Hard Rock Calling
28-29 June
Hyde Park, London

It is a surprisingly hot morning on the weekend of the second Hard Rock Calling festival in Hyde Park. Scores of people make their way towards the southeast corner of London’s park as the two-day festival (previously called Hyde Park Calling) prepares to go into full swing.

Saturday

California boy Jason Mraz’s airy tunes go perfectly well with today’s actual summer temperatures. He starts with hit The Remedy, which gets nods of recognition from the many Clapton-shirt wearing baby boomers who may not have known the name Mraz but have heard the song somewhere. He does a Wonderwall medley halfway through a jam session as a nod to his British audience, who return the gesture with cheers and inevitable sing alongs. Backed up by a rather good band he plays some songs off new album We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things., including single I’m Yours, much to the delight of girls giggling at the singer’s hugely projected sun-kissed face. Mraz uses his festival appearance to showcase this and a couple of other songs from the new album, but aware of the predominant audience member type (60s/70s classics-loving) he pleases with perfectly appropriate covers of the Bee Gees’ Summer Breeze and Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds. These are well received and Mraz walks off leaving even the staunchest hippies pleased with his laid back Californian vibes.

After Mraz is a fellow American whose guitar playing turns the heads of impatient Clapton fans. John Mayer opens with Waiting On the World To Change just as the weather itself changes to a more English overcast. People idling around food and drinks stands leave their queues to go see him as he tells the crowd he hopes he has it easy among blues guitar aficionados. Indeed, every song has solos ranging from respectable to worthy of being below Clapton’s name on the bill. As Mayer strums out, reactions vary between instant acceptance and due scrutiny, but his blistering solo in closing number Gravity seems to get everyone’s seal of approval. Out of all the day’s performances, Mayer’s blues-infused rendition of Duffy’s Mercy has the most overarching effect, fusing a loved chart topper with the kind of music the people came to listen to. During this number, as if by an act of music gods, the clouds above part while he slices the air beneath them with his riffs and licks, and the sun shines again. He walks off casually and rather triumphantly at the same time, thanking the audience (and the many jovial Americans in it) for paying attention.

The crowd is left salivating for more ear-splitting guitar after Mayer’s unanticipated triumphant stint, but there is still one more performer before Clapton melts the stage. Sheryl Crow interacts with her audience more than any of the other artists, probably aware of its growing restlessness in anticipation of the night’s headliner. Despite some sound mishaps, she does not disappoint as she performs one hit single after another, including Favourite Mistake, All I Wanna Do (during which any remaining seated females jump up enthusiastically), Everyday Is A Winding Road and Soak Up The Sun (still appropriate at 7:30pm thanks to long summer days!). It seems like most people know the songs but are not aware they are all by her, and every time a new one starts, cheers ring out in recognition. Crow does a short bit from the song that seems to be the theme of the day (it gets played routinely between acts), I Can See Clearly (“now the rain is gone…”) and is the only one to bring out the political when she talks about gas prices and crazy politicians. As the third consecutive American to play, she also pays tribute to famous Brits with a stint of Gimme Shelter and her version of The First Cut Is The Deepest. She leaves the stage clamouring support for the next act and fails to hide her own enthusiasm as the crowd slowly but surely grows denser.

Eric Clapton calmly walks onstage, guitar in hand, without much announcement and to roaring applause. The euphoria is palpable. He doesn’t speak much and eventually sits in the middle of the stage for a long acoustic set that includes blues tunes not widely recognized but commonly accepted. He does not reserve solos for his electric instrument; his acoustic harmonisations are not lost in the open night air. Admiration flows in the way of glassy eyes and frozen smiles on heads that shake in disbelief. Slightly gaping mouths on flat expressions denote the numbness of others as Clapton jams through songs, his fingers executing perfection and his voice bearing its familiar pleading casualness. Wonderful Tonight gets phones waving in the twilight air and the close up of his face on the screens show the still present emotion even during a massively overplayed song. Running On Faith strains his voice in a way that goes perfectly with the song’s words. When he finally stands up and plugs in, his guitar shoots electricity into the speakers and across the park. The opening riff to Cocaine is maddening, but it is all building up to Layla.

