I often wonder what on earth is in the rambling minds of event organizers when they book a particular pop act for, let’s say the Budapest spring or autumn festivals. Last autumn we had St Vincent and now Little Boots for spring.
They both ended up on A38, the only difference from a classic gig being that it was darn complicated to buy the tickets.(All of this unnecessary hassle happening when I finally memorized my A38 user ID and password. Life’s not fair.) To add insult to injury, once you managed to trick the devilish system and purchase the much coveted items, you were told to religiously memorize a purchase ID, which then proved totally useless as at the scene of the crime a bored young lady ceremoniously looked through hundreds of envelopes labelled by name…
The ticket prices were intriguing as well, as St Vincent was dirt cheap for her category, whereas Little Boots was a tad pricey, a fact which was clearly visible in the rather diminished ranks idling away on A38 before the concert.
Strangely still, her gig was a short(ish) capsule of her hits, without an encore. Which is quite a pity given the fact that she does have some dance floor super hits in her back catalogue and could have saved a couple for a grand finale. By the time the crowd really got into the mood it was all over and everyone was politely invited to scram off into the night.
Quite awkwardly, polite is the word which best seems to qualify the gig. Little Boots herself was awfully polite, the people in the first row as well, we were politely told not to put our drinks on the stage then we politely put them there. Yet in the midst of this awful politeness you really felt the need for a good old rude disco track. But then, of course, you politely let go.