festival

Written years ago about the London International Children's Festival, my favourite annual event. Edited in 2003.

I knew today was going to be great. It was ten o'clock and I was already on my third bottle of coke. Things seemed to be running smoothly at my stage. I was sitting there on that overturned bucket that usually held ropes and chains and other odds and ends needed for rigging. The CD player was spinning out a tune to the whole park. We were in the centre of it all. The hub of all activity at this festival was right here: the Bandshell. People came here when they were tired, when they wanted some music, when they needed to buy tickets or use the bathroom. And there I was, one lone guy with dirty clothes on and a hat to keep me from getting sun stroke. I ran it all, and it was pretty fun too. I would greet the performers that graced the stage each day, show them the dressing rooms, set up their gear, get them whatever they wanted, and then after everyone was happy I'd run back to the scaffold, hop up and mix the sound on the impressive looking mixing board. My job has lots of responsibility but not many rewards. That's the beauty of it really, no thanks means a job well done, a kind word from a performer is a nice touch, and comments from the audience means you fucked up. It's sort of the "no news is good news" kind of concept.

The kids had already started arriving in the yellow busses and it looked like it would be another one of those cloudless June days. I hopped down from the scaffold and walked over to the stage and up the stairs. Glancing over at the amplifiers I smiled as I thought about how exciting it was to be at the reins of such immense power. Used properly the power could be unleashed in such a way as to bring joy and happiness to many, used wrongly it could bring pain. I felt honoured to be at the helm, dishing out just the right amount of each instrument and vocal, mixed in my 32 channel wok, heated, seasoned and then reconstituted by various pieces of electronics and mechanics and ultimately delivered to the listeners in almost no time at all. Continuing backstage I entered the loading dock. It was early into the festival week and the room had already accumulated massive amounts of junk. I shoved some boxes aside to keep pathways clear and then thought about where to wander next. I was passing time, just taking it easy before things got really wild. This whole event only really took about 6 days to do, but it feels like a month by the time it's over. It's like watching a movie and getting so caught up in the story that you forget whats going on in the real world. What a great escape! Heck, I don't even make any money doing this, it's all volunteer, but I can't think of anything more rewarding. I've learned so much here. It's a major part of my life and something that I hope to always be able to do.

The office seems like a good place to go next. I use the back stairs, which unfortunately often smell like pee. I pass through a small hallway. The office is actually a room used for people to put on skates during the winter season. It's now full of supplies, tables, telephones and a photocopier. This is the temporary office for the week. What is usually a snack bar is now the radio room. The counters are lined with big chargers humming away as they pump batteries full of juice. There are important files here that contain technical information for all the shows. I wander around the office and greet people that I haven't seen yet today. I go into the radio room and Scott is there talking on his cell phone. "Well why the fuck isn't it here? I told you I needed it here at 9:30... fuck!.... no, tell him to get in the fucking truck and bring it fucking here right now....... fuck him, this is more important........ I need the shit here now....... well tell him to get his fucking ass down here with the fucking shit right away.", hangs up the phone and reverts back to his usual cool yet slightly jumpy self. "Oh hi Andrew." he says. Not amused, yet not uninterested either. He is now working on programming a radio. His laptop keeps giving error beeps and you can tell he's getting annoyed.

"Anything I can do? I'm free for a bit.", I say.

"No.", he replies not really paying attention. I pick my radio off the charger and clip it to my fanny pack. I turn it on and test to see if it's working. Radios are a real drag. When I sit down it always seems to fall off, it's heavy, and it makes a lot of racket, and sometimes the noise is people trying to talk to me so I have to listen to all of it. The volume always seems to get turned down from the knob rubbing against my clothes and I always get in trouble when people can't get a hold of me. The "my clothes rub against the volume knob" excuse doesn't seem to hold, so now I put a piece of tape over it to keep it on full volume.

"Actually, can you take some stuff to Kidstage?", Scott replies after a few minutes of silence.
"Sure.", and I start to walk off when I realize that I don't know what to take.
"Wait! I haven't told you what to take!", says Scott.
"Sorry!", I reply. The coke must be making me hyperactive. Actually, it's probably the extreme excitement which I try my best to contain.
"Take the small mic case that's in the back of the Bandshell, the rest of the stuff is there but it's not hooked up. Go and set it up.", he says.
"Sure.", I say running off. I find the mic case in the back and scurry down the steps towards the Kidstage.

The Kidstage is inside a tent on the lawn of the park. It always smells like wet grass inside, and some dew always ends up on cables and bins of equipment. There is something refreshing about the smell of a new day and sun streaming at a shallow angle across the grass as I plug stuff in and make everything ready.

After everything is working at the Kidstage I head back to the Bandshell, check to make sure my CD is still playing, and then head back into the office for the final few minutes before I will be busy all day. There is the usual commotion of people making various deliveries, answering early morning calls and doing telephone interviews for local radio stations. The two-way radio channel that I am monitoring is getting busier. Everyone is taking care of their part of the event. Tasks get executed and problems get solved smoothly by everyone working together as a team. Nobody is too proud to get their hands dirty and fix something, lift something, or offer advice on how to solve a problem. The entire operation seems to move like clockwork. I imagine the"stuff happening" scenes from movies where there is upbeat rock music, and everything progressing seemingly way too smoothly. The sort of scenes that make you think to yourself: "If only things were that easy in real life." It's amazing to get that feeling for real.

As more and more of the event crew arrive and get organized, the excitement level rises, but it's when the yellow school busses arrive on all sides of the park and the really important people, the kids for whom this festival exists start flooding into the park that the feeling of accomplishment, of worthwhileness really sets in. All the giddy excited feelings leading up to that very moment come together in an instant justification that being involved in this huge undertaking is the right thing. All those cables that were unrolled and plugged in, all those lights that were hung and speakers that were heaved into position and banners and drapes that were set up all mean something now. The stuff that I do here isn't just about tiny electrical impulses from microphones becoming large voltages in speakers, it's about amplifying and broadcasting joy from the hands of skilled musicians to the ears of thousands of impressionable and wide-eyed children. Showing them how amazing life is when they celebrate music, arts and most importantly, themselves. There are millions of smiles, hugs and laughs exchanged in this place during the few short days each year. What we do helps to make those reactions happen.

Sometimes I close my eyes and thank whatever fate allowed me to be here, to take this time off school and to be in this amazing place. And I know that I smile, dance and enjoy myself just as much as everyone else during this magical week that is the London International Children's Festival.