Before the arguably most famous riff in music is heard, the band takes a longer break between songs than they’ve been doing before and the drumstick count holds off to build an already overflowing tension. And then it starts. Arms go up in triumph, heads shoot back in delight and an otherworldly five or so minutes follow. The band plays the full version of the song including the piano bit at the end, and then it’s over. Energy is still clinging in the air when John Mayer and Sheryl Crow join him onstage for a jarring rendition of Crossroads before the final bow. Instruments start getting unplugged but vibes are still cutting through a darkened Hyde Park as festival goers scatter out, the sound of guitar magic still ringing in the warm air.

Sunday

80s female sensation The Bangles open with Manic Monday much to the delight of women who seem to consider this a rock number and emphatically sing along to the song’s repeating chorus. The karaoke reaction continues each time they play one of their many hits, with loving husbands/boyfriends nodding on condescendingly. The one that makes all the girls think they can sing is, of course, Eternal Flame, and the joint effort during this one is fun enough to grasp the crowd’s attention during other lesser-known songs. The girls tell the audience that they have released a record “in this decade,” believe it or not, and play some tunes off of this before closing of with 80s anthem Walk Like An Egyptian, which undoubtedly results in Egyptian poses from everyone (even those who hadn’t bothered to pay attention before.) The Bangles continue the apparent festival trend of sampling songs in between songs by throwing in bits of Mrs. Robinson during Egyptian before leaving the stage.

Unfortunately technical difficulties are not the only factor marring Starsailor’s performance. What The Bangles lacked in crowd enthusiasm they made up for with interaction and instantly recognizable songs. Starsailor, however, start off with barely an introduction and go through their set with little effort to rouse the generally friendly audience. The effect is evident in mild applause even after some of their better known tracks such as Good Souls and Fever. The whole affair is bland and the band have to ask for a sympathy cheer (“Come on, Hyde Park”) before playing a final song and walking off.

The next performance is the complete opposite thanks to Scottish sensation KT Tunstall’s seemingly inebriated energy. She doesn’t take off the black Ray Bans she says are absolutely saving her life at the moment. Unlike with the festival’s previous female acts, Tunstall animates men and women alike, boosting the audience’s energies again. In between songs she talks extensively and can’t seem to keep still. She and her guitar dance all over the stage during Dark Horse And The Cheery Tree, which gets a thousand “woo-hoo’s” every time that moment of the song arrives. She closes with Suddenly I See, leaving the audience revitalized for the very long awaited arrival of the headliners.

Seconds after the members of The Police walk onstage the opening chords to Message In A Bottle are heard across the park, sending up more cheers and phones into the air than on any other time that day. Sting is sporting a black ensemble and some facial hair and is ever the friendly performer as he walks to far ends on both sides of the stage. Meanwhile, Andy Summers takes centre stage during his solos, which are striking enough to get all eyes on him while Sting’s bass gives out that familiar Police sound. No song is too long or too short or too different from what the throbbing crowd wants to hear. All the classics are revisited, with Sting’s signature howl echoing into the night during Don’t Stand So Close To Me and all sorts of silly dances splicing the crowd during De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da. The moving guitar/piano harmonies of Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic makes at least one woman teary-eyed as she sways in the build-up to the rocking chorus every time before the song’s final repeating lines (no need to mention the thousands of voices yelling in unison).

It has been one long-run highlight since the band came onstage, but the moments of sheer thrill come at the encore as every single person bowels out the same woman’s name. The screens show a jubilant Sting looking out across waves of people, arms in air, jumping to the legendary tango beat of Roxanne. Indeed, the three Police men seem to be soaking up every second of what is supposed to be their last UK performance, and when the drumbeat and riff to Every Breath You Take begin, it really is the summit of what everything else has been rising up to. It is a perfect rendition of the song; its soothing ethereal vibes going down into the swaying crowds as dusk settles. One final moment of Police bliss comes with Next To You as the second encore, and after this the band bow to Britain for the last time.

The morning after Hyde Park awakens like any regular Monday despite having been grazed by fine musicianship - for the most part - during the past two days (three, including the Mandela birthday gig on Friday). An alleged 35,000 people attended on Sunday alone, with likely the same amount present on Saturday. It’s also worth mentioning that this all occurred on the same weekend as Glastonbury festival, but the massive turnout to see the peerless headliners and generally worthy support acts proves some Brits still prefer festivals with no muddy camping involved.

Christina Cromeyer Dieke