I WANNA BE YOUR (SNIFFER) DOG
You walk down the gentle slope of the Matterly Bowl as the sun fleetingly glimpses through the dappled clouds, past the sniffer dogs and into the assortment of massive tents at Homelands. Judging by the puffing and jaw-drooping happening all around 12 hours later, it’s safe to say these weren’t the most talented K-9s the drug world has ever seen. It’s hard to imagine how a 17-hour rave in a field would go off if they were.

But there’s much more to Homelands than boggle-eyed teenagers getting off their face outdoors. There’s a smooth progression from the afternoon stroll in the sunshine, to the feverish hysteria of the big name evening period, and on to the dark dementia of the late-night powerhouse DJs. Situated in the enclosed dip of the venue, the tents are close to each other, so it’s easy to flit from one to another, unlike the trek across the sprawling Speke Airport at Creamfields.

D-D-D-DON’T STOP THE BEAT
While the Irish crowd, fresh from an overnight land and sea journey, hit the floor first to POD favourite Robbie Butler, one of the big early draws is Junior Senior -the Danish odd couple whose ‘Move Your Feet’ has rapidly become a universal good time tune. The single is duly provided and the crowd predictably go nuts, carrying the vibe through the rest of the set. “Thanks for staying after the song”, Senior says afterwards, and he probably means it. Their songs are cheesy dancefloor fillers, but they have an endearing quality that draws you without struggle into their sense of fun.

Elsewhere Jacques LuCont, sans the flame-hair is ploughing through the genres in a tag team set with Daft Punk’s manager Pedro Winter. LuCont is undoubtedly a strange bird. Between moonlighting as a part-time bass player for Madonna, releasing loving pastiches of eighties retro cheese he has somehow found the time to become a rather useful DJ. Unfortunately he is still prone to the odd mishap as the appearance of Strauss's 'Thus Sprache Zarathustra' on his latest Fabric mix will testify. Thankfully today he mainly eschews the irony in favour of some quality electro house, whilst dropping in his party trick, Eurythmics ‘Sweet Dreams’, as if planting Annie Lennox-like seeds in the minds of the crowd.

WE’RE GONNA ROCK DOWN TO ECLECTIC AVENUE
If electro is the current buzz of choice, then it is shortly to be replaced by eclectic. Homelands leads proceedings, devoting a whole arena to the music mashers and their hip bootlegging. The track of the festival is not some syrupy house pap “uncovered” at the Miami music conference, but The Stooges’ ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog’, which makes a number of appearances at different stages of the day. The song has almost become the signature tune of 2 Many DJs, but the duo are smart enough to add a harder techno edge to their late evening set. Fresh from the globe straddling success of their essential mix album, the only cool people in the whole of Belgium are playing The White Stripes’ ‘Seven Nation Army’ to a bunch of ravers. Perverse as that may seem, the stomping bassline doesn’t appear out of place. The genre busters follow this up with a set mostly comprised of electro-tinged house with a healthy dollop of Justin 'Mini Michael' Timberlake, and, of course, The Stooges.

Dexter, from Australia’s Avalanches, follows, with his usual eccentric yet inspired musical ramblings. At one point he brilliantly merges Fischerspooner with Missy Elliot, and bizarrely ends up at hard rockers, System of a Down. Ninja Tune’s DJ Food has a tougher task given his 3am slot. It’s a difficult time to attempt his playful and experimental cutting style but he finds a small and enthralled audience. After an initial period of jazz wibbling, he gets the dancefloor moving with a solid selection of upbeat grooves. He throws in plenty of deck trickery, involving lots of incredible tempo manoeuvrings including a feat of beat manipulations leading into Eve’s ‘Blow Your Mind’.

FROM THE RIDICULOUS TO THE SUBLIME
If there is one grave error in the Eclectic tent, then it was very much a tranquility-shattering blow on a nice afternoon. There are some things in this world that just don't go together -curry and ice cream, snow and piss, knife throwing and babies, dyslexics and Countdown, me and Judge Jules. As I cast my eyes towards the stage there before me stood the antichrist himself, invading my personal space like a randy Scotch terrier. I immediately commenced a protest by pouring several gallons of petrol over my head and violently rubbing together some handily placed twigs. Sadly my grasp of neo-lithic fire starting is not what it used to be and the timely intervention of my erstwhile partner in crime spares me from an early grave. I drag myself and my bleeding eardrums from the tent vowing never to return.

