Message to Love: The Isle of Wight Festival

More so than the Altamont debacle, the Isle of Wight Festival was the end of an era. Morrison and Hendrix would soon be gone, and the impracticalities of mass concerts like this is shown in all the turmoil that occurred here. This is a documentary movie with terrific musical numbers in a wild mix, from Leonard Cohen to Ten Years After, from John Sebastian to the Who, from Tiny Tim to Miles Davis to Taste. The most revealing glimpse into the future is the progressive rock juggernaut taking sail, with Emerson Lake and Palmer a million miles away from Joni Mitchell-type hippiedom. The invasion of the stage by a man during Joni's set serves to contrast the "do your own thing" attitude with the "let's tighten up security and make some money" realities which would become the norm soon enough. There's a middle ground here which is energizing. Certainly this is no Woodstock '99, which was simply a horrible evil place with no redeeming qualities.

i was there, 20 years old, with 2 other Italian friends (on a blue 500 fiat car), sleeping in 2 Canadian tents: Italians were a lot, anyway, and we met a few of them in Amsterdam - desolation row was full of french people, and many people were just taking' hard drugs, not even trying' to move from their sleeping' bags- i've recognized myself, thanks to you-tube excerpt, in the movie (that i'm gonna by via amazon tonight), and after 37 yrs i remember the camera that was shooting' me (sayin' then to my friends: i'm sure they will cut me out) - i remember also running' all the time to find a place, and a feeling' of tiredness, because of our long traveling' from Italy, via Yugoslavia, and then Holland, and then england (taking' with us coffee, pasta and Italian food, you know ;-) - real problem was the WC (don't talk about) - i bought in advance the tickets by mail, but we're the few, and the day people broke the fence was scary, really - the atmosphere, to be true, was more like a busy busy mess as a bee kingdom, and the weather not bad - the final night was like apocalypse now, in a way: i got fever and stomach illness :-( while Hendrix playing i went back late, tons of soda cans like Egyptian pyramids, fires everywhere, and fish&chips stands selling' for nearly nothing' all that remained - so we're finally eating' like wolves - OK, folks, that's all, for the moment - i have few b/w pix too (anyone interested?)

Sp, proud-i-was-there

PS any site of people who were there?

I remember the ferry ride over, carrying bags of drugs. Not mine, but carrying for a friend. It might have been speed, but since I only smoked pot I had no interest in it-no brains either, apparently!

We went for the whole 5 days because I could and didn't know any better. The organizers handed out paper sleeping bags to a waiting throng on the day we arrived. We slept out-side the gates - 20 ft. away - and ran for a decent position when the gates opened the next morning.

I don't remember eating or defecating, or very much of the music, but I have photos so I know I was there! I do remember people throwing glass pop bottles over the heads of those in front for some unknown reason, and even in my altered star realized they were idiots.

John Sebastien - Lovin' Spoonful - entertained the crowd acoustically for two hours because of some band not showing or technical reasons, I forget which, of course.

We walked up the Afton Downs hill and looked out over the English Channel. We saw people hundreds of feet below playing in the cold!! water. With a film crew shooting them. It looked forced. We also saw people fall from the top and bounce, slide and fall down the chalk cliffs. I've no idea what happened to them.

At the end, on Sunday, hundreds of thousands of people started the trek to the ferries. There may have been buses to Cowes, but we heard it was faster to walk the 4.5 mi. To Yarmouth and that's what we did.

I hope I'm in the movie, I was so much older then. I'm younger than that, now :-)

A very entertaining look at naive hippiedom. The glimpses and interviews with the not-so-well-groomed attendees are often hilarious (unintentionally) and sometimes heartbreaking (A man admits to regularly giving his 3 year old son acid and marijuana) The hippyspeak is also very enjoyable. The word "money" is never used--its always "bread, man" etc. The hippies feel that they have an entitlement to free music, (It was only $3 to get in. Boy, hippies were cheap) ,while the promoters claim that they are just trying to break even. Meanwhile some of the artists (Never "musician" or "bands", always the "artists") are not being paid. Tiny Tim wisely demands to be paid up front in cash. The diverging interest set up an interesting backdrop for the music- like when one promoter states that not so many port-o-johns are needed because its a well known fact that everyone gets constipated on vacation. This guy has never been to Mexico. With some exceptions, the music is of the plodding, indulgent, extended jams variety. Thank goodness, punk rock came around and ended people like Emerson Lake and Palmer from doodling on the synthesizer for ten minute stretches. Mix in a hook, ok? Their performance in particular reminded me of Spinal Tap as their pyrotechnics accidentally catches the entire stage on fire. Meanwhile the emcee asks the crowd if there are any fireman out there. We did like Ian Anderson's codpiece, though.

This film chronicles the 1970 Isle of Wight Rock Festival from behind and on front of the scenes. Incredible concert footage of Hendrix and Jim Morrison (both of whom died just after the festival) as well as numerous other pop, folk, and rock artists make this film wonderful just as a concert video. Even more revealing, though, is footage of the festival's production and management, including riots, rebellious patrons, break-ins, and mordant commentary on why rock festivals don't happen anymore. Beautifully paced and edited.