The sun may be turning up fashionably late but we’ve certainly been spoilt this summer in the live music stakes. Despite the constant stream of multi-billed open-air events and high profile (albeit high priced) acts, Bud Rising emerged under the simple premise of offering ‘big acts in small venues’ (importantly, at smaller prices). So how was it for you?
There certainly seems to have been a common theme in all reviews – written or verbal – of Bud Rising events: words like ‘sweaty’, ‘packed to the rafters’, ‘fire hazard’ and even Stuart Clark’s revival of the oft-forgotten verb ‘to shoehorn’ (oneself in to a venue). Staying true to the spirit of Sweat Bud Rising, the appearance of the legendary De La Soul was a suitably sardine-like affair.
Flown in from New York specifically for the gig, Dave, Mase and Pos pulled out all the stops. United in reverence and soaring body temperatures, we surrendered completely to their party regime: the call and response, the search for the Real Party People and the type of mass arm movements not seen since the Hitler Youth. Even the contingent of hip-hop fashonites did not pass under the De La radar, with the singling out – and prompt dragging onto stage – of individuals who refused to dance.
It helped that the tunes themselves were of premium choice – a healthy mix of classic party monsters (‘Buddy’, ‘Ring, Ring, Ring’, ‘A Roller Skating Jam Named Saturdays’, ‘Oooh’) and intriguing new songs. Suffice it to say their Grind Date album promises big things next month.
Having seen De La Soul only once before in an Olympic sized arena, I can truthfully say that they rose to the Sweat Bud Rising challenge. I went home a happy sardine.