But that vow is swiftly broken, but deservedly for it’s to catch one of the true highlights of the day -hip-hop legend, Grandmaster Flash. His early evening set is, ahem, intent on getting the party started. His dropping of 'The Message' followed by Queen's 'Another One Bites The Dust' is a rare joy. With Flash himself in top form and the presence of a Leyroy from Fame lookalike dancer this set was always gonna be a winner. An enduring memory of the day remains Flash bellowing, “I want you muthafuckas to put your hands in the air if you think Michael Jackson is the still the king of Pop”, and having a pretty unenthusiastic response rectified as the opening bars of ‘Billie Jean’ wiggle their way round the tent.

THIS IS HARDCORE
Amongst the sun-loving, party types there are the truly devoted, happy to set up camp in one arena and stay entrenched. The drum’n’bass arena fills up quickest. By early afternoon, Ray Keith has dropped the biggest bass line so far and the converted are happy to be preached to. And why not? The Movement tent plays host to a number of new projects, including Photek’s ‘Do Or Die’, and Krust and Die’s ‘I Kamanchi’ collaboration. Brazil’s DJ Marky scratches up a storm and the arena heaves to big bass lines all night long.

Meanwhile in Arena 4 the techno-heads were getting seriously wound up about Jeff Mills. “He’s like God, his sets take you to another world” one feverently declares. While it’s true that his performance is a blur of movement as he spins from his records to the decks to apply rapid cuts and fades, it’s almost akin to avant-garde jazz in rising to a level of alienating technical perfection.

If it’s tunes you want then Scottish duo, Slam are the men for the job. They seem to be mellowing somewhat in their old age and their trademark techno sound has undergone a transformation in recent times incorporating a more house orientated groove. Nonetheless few DJ’s can keep a room moving in quite as impressive fashion. With the crowd bouyed by the tech-house of Dave Clarke, Slam showed a masterful control of poly-rhythms and progression, whilst managing to keep things simple. They seemed content with rocking the dancefloor rather than the world of techno.

LADIESSSS AND GENTLEMEN. . .
As the evening draws on the events began to happen. Roger Sanchez blasting out house in Arena 2, Oakenfold doing likewise in Arena 1, and the Chemical Brothers performing a tepid accompaniment to a laser show in the same tent. As rumours abound of a return to form ahead of their forthcoming collaboration with Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips, watching The Chemical Brothers you can't help thinking that it would be well overdue. Once famed for incendiary sets mashing up techno, house and break beat, their crown has slipped somewhat in recent times and this set is pretty uninspiring.

Over in the Main Arena, The Street’s Mike Skinner is very apologetic. “Don’t worry your night will start soon” he assures everyone, anxious perhaps for the beat-hungry crowd, perhaps for himself. But he needed have worried as, after a slow start, he delivered a storming show that wouldn’t have disappointed anyone. The slyly introduced ‘Let’s Push Things Forward’ is brilliant and the raucous ‘Don’t Mug Yourself’ sets off a mass-bouncing epidemic. Kicking a giant beach ball into the throng, Skinner announces, “your night starts now” as a souped-up, house version of ‘Weak Become Heroes’ provided a blistering end to the show.

Groove Armada soon follow and their superb live set is a predictable success. Whether it’s the lazy trombone of the classic ‘At The River’ or the spectacular mirror-ball light show of ‘Easy’, they pull out all the stops. And even after the stomping ‘Superstylin’ is rewound and begun again, the crowd continue to bay for more. If rumours of their split are true then this is a fitting way to remember them. And with that the live arena closes and you step out into the beginning of the night after.

THE FREAKS COME OUT
Now it’s time for the proper raving to begin as darkness envelopes the Matterly Bowl. By the time the sun rises again, it reveals a large scattering of prone bodies wrapped in blankets purchased for £5 from an ingenious stall owner, sleeping their way to the end in tents where the music has gradually ceased playing. The drum’n’bass crew are naturally still going to the end, and the Plump DJs manage to keep things lively with a good breaks set. But the real action is going on in the Bacardi Bar, where Luke Solomon’s Freaks project deliver a storming live set paving the way for house legend Derrick Carter to do what his does best, namely, dropping smooth, soulful and disgracefully funky house music. Against all the odds he even manages to energise the remaining dancers.

MORNING IN-GLORY
As dawn breaks and the roused ravers gradually rise and stumble towards their cars and buses, Homelands 2003 comes to a close. This year it has proven itself to be more than just a ‘rave in a field’. With a line-up more accessible and enjoyable than ever before, it has stamped its name on the festival season as the only way to kick off the summer.

words & photos: Colm Larkin and Shane Herraghty

Check out Eyeballkid's Homelands photo gallery here.

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