Way Out West had the best line up of the summer – not my words, but the words of Rolling Stone UK – and it seemed too good for some old guys to pass up, even though by the time we (John D, John E, Andy and Robin) got our plans together the festival was officially sold out, and we would have to rely on potentially dodgy tickets sourced from the efests forum, Reddit and viagogo. I remembered from previous trips to Scandinavia that buying booze can be surprisingly complicated, so I picked up a bottle of Havana 7 in Edinburgh Airport Duty Free. This would subsequently be decanted throughout the weekend into flexible camping-bottle technology that was completely undetectable when shoved down my shorts. We stayed at the Comfort Hotel Panorama, one of the closest hotels to the festival site in lush public park Slottskogen. Plenty of bands and crew were at the Comfort Hotel too, including The XX, who John E spotted getting into a taxi with wee funny hats protecting their pre-show hairdos. There was, somewhat confusingly, another Comfort Hotel a few miles away down by the River Gota. But nobody would be daft enough to book that wrong one by mistake, would they Robin?
Following Ryanair delays we got to the site later than planned on Thursday, and had a wee bit of hassle gaining admission. It turned out Andy’s Viagogo ticket was a fake, but staff binned (and initially denied binning) the docs that came with it (which Andy needed to provide to Viagogo to prove the fraud), while Robin was initially given entirely the wrong wristband. The boss ticketing guy got aggro when these errors were identified and came out from behind his desk to swear at us in English – poor behaviour. It’s a snide routine I recognised from club bouncers in Berlin and was a bit silly, but it was our first taste of a straight-faced Swedish enthusiasm for Rules (more of which later).
Now you will all remember back in the heady days of September 2007 when Pin Up Nights successfully launched at The Beat Club to 100s of punters, that The Glasgow Times profiled me as DJ of the Week and I identified Lily Allen as the celeb I fancied the mostest. Perhaps an unexpected declaration at the time when I was all “Girls Aloud this, Cheryl Cole Tweedy Fernandez Versini 1D that”, but I think I’ve had the last laugh. I’m certainly laughing more than the Stranger Things guy, as Lily has torn him apart at album-length. Touring West End Girl in full as a sort of theatrical play, and performing no other songs, is a bold artistic choice. I can’t help thinking a short encore of big hits would have been a nice way to cement the revival of her fortunes, but we shall see.
Way Out West isn’t just in a nice big green park, it’s also a trendy vegan-food-only festival, and while I’m a mere evil vegetarian, I applaud the sentiment. It’s maybe the only festival at which Moby would be permitted to screen a 2 minute stomach-churning animal rights movie. He redeemed himself with Jacob Lusk absolutely booming out Natural Blues, and ending on undisputable 1990s banger Feeling So Real.
The XX then headlined with almost the same set I saw them perform in 2017ish at Glastonbury end, er, Nottingham, with the exception of a solo songs bit in the middle. Are they now a nostalgia act? That’s maybe OK since the lighting is dramatic, the sound exquisite, and the hairdos impeccable. Robin tried lighting a cigar but was almost immediately told by a steward to put it out as smoking was not permitted on site – this seemed laughable in a huge green open park, but we were assured that the Rules were the Rules!
We had enough first night enthusiasm to then go and investigate the after hours “Stay Out West” shows and try to see Earl Sweatshirt at the hangar-like Filmstudion. Earl didn’t come on til after 1am and was good – but just good, in the way that one MC and one DJ can be. Earl was also blatantly smoking onstage, which was surely against the Rules. A guy was wearing a Glasgow shirt as some kind of bizarre fashion statement.
On Friday morning there were cobalt blue skies and warm sunshine and it was time for tourism, though a “legends of rock” festival meant the Poseidon statue at the top of (big restaurants street) Avenyn was fenced off from a photo opp. We asked to get in for a picture, but – Rules. We headed on into the old town to see the famous fish market Stora Saluhallen, the far too trendy and youthful clothes shop Vallgatan 12 (I’m at the stage where staff in Urban Outfitters think I’m in there to collect my kids), and the Cathedral. We should probably have then taken an educational boat tour but instead got side-tracked by iced lattes at Kaffe Majas, me deciding I needed a hair cut, and the chaps deciding they needed pizza and beers at Deg.
Entry to Slottskogen was then all-action as I successfully smuggled in more rum, accosted a chap in a Larsson 7 Celtic shirt to discuss current hooped hero Benny Nygren (“he is from here, yes he is crap but he scores, he has always been this way ya ya ya”), and then John E got us a round of Smirnoff Ice Apple. It was very drinkable indeed and I imagined a record-scratch sort of moment – “you may be wondering how I’m sitting here naked in a Swedish jail cell …“
I led a Smirnoffed charge to literally the other end of the site to see hype band Geese. I don’t mind listening to them on record, though I find myself playing “what does this sound like?” quite a lot, and I’m aware a lot of people think they’re just a big evil record industry plant. The Linne tent was absolutely packed for the big buzz band performance and we could only get a spot near the very back, over the wee stream (can you imagine T in the Park having an unmarked water hazard 😬).
The chaps were fairly unmoved and left after a few songs but I stuck it out to see what the fuss was about and found myself mixing up Half Real with Au Pays Du Cocaine. It was good but I won’t be filing it next to “intimate” early buzz gigs like seeing Arcade Fire at GU Debates Chamber or Franz/Yeah Yeah Yeahs/several other amazing noughties bands at the QMU.
