Tuesday, 03 August 2021

Women are after only one thing...

IF the music of Rewind is to be summed up in two words it’s these: Peter Cox.

IF the music of Rewind is to be summed up in two words it’s these: Peter Cox.

For those not in the know, he’s the lead singer of Go West. He’s also the main reason why the hordes of 40-plus women come flocking back year after year.

And while he can still belt out a song with gusto, it’s not really his voice they’ve come to admire. “Peter Cox Is So Hot” read an enormous banner fluttering in the mosh pit as he limbered up for the group’s 1985 hit We Close Our Eyes late on Sunday afternoon.

The weather — unlike on showery Saturday — was sultry and warm, a lot of £30 jugs of Pimm’s had been consumed and as Cox launched into the song, a collective swoon echoed round Temple Island Meadows. In fact, if swoons could be measured on the Richter scale, he would register at least an eight.

This was Rewind’s fifth year and each time (I’ve missed only one) the Eighties fest gets bigger and more exuberant and the costumes more lavish.

Mark Urso-Cale, from Wantage, resplendent in a Robocop outfit, was born in 1976 and comes every year. “I love the music, the clothing, I love the whole era,” he said. “The atmosphere is so relaxed and laid back and everybody is so friendly.”

Mark Eaton, 49, from Whitney, sporting a Priscilla Queen Of The Desert outfit, said Billy Ocean’s set on Saturday night was “awesome” but the headline act, the B-52s, had “bombed”.

In fact, everyone I spoke to (including a Rewind official) admitted that the crowd just did not “get” the eccentric Americans.

The fact is, people come to Rewind for a nostalgia trip, to hear the bands that were big in the Eighties, like ABC, Heaven 17 and Nik Kershaw. For many of them, the B-52s with their bizarre dance moves and wacky lyrics were just a tad too alternative to register on their radar back then.

I guess the message to the Rewind organisers is: why try something new? If it ain’t broke...

Mind you, none of the ladies in the crowd seemed to mind Mr Cox trying something new. Two years ago, he sang a cover version of Kings of Leon’s Sex On Fire and the temperature in the field seemed to shoot up by a few degrees. I’m not sure exactly what was on fire but the woman next to me looked like she’d reached melting point.

This year, he did it again and was greeted with a tumultuous roar.

Personally, I don’t get Cox but then I seemed to be the only one in the 20,000-strong crowd who didn’t.

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