Monsters Of Rock

Think of Donington's Monsters Of Rock and you'll probably think of the Dunlop bridge, disgusting portaloos and botulism burgers. But would you think of grown men collapsing in pools of vomit and plastic cups of urine being hurled at the stage? You probably should.
Before the rubbishly-named Download Festival, Donington Park used to host the Monsters Of Rock festival most years. It was classed as a festival despite lasting only one day and showcased some of the best rock acts going. I was lucky enough to be there twice, in 1994 and '95.


1994
In 1994 I had a stress fracture in my foot due to some dubious second hand army boots I always wore and I was off work sick as a result. Not too sick to rock, though. I bought a ticket the day before the festival with a friend and arranged to meet him outside Darlington bus station at 6:30 the following morning.
I arrived with only the most important of supplies: two bacon sandwiches and a bottle of Bell's. Once on the bus we got talking to a guy named Dave who was travelling by himself (and who curiously told someone else his name was Tony) and the three of us shared the bottle of whisky and then his bottle of rum, which was terrible. We stopped at a service station about halfway there and were appalled that they didn't sell booze, but we did manage to laugh at a guy who was wearing a leather jacket with the cover art from an Extreme album painted on the back, so it wasn't a total waste of time.
I believe the coach journey took about 4 hours, but due to drunkness I wouldn't swear on this in a court of law. It was quite a walk from the coach park to the entrance and halfway there, Dave/Tony - who was now wearing a German army helmet - announced that he needed to pee. Expecting him to race over to nearby bushes, we stopped walking. But no. he decided to do it right there in the middle of the road while hundreds of horrified festival-goers walked past and tried not to look.
Once we were given everything but the full cavity search by security guards, we entered the arena. Thousands of metal fans milled around or lay on the grass smoking, drinking and talking and we were in awe. A band was already playing when we arrived, but our collective expert opinion was "these are shit" so we headed to the beer tent. We bumped into half a dozen people we knew who had travelled on another coach and continued our quest for liquid refreshment together. As is the norm at festivals, beer was only served in plastic cups and for some reason you could only buy two or four at a time (three? begone, you outcast). The sensible thing would have been to buy two each, or perhaps even share, but what's metal about that? Everybody bought four each and there was a good deal of spillage due to jostling before we found our way out of the tent.
There were two stages that year, so a good deal of walking was involved. This proved difficult for me with my dodgy foot, even with so much liquid anaesthetic. The first band of the day that interested me was Biohazard who were playing on the second stage. We seemed to be miles away, but the sound was pretty good. They were encouraging stagediving and welcoming people to get on stage with them and unfortunately, security didn't like this. They pulled the plug on them after just a couple of songs. In an extreme show of metal, the band then trashed the dressing room and pissed off. Disappointing for fans though. Back to the beer tent.
Next up were Pantera on the main stage. They were good, but from where we were standing, the sound was terrible. Sepultura (from Brasiiiiiil) were up next. They were the best band of the day by far and they gave a good deal of material from their latest album, Chaos AD, an airing.
I caught bits and pieces of other bands too, but not much worth mentioning music-wise.
There were two other incidents worth mentioning from 1994.
1: A few of us refilled our beer cups in the toilets and, carrying our hideous beverages, fought our way as close as possible to the stage where Extreme were playing. The "drinks" were then thrown at the band. Tragically none of them made it and a lot was spilt on ourselves and those near the front of the stage. We made a hasty retreat.
2: While headliners Aerosmith were playing, we saw a guy holding up a tape recorder, obviously making a bootleg recording of their set. In an extremely adult fashion, three of us stood right behind him and screamed obscenities for a little over an hour. Aerosmith never thanked us for thwarting this piracy. The bastards.

1995
As this was my second year, I considered myself something of a veteran. I travelled on a coach with six others I knew and met at the bus station with the official Donington packed lunch: two bacon sandwiches and a bottle of Bell's. I quickly realised the potential by giving one of the sandwiches away to one of the lads who had a case of McEwans Export with him. He'd had it in the freezer all night, so it remained cold all the way. Two guys from Newton Aycliffe eyed us with jealousy as they drank their 20/20. During the obligatory services stop, children were scared as a group of drunk, hairy men hurled themselves into a ball pool.
It is a known fact that you can't take cans or bottles into the festival site, but one of my friends had a small plastic bottle full of Jack Daniel's. He refused to surrender this and downed it in one. Once inside, he slept on the grass for three hours.
We caught the tail end of Corrosion Of Conformity who were less impressive live than on record, then we went to the beer tent in shifts so as to keep our prime spot. While waiting in the queue, a heavily drunk man barged past everyone, obviously with the intention of pushing in.  Before anyone could challenge him, he collapsed and vomited a load of blue stuff all over himself - poetic justice.
Warrior Soul were incredibly poor and we passed the time by talking to people around us and trying not to look at the guy from Doncaster in denim shorts with half his junk hanging out. Next were Machine Head who had not long since released their debut, Burn My Eyes. They were great, but the crowd seemed uninterested.
White Zombie and Slash's Snakepit were both OK and at this point the guy who'd had the beer on the bus said he'd spied some other people he knew and asked us to look after his shirt and jacket while he went to talk to them. He disappeared topless and his jacket and shirt were left with us.
Slayer were fantastic and we did seem to be moving a little closer to the stage - when you're almost half a mile away, moving five feet is more important than you'd think.
Skid Row and Therapy? - who I also saw the year before - were both poor and no-one could figure out why they were so high up the bill.
Finally, what we had been waiting for: Metallica. A two hour show, all the favourites, medley of more obscure album tracks and snippets of covers to honour the other bands who'd played that day. A fantastic time.
When we got back to the bus, we waited for the stragglers to arrive until there was only one who hadn't made it back - our shirtless friend. As we'd moved a little closer to the stage, no-one had given his clothes a second thought, perhaps thinking he'd already collected them. He arrived at the coach nearly an hour later, highly intoxicated, furious and with no shirt or jacket. Worse news for him, he had to cancel his credit cards the next day as they were in his jacket pocket. He looked a sight walking home through the streets of Darlington topless at 3am.

They just don't do festivals like that anymore.