Halle Again
Everybody in Holland speaks English. The
exception that proves the rule is a brusque
woman who works in the ticket office at the
train station not far from Halle, Holland
where I was trying to buy my train ticket to
the town of Halle in Belgium. This proved
very tricky. First I tried the popular
English technique of just speaking more
loudly. “I WANT TO GO TO HALLE IN BELGIUM”
didn’t seem to work, so I resorted to my
basic Dutch and just bought a ticket to
Brussels which mercifully she had heard of
and could cope with. I was determined not to
be late. The train connections worked fine,
and despite the lack of a restaurant car on
the international Rotterdam-Brussels leg of
the journey, I arrived in Halle completely
de-stressed.
Halle has just one hotel, and when I
enquired about a room for the night I was
told that they were due to be full, but a
band called The Stranglers had just
cancelled their rooms the day before. At
least I wouldn’t have to share a hotel with
that rowdy bunch. The hotel looked a bit
ordinary, but one glance at the restaurant
and I realized that I had come to the right
place.
After an hour or two of pottering I made my
way to the festival site. Situated in the
centre of the town, and therefore just a
short stroll from the hotel was the venue
for the gig. A large well-organised outdoor
space surrounded by apartment buildings, a
large stage, what looks like an awesome
sound system, and best of all, enough bar
space and bar staff for there to be no queue
at any time for drinks (UK festival
organizers please note).
After hooking up with some familiar faces,
with just over an hour to go I made my way
to the front. The advantages of securing an
early place are obvious, but the
disadvantage was that I had to suffer the
band who were on before. It may just be a
getting-old thing, but what on earth is the
purpose of this rap drivel? Two bald guys
rapping in Flemish over what sounded like
the same track played again and again, no
musicians in sight, and a guy called MC
something-or-other pretending to DJ in the
background. I’m sorry; give me rock and roll
any day.
By the time the changeover took place I was
in my favourite spot – centre stage, leaning
on the barrier, and with two cold beers to
keep me going.
The Stranglers were on early – 7.15pm – as
they were second support to The Levellers
(what kind of sense is that?), so it was a
bit surreal to hear Waltzinblack being
played in broad daylight. The dozen or so of
us who knew what to do cheered the opening
bars, as did the plump Belgian lady next to
me who asked me what was going on.
As Norfolk Coast started, I realized that I
had been right about the sound system. It
was very, very loud and as crystal clear as
you can expect in that kind of environment.
Baz has abandoned his black “Hooligans”
T-shirt for a smart collarless black shirt,
which gave him a sort of James Bond
arch-villain look.
Dave’s new haircut suits him so well that I
didn’t even notice until half way through,
although the lack of mane may have
disoriented him somewhat because the
delicate solo piano parts of Long Black Veil
sounded a little too Les Dawson.
Jet (who seems to have got his anorexia well
under control) was huffing and puffing away
and needed his minder with him throughout
the gig. I’m not sure whether it was his
drum technician or his nurse.
Paul was in sparkling form and smiled the
whole way through. I thought there might be
some French banter from JJ, but with just
one hour and fifteen minutes of allotted
time the band seemed on a mission to play as
much of their full set as they could.
I heard the new song for the first. Its
quite punky in a “Lost Control” sort of way,
with a bass solo, and some interesting jazzy
changes. It gets a cautionary thumbs up from
me – I look forward to hearing the recorded
version.
There were no other surprises or changes in
the set. Paul enjoyed waving to an OAP who
was watching somewhat bemused from the
balcony of her apartment overlooking the
square. I hope she had her hearing aid set
to low.
Tank is a fitting way to end a set, and the
final deep thundery keyboard explosion was
so loud and deep that I heard it throughout
my whole body. With time always an issue at
these festivals, they were on again as
quickly as they had gone off for an encore
consisting of just NMH. The plump Belgian
lady nudged me to show her approval and
asked the name of the best Stranglers album
to buy. Let’s see how many copies of Norfolk
Coast they sell in Halle this week.
By 8:30 it was all over – leaving me time to
check out the excellent restaurant at the
hotel.
This was a great trip for me, the only
downside being the thumping headache I have
the morning after. Officially, I will blame
being too near the sound system, but just
between you and me it might be due to the
quantity of Stella I chucked down my neck
and the bottle of Pouilly Fume that
accompanied by dinner. And the champagne
cocktail. I wonder how you say “hair of the
dog” in Flemish?
Anthony Goodwin
Click here for
photos from the gig
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