties
who had failed to pace themselves during the day and now slept it
off while the world partied around them. And party it did. Creamfields
only really comes into it's own once darkness falls. By then every
tent was packed to capacity with the carefully constructed outfits
of many clubbers showing wear and tear, rather like their owners.
And then it was over, until next year that is. See you there we'll
be the ones with the horns.
Words:
Paul Coslett
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