Trapped in the Chalet: Aftermath

Monday morning was strange. My chalet mates left early, so I had the weird experience of waking up and getting ready in an empty chalet. Doing the washing up was a surreal experience – why was I doing it? What was I gaining from doing it? Maybe virtue really is its own reward.

Eventually I left Pontin’s. Travelling alone, I resolved to walk to Rye, taking the public right of way that connects holiday camp with town. This was a pleasant way of journeying, bringing me beside fields from which sheep eyed me suspiciously, wondering whether I had come to kill their young. Not me. I also saw many rabbits. One section of the path took me by first a second world war gun emplacement (now disused and marked as dangerous) and then through a vast field full of sheep. Some of these looked like they were thinking of seeing if their molars could be turned to carnivorous use, but they eventually decided better of it.

Rye was as pretty as ever. I thought of stopping for a coffee and treat, but nowhere seemed just right. So I went to the train station and met DJ Krossphader and Claire, his delightful young ladyfriend. We travelled to London together, making jokes about Plato’s Republic on the way, and then ended up loafing around for much of the afternoon in that great city. I brought them to Selectadisc and we bought some records. Afterwards we went to that Italian sandwich place in Soho for a little something.

But anyway, overall, how was ATP weekend one this year? While much of what I saw was enjoyable enough, there was little that was revelatory – at no point did I see someone new and think “Jesus Christ, this is the best band ever, where I can I buy all their records”. Even if I had, they don’t really do the merchandising properly anymore. My feeling is that the merch place should work like a shop, and sell stuff from all the bands for all the weekend. Instead, the merchandise room sold only ATP’s own merchandise all the time, with the bands only selling their stuff after their shows. I reckon some of them, notably Comets On Fire, lost themselves money this way. Ho hum.

So, maybe in the end Paul Watts is right, and this truly was a below par ATP – though it can hardly have been as dull as the Autechre year.