On the way out of Geese I found a fancy teepee selling pints of Blue Moon, so naturally I got 2. The chaps were watching Blood Orange though I don’t think it grabbed any of us. I was unhelpfully pointing out that if you closed your eyes it could easily be a covers band doing the shinier end of 80s R n B. I’m sure at one point they did the Elliot Smith thing that Lorde contributes to the most recent album but there was no sign of Lorde and I can’t see any mention of this on setlist.fm. I think Dev needs to go down the Nile Rogers route of performing songs he has written and produced – how I would loved to have heard a magnificent Losing You or Everything is Embarrassing.
Fcukers were on the smaller stage up the hill and were nice backing music as we sampled smuggled spirits, and a Swede got excited about my 1 of 100 MF Doom x J Dilla tshirt. He reckoned I would be a “big hero” but he was the only guy who noticed it all day. And then before we knew it, Nick Cave was on the Quite Big Stage. I should explain that there is a central plain where there is one Quite Big Stage and then another Very Big Stage diagonally opposite it. This means that bands can alternate between them and keep the tunes going. As far as I’m concerned Nick Cave can essentially do no wrong though I concede he has of late settled into performances which doesn’t always contain his very best songs. There was a definite lull where he did numbers which a friendly talkative Swede next to me branded “boring husband-wife stuff”. Nick was also dropped at one point by silly Swedes during crowd surfing – surely there should be a Rule against that – but the 2 hours still raced by and then we turned around for The Cure.
Andy had left Cave early to get a plum spot while John E had opted for Fourtet in the tent, so it was left to me to make sympathetic faces to sad Swedes as Rule Breaking Rebel Robin lit his cigar, triggering much waving of hands around noses, and exaggerated choking noises. The chaps eventually got back together and The Cure were a sheer delight, building up to a peak where they played a run of hits – Boys Don’t Cry, The Walk, Close To Me, Lovecats, Friday I’m in Love, Boys Don’t Cry. Robin then found himself in a wee bar which we weren’t allowed into by firm but fair staff – it was closing time and Rules were Rules. In a moment of rum fuelled raw creation not unlike Paul McCartney creating Get Back, I created a brand new song called Rules Are Rules and performed it to the staff. “Rules Are Rules, Ve Must Obey Vem, Rules Are Rules, Ve Don’t Know Who Vakes Em“. Happily nobody slapped me. It was around this time I acknowledged it would be good for an old fella like me to get some sleep.
Saturday was cooler and cloudier and a pre-fest amble around town bore a sighting of Jeff Wooton, guitarist of Gorillaz and Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds. Back at the fest, I’ve been a long term St Etienne Stan and they were a lovely late addition to the Saturday afternoon bill in the Linne tent. My big brother Gerry played the hell out of Foxbase Alpha when I was a boy and I subsequently queued (yes, there was a queue) at a St Etienne CD signing at HMV in Argyle Street circa 1998. In the Linne they had unfortunate technical problems with the power cutting twice and this seemed to really spook Sarah Cracknell, which is totally understandable. I was singing the high bits of Spring that she dodged, and while the famous cover of Only Love Can Break Your Heart was fine (and warmly received by a pack of young Gothenburgers who barged into my spot), She’s on the Phone sounded plain weird (maybe the power cut messed with keyboard settings).
Ezra Collective were up next – via the Blue Moon teepee – and featured a guest spot from Damon Albarn. I remarked that Damon still appeared sober but there was plenty of time for that to change. “Does he always get on the sauce?” asked Andy. “It’s been known but I wouldn’t say it’s an absolute Rule” I replied. Meanwhile Ezra Collective were performing literally in the pit amongst the crowd during El Corazon which was brilliant and they ended with the gorgeous God Gave Me Feet For Dancing which I had totally forgotten was their song. What a lovely treat.
On the way back to the Very Big Stage I may have declared in a slightly merry and vulgar way that during 2026 it has felt Iike I can’t even take a dump without hearing Sombr. Though he has multiple songs all over the radio, I’m still not sure if I like them or not, and I don’t know if he is outright evil record company pop, or kid-on alternative. Pitchfork seems similarly bemused, labelling him “electronic dreamy mush” while awarding a 5.6 – sombr: I Barely Know Her Album Review | Pitchfork. I had never seen him and was a bit surprised to see he looked like David Bowie’s Goblin King from Labyrinth. He was also a pure cheesemonger, rampaging around the Very Big Stage waving a Sweden flag and saying he would love Sweden forever, and so on. I was really willing him on to refer to the wrong city but he didn’t.
Not to be outdone by Sombr, Lorde on the Quite Big Stage paused halfway through her very complicated and impressive stage show (lasers – moving boxes – dancers – multiple selfie cameras) to deliver her own 5 minute monologue. I became so convinced that she was filling in for a prop being fixed that it was quite hard to concentrate on what she was saying but it was along the lines of her having thrown out messages from New Zealand many years ago in the hope of finding an audience, and the magic of the Swedish summer. Stalling monologues aside I must say it was an absolutely engrossing show. She only did 30 seconds of Royals as wee bait at the start, but if there was a roof Supercut would have blown it off (I was barged again by excited Gothenburgers), and my enjoyment was only curbed when the dancers went too near the big heavy floating boxes (“please please get out from under that rudddy box”).
It was left to Gorillaz on the Very Big Stage to close Way Out West 2026. I’ve seen every iteration of the band, from the weird and crap behind-screens 2001 version, the opera house 2005 shows, the 2010 50% Clash supergroup, and so on. And I think this is the very best version. It’s multi-cultural and multi-generational and a juggernaut of great music. Yasiin Bey (formerly Mos Def), Bootie Brown and Pos from De La Soul are there in real life. Bobby Womack and Kali Uchis are on the screen. My highlights were Gothenburg’s very own Little Dragon (Damon: “she’s your Queen!”) appearing for Empire Ants and also To Binge, during which Damon very audibly dropped the mic. Maybe he’d had a few drinks after all. Rules Are Rules.
