After the triumphant experience of managing the main stage at Metal Magic, I lingered around Denmark for another fortnight. Working on a gruelling festival tour that took me around the country and to the limits of endurance.
Celebrating it’s 43rd summer, Grøn Koncert is a mainstay of Danish Pop Music, raising money for Muskelsvindfonden – a support charity for Muscular Dystrophy. Uniquely, the festival shifts to a new city every day, with four consecutive shows each weekend and a few days respite in between. A schedule that demands a two-stage site build and take down at every location, starting way before the crack of dawn and finishing well past the Witching Hour – before the convoy rolls along to the next destination.
A challenge of such intense insanity needs an extensive extreme crew, of which willing volunteers were recruited from the Academy back in blighty. A hand-picked cadre of adventurous souls offered free flights, board, and beer in exchange for honest labour across long hours. Earning experience and bragging rights along the way.
Each volunteer was asked to pick their preferred crew schedule. Up Crew for the morning shift, building the site then additionally working bars and entrance. Down Crew got the evening shift, with some bar work up until the headliners stepped off the stage for the take down. Not one to ever test myself lightly, I chose both.
As part of the renowned Multi Crew, our days became a blur of Rock and Roll excess and accumulated fleshwounds. While other crews slept off site at schools, we lived from our bunks on a cramped yet cosy “Hotel” bus. Rolling onto site at about 3am to launch straight into a build that wrapped by midday, then relaxing with a few hours hard drinking before crawling back onto the bus for some bass-pounding sleep behind the main stage. Re-emerging in the evening to tear it all back down, then hitting the road around 1am to drive to the next stop.
Assigned to the main stage, I found the challenge overwhelming at first. Twice as old and sometimes half as strong as most of my peers, I felt myself a liability. Clambering comically over truss to get out of the way and working at tiptoe heights that others took in their Danish stride. My concerns were not that the work was too harsh, but rather that I could not contribute effectively to the team’s expectations.
In time I got over myself. Learning the process with rote familiarity so I knew where I needed to be in advance. Proactively grabbing tools and getting to work before being told what to do, and generally applying myself to the best of my ability. By the end of the first block of four dates, I was giving my all with pride and determination.
Admittedly, the music was not to my taste. Although I found Benjamin Hav’s occasional foray into sax-heavy Ska a jolly throwback to my youth. Hip-hop headliners Suspekt were definitely not my thing, but I absolutely admire their enthusiasm and decency towards the crew – even inviting a few of my ‘fellow kids’ up on stage to join them. It is no surprise some members had also worked Grøn themselves in the past, and their respect shined through in deed.
Relying as ever upon the international ‘Daryl Support Network’ to keep me sane under pressure, I took solace with occasional off-site escapades. The opportunity to meet up with friends old and new across the country was eagerly taken, and I am grateful for the grounding conversations which grew from such connection.
Resting midway at a sports hall near Aalborg, the wind down was appreciated – along with slightly better food options. A chance to connect more with the various crews, sharing drinks and dance away from work and expressing my ultimately unwarranted concerns.
An Academy crew meal at a nearby pizza restaurant offered chance for the students to decompress and take stock of how things were going. For some, it was their first trip overseas for any length of time, and although others were veterans there was still a hint of homesickness in the air. The Danish way of doing things a culture shock for many, not least in recalling their accommodation’s communal showers.
Showers of a different ilk came later that evening. With the news of Ozzy Osbourne’s passing a shock to all in the restaurant, the heavens opened up in response. Splashing our way back to the hall in sombre reflection, a few of us recalled our favourite songs in tribute.
That night had a maudlin pang to it, with a troubled air mostly unexpressed beyond unhealthy coping mechanisms. Although not everyone present held the man in as much reverence as others, there is no denying his influence on music and culture as a whole. For my part, it was important to remind the younger generation that Rock and Roll would be far less potent without a hellraising legacy of such renown; and the man most knew from MTV had first inspired countless multitudes through song and stagecraft. Tears were quietly shed and respect given as folk flitted through the corridors and quietly went their way around.
The breakneck pace offered little time for reflection, and a return to better weather in the morning took us straight to the fifth location, Esbjerg. Where all crews had an extra night to set everything back up after the break, with the reward being an evening of partying on the main stage itself. More fun to be had with a cover band led by one of Multi Crew themselves.
However, the clear skies were not to last, and the next day saw dark clouds ominously encroach as main stage popsters Alphabeat launched into “10,000 Nights of Thunder”. The rain fell incessantly within minutes, flooding the festival site and city itself, forcing an unprecedented show stop and site evacuation.
Surveying the damage a few hours later, it’s fortunate that everything mostly survived. With relay towers moated by newly formed lakes, it was obvious cleanup would take far longer than expected. But we still managed to get everything packed down and loaded onto the trucks at a reasonable hour – even if driving them off the site required the aid of heavy duty tractors.
It is often said that stage rigging has its roots in seafaring tradition, with the ropes, chains, and pulleys required of the trade hearkening back to the age of sail. This was made blatantly clear during moments of less-than-perfect weather such as this, as manually sewn-and-strapped side skins billowed in the slightest breeze – demanding steady hands on the rope to lash them down.
The shock of the flood took a fair toll on my immune system, not least by a barrage of mosquito bites, and I had to sleep out the next day’s build in recuperation. Thankfully the minor gripes weren’t anything too serious, and with a boost of electrolytes and a few extra cups of coffee I was able to get back to work that night. There was no time to be poorly!
The last few days went by smoothly, with any residual uncertainties quashed by will, graft, and camaraderie. As the last sing-a-long site check in Valby ensured the grass was mostly how we left it, the tour was over. The final formality being a get together with the organisers to debrief and congratulate ourselves on a job well done.
Would I do it again? The first few nights were a slog, but as I got used to the process things got easier. Had I been offered opportunity to go home on the first few days I would have considered it.
But even in the struggles of self-doubt there was a determination that kept me going. Not so much shallow pride, but unflinching authenticity. We don’t know our limitations until we push beyond them, and there was nothing I couldn’t do without a bit of effort. An investment in introspection and a reckoning of my capabilities, with every cut and bruise betraying a deeper truth.
With hindsight I would prepare better. Not just in matters of strength and stamina, but packing more appropriately for crew bus life. Any discomfort was fleeting, and the personal rewards absolute.
Would I recommend it to others? Free beer, although alluring, is seldom free. I would not downplay how difficult it was at times. The lack of sleep, the physical intensity, the long hours, the sometimes curious catering. It was not for the faint of heart nor those unwilling to endure. But perseverance brings subtle reward – the quiet triumph of accomplishment in the chaos of the unknown, and the realisation of oneself beyond the comfort of convenience.
Some didn’t make it through. Dietary concerns, injuries, or the sheer weight of the experience compelled early flights back. This is no failing of those who departed. Everyone follows their own path towards the person they need to be, and there is purpose in every choice.
But ultimately, tempered by storms weathered within and without, we each found our way home.
