Linkin Park

Walking up to the main stage a few minutes before Linkin Park take to the stage in the last dying rays of the day, there is a glittering cloud circling in rapid rotationa over the front portion of the crowd - there is a good natured bottle fight going on. This is LP summed up – no piss, just water.

LP are the face of rock that jingles the tills, promising angst and rebellion but in a 'nice', 'safe' way. The group bound onto the stage with the expected swagger and we're off ripping through Hybrid Theory, Meteora and even a touch of Reanimation. But you get the sense that this could be any stage in the world, and I'm sure Chester's line of "..playing here is the greatest honour of our careers" is probably translated into a dozen languages depending on where the corporate caravan is – but, hell, it's still mightily enjoyable. The boys have even thoughtfully bought along some boxes to stand on so that everyone can see them. That's nice and polite.



The tunes are everything you would expect, and the crowd do – shouting along to every word and grabbing their crotches throwing their shirts off with abandon and yo-yoing with their hands. It's all as safe as houses, but no-ones complaining. It's not entirely clear how many of the audience are hardcore LP-er's or who would admit to it even if they were – but it doesn't seem to matter – for a band that have only had two albums [you can't count Reanimation] they seem to have enough to comfortably cover a 90 minute set that kept the crowd jigging along.

'With You', 'Somewhere I belong', 'Faint' and 'Crawling' all make their appearance, and each is rattled off with a professionalism that is admirable if a little flat – no veering off the road into uncharted territory here. And maybe that is the key to their success – keep it moving quick enough and almost anyone would like LP.

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