Ö÷²¥´óÐã

"Where's all my Newcastle people at? WHERE'S ALL MY NEWCASTLE PEOPLE AT?"

Thousands of people are going bananas in Donard Park, letting MC Maxim know EXACTLY where they are at, but I've just burst out laughing.

This is ludicrous. I used to play football in this exact spot, until I hit a certain age, when it became the setting for the occasional, erm... milkshake of a Friday night. My mum and dad still live about 2 minutes walk away and our dog Nelly's location of choice to do his wicked business is pretty much beneath that stage.

"The Voodoo people. The Newcastle people! Among the rolling hills! NEWCASTLE, hands in the air."

I can't stop laughing. It's been a weird day.

It's an amazing set up - lovely little arena, nice security and a surprisingly well behaved crowd. I'm here about six hours and I don't seeÌýso much as a scuffle. In 24 hours I'm told this park will be absolutely spotless. In fact, my dad swears it looks tidier than it did this time last week.

So we, the punters, kept up our end of the deal. Maybe now those who constantly whinged about the very concept of people having fun in this town, complaining to anyone who would listen and writing narky letters to the local press, will feel ashamed of themselves. And so they should.

The 'NIMBY' crew my dad calls themÌý- 'not in my back yard'. I can only assume that the single most disappointing thing about todayÌý- the lack of actual volume - was a result of their stinking attitude. SeriouslyÌý- I was front right for the , about 20 feet back from the speakers and was still able to have a conversation with my best mate's sister about seeing Prodigy play the Kings Hall on my 18th birthday.

During the summer, I would always hear the "Pipes & Drums" from my bedroom, yet my dad said he didn't hear a single whisper from Keith or MaximÌý- and he was out in the garden listening for it.

Despite the Prodigy giving it everything, as you'd expect, the atmosphere suffered. Keep in mind the bars shut at 10 and the gig curfew was at 11, yet someone decided this gig needed to be ridiculously quiet. Pathetic, really.

Pretending for a moment it was three times louder, it was incredible. Breathe, Voodoo People, Omen and Firestarter are all unleashed within about twenty minutes, by a five piece band who are not here to take it easy. They're on incredible form, as they should be, and everyone does their best to have some fun.

I'm just glad my day's nearly finished as the vein on my head had nearly burst with stress an hour earlier. After a catalogue of disasters trying to do my job (I'll not bore you) I was all set to interview Keith, Maxim and Liam at 8.30pm. They'd been great when I last spoke to them at Oxegen last year - funny, charming, enthusiastic, aggressive and determined all at the same time. So I was pretty excited.

At 8.15pm I get this message from their manager: "Road closed on way up, we're still maybe an hour away, still hope to get you a few minutes".

According to my (probably quite unreliable source), the band are the other side of roadworks somewhere near Clough. Oh dear.

I'm panicking slightly, knowing they're due on stage at 9.30pm. When they do arrive, I'm invited to meet them, but have a nightmare getting to their changing rooms. Deci, from the (who'd made an incredible attempt to steal the show during the day) claims he's been warned that no one is allowed near them. Even Deadmau5 (who remains the single most boring performer I've had the misfortune of experiencing) is on the other side of the fence surrounding the Prodigy's wee area. With his stupid hat.

Eventually I get in, but it's surely too late. The band are literally about to go on stage and are hyping themselves up. I'm mortified at being around them at such a crucial stage of their day. I've gatecrashedÌý- this isn't cool. Yet just as I'm heading back out to reality, their manager presents me with Liam Howlett, a man so legendary he's willing to give me a quick chat just before he danders up that ramp and onto the stage.

Here I am with Liam then, feeling more than a little self-conscious...

Flash plug-in required to view ATL video clips in the Ö÷²¥´óÐã Embedded Media Player

Not exactly Parkinson, but given the circumstances I was extremely grateful they'd acknowledged me at all, even if the resulting chat was so short it's barely worth broadcasting. I love Liam. In fact, all of the Prodigy remind me of Ìý- they're all sound, down to earth and extremely charming gents who seem to feel almost obliged to come across as cocky and confident, when it doesn't necessarily suit them. They're playing a game, I guess. They're playing it very well.

So back to Maxim, on stage in Donard Park.

"This one goes out to all the golfers. Can I hear all the golfers? ROYAL! COUNTY! DOWN!!!!" *

Warrior's Dance kicks in and it kicks off once again.

"What about the Tropicana? Tropicana in the house?!" *

I leave a little early, to set up for what ends up one of the most fun nights DJing I've ever had, at an unofficial aftershow in a wee bar up the road. My mum checks it out, on her way home from a function at the golf club, and ends up dancing in the booth with me, to No Good (Start the Dance).

I'll say it again - it's been a very weird day.

Ìý

* Dramatisation. These particular phrases may not have actually been spoken ;-)