We made our way to Wembley Arena, two bottles of cider safely stowed in our handbags for pre-concert consumption, and when we arrived, we remembered something that would make our parents proud, but is also a bit disturbing- we don't own a bottle opener. (Hey, diet coke comes in cans!) We set about making like chavs (when in Rome, right?) and attempting to open our cider bottles on a metal protective shop front- but no sooner had we positioned the cap, that an old non-English-speaking man in his Sunday best stepped in to teach us how it was done. Or so he thought. It proved harder than he expected, and resulted in him spraying half a bottle of apple and blackcurrant Swedish cider all over himself, and over half of Sarah. We felt bad, and he gave us one pound to make up for it, but Sarah sprinted to the nearest street sign and opened her bottle like the chavvy English teenager she once was. Such a pro.
The festival itself was dark, like really dark, and the floor was really sticky. The first few acts we watched were good old Jamaican reggae bands, and they kind of all blended together in a mess of hemp and dreadlocks. We loosened up after that, and really enjoyed swaying along with the music, and in typical 'us' fashion, mimicking the ridiculous dance moves we saw around us. Before long, we were hungry, so ventured to the food counter- where we waited in line for near on half an hour to be told at the front they had run out of chicken, fish, and veggie burgers. Ridiculous, as it was only 6:30pm!! Luckily from there we found an exit, and were able to go get a meal, and be back in time for the main acts of the evening.
Until that point, the festival had been alright- enjoyable, but Laura felt a tad guilty for dragging Sarah to yet another Bar Rumba-esque experience, and Sarah was less than tactful in her displeasure at being there. Awkward. But then, something magical happened. And that something, was named Busta Rhymes.
Ohmygod. He was amazing. We knew quite a few songs with Busta in them from over the years, but had little expectation for his performance- and he completely blew us away. He slammed all of his greatest hits in his short set time, he was jumping around, doing weird dances, and his high-speed rapping- well, Laura was in love. Here's his rap to 'Look At Me Now', his newest hit, it was easily the top performance of the evening, and has got us looking into going to a Busta Rhymes concert.
After our darling Mr. Rhymes came Sean Paul (our dear friend Kate Paul's alleged cousin), who, along with a new haircut, also gave a good performance- his time was cut short due to the concert overrunning, so he was a bit disoriented, but still gave it his all and performed lots of songs we don't like when they are overplayed on the radio, but loved live.
And finally, the cherry on our reggae feast, on came none other than good old Shaggy. Lets just say, age has been kind to him. He is still as hot, still as awesome, and still as cringe-worthy as he was in the yellow CD Laura and her brother had as a child. Don't mind the awkward singing/yelling of some over-excited American who was happy to not be the only one who wanted to hear 'It Wasn't Me' (she thought she only liked it because she's that white), Shaggy was skipping, thrusting and limbo-ing like a pro. It really was a fantastic performance.
Such a turnaround!! The concert was incredible, we had a great time, and it turned from 'When is it over?' to 'WE'VE GOT TO COME BACK NEXT YEAR!!' But next year, we will probably reserve seats and bring sandwiches.
|Look at the homies we were hangin' with|