20:16: The Smashing Pumpkins hit the stage. Now, I know that James Iha and D’arcy Wretzky aren’t part of the re-united line-up. But given that he wrote all the songs, and played everything but the drum parts on every Pumpkins album, I think it’s fair to say that it’s Billy Corgan’s band. And I have to say, Corgan gets my vote for the most ballsy opening to a concert that I’ve ever seen. The Pumpkins begin playing ‘Today’ from their breakthrough album Siamese Dream, with it’s very distinctive plinky guitar part. They get through the first sixteen bars. Then, just as the first verse is supposed to kick in, without having sung a word…Corgan turns the microphone to the audience and has them sing it for him. “Today is the greatest day I’ve ever known.” Then he leaves it with the audience for the entire first verse, nodding slightly smugly and looking down at his guitar. “Yep,” he seems to be saying. “You know it. You love it. You know you love it. I don’t need to do shit.” It’s only for the second verse that he leans casually into the microphone and begins: “I wanted more…than life could ever grant.” At the first sound of his ever-distinctive voice, the crowd goes fucking nuts. It’s like they’ve suddenly all just realised that after so many years of waiting and hoping, this is actually Corgan and he’s finally here.

20:28: ‘Stand Outside Your Love’ is the song. It’s a cracker. I’ve heard that he’s had a difficult relationship with some of the crowds on this tour, but tonight, the crowd are in love. I’d never really realised, but Corgan is a massive human being. He’s towering over his bandmates, stooping over his guitar. He has a huge physical presence. This is probably aided by the sweeping floor-length skirt he is wearing, made of dozens of overlapping panels of silver fabric. It gives him an eerie and imposing look as he glides about the stage. The physicality is especially emphasised next to new bassist Ginger Reyes – she’s about four-foot-eight, despite her awesomely rooster-like haircut, and her slightness is emphasis by a shiny black cat-suit. I am very much in favour of this. Jeff Schroeder is looking good too in a snazzy suit, while Jimmy Chamberlin looks a bit more like he just wandered off the beach after passing out there overnight, but he’s still rocking out behind the drums. There are rumours of a keyboardist but I can’t spot her from here.

20:32: This is weirding me out. On the big screen to my right, the close-ups of Corgan shows that he is growing stubble. On his face. He has stubble on his face. Billy Corgan can grow hair. I always thought of his head as being some kind of alien billiard ball, shiny and rock solid. But he is somehow human after all. My world is upside down.

20:36: ‘Tonight, Tonight.’ Jesus fucking Christ, I have been waiting all my life to hear that song played live. Without the three-minute piano intro it’s not quite as epic or sweeping, but the experience is still fantastic. Corgan’s voice is every bit as good live as it is on the records. The band are tight. Nothing is missing. Then, the band melt away, and Corgan comes centre stage alone. Solo, with just a pick-up acoustic, he plays us ‘1979’. I don’t think anyone moves for the entire duration. Then they explode.

21:00: Corgan gets in a couple of classic references. Earlier, while standing on the speakers that jut out at the front of the stage, he gave us a bit of Hendrix-distorted ‘Star Spangled Banner’. Now, he diplomatically appeals to Aussie parochial sentiment. After the band lapses into silence, he says theatrically, “In the beginning… Bon Scott said: Let there be drums. [rolling drum sequence from Chamberlin.] And Bon Scott said: Let there be bass! [Bassline mixes with the drums.] God said: Let there be guitar. [Schroeder joins in.] God said: Let there be lights. [The plural is deliberate. Lights around the stage flood the audience.] I said: Let there be RAAAWWWWWWCCKKK!!!” This last is a scream that could strip paint off doorframes, held for longer than a human throat should be able to sustain. His larynx should have imploded. It didn’t. In the thunderous breakdown, he starts playing his guitar by scraping the strings against the corner of the speakers, eliciting a metallic squeal. Corgan is rock and roll.

21:08: There is a girl on someone’s shoulders watching the band. The security guy down the front is yelling at her to get down. It’s a rock concert. She can’t hear him. He’s standing up behind the front barrier, waving his arm in an up-and-down motion like some kind of b-boy, motioning her down. She’s not noticing, or pretending not to notice. Gilphex is standing in front of Security and starts copying his actions in mirror image. Security waves the girl down. Gilphex waves Security down. Security does a b-boy bounce. Gilphex does a b-boy bounce. Space Cowboy joins in. Everybody is bouncing. Security glares at Gilphex. Gilphex waggles his fingers and goes “Brrrrrppp!!” Security is pissed.

“You!” he says. Gilphex waves. “You!” Gilphex drinks some of his beer. “Oy!” says Security. “You. Do you want to come over? Do you want to come over?”

“I’d love to come over,” says Gilphex. “Should we have a cup of tea? Maybe play X-Box? Hey, you’re a really friendly guy.”

Security glares. There is a crucial three metres of massed humanity between him and Gilphex. You can watch him calculating the distance. It is just that bit too far. Finally he steps down and walks off. Gilphex has measured with pinpoint accuracy Security’s ‘can’t be fucked’ threshold, and coasted in just barely underneath it. Kudos.

21:15: ‘Bullet With Butterfly Wings.’ Despite all his age he is still able to scream out with rage. Billy, that is, not Gilphex. Gilphex is in the audience. He is not in a rock and roll band.

21:25: The Pumpkins ‘finish’. We know that they still have twenty minutes left, so we have a feeling there might be an encore. Credit to V Festival for giving them a full 90 minute slot. Sure enough, the band re-emerges, and Corgan begins ripping out ‘The Everlasting Gaze.’ He stops two bars in and says “Nah, I fucking hate that song.” But it’s a joke! Billy Corgan has a sense of humour and can grow hair. I’m about to burst a vein. He finishes the song. The band disappears, but Billy seems to like it on the stage. He wanders slowly down to the far end, in our direction. Then he stops there for a good couple of minutes, individually picking out the people waving and screaming in the crowd, and waves back to each of them individually. I’m serious. It’s a rock concert, and he’s looking for individual eye contact with everyone. One lucky punter even gets the double guns. From Billy Corgan. Imagine that on a t-shirt. He eventually meanders back down the stage, still waving. “Come on Billy,” people are screaming, “one more song”. The crowd even manages to get quite an organised chant going: “One more song…” Corgan stops and looks at us, then goes back to the centre microphone. “I’m gonna play one more song,” he says. Gotta hand it to him, the guy knows how to play a crowd. The band return and they launch full-bore into a ball-tearing rendition of ‘Cherub Rock’. The crowd surges. The song plays out. There are waves, and departures, and the lights are up. I think all of us feel like we’ve been part of something special.

10:15: Jammed into a corner of a tram with everyone on earth on board, with a small Asian girl wedged into my armpit (she is certainly worse off out of this situation) and a drunkard convulsively whacking me in and around the nuts (I am the loser here), I’m left to ponder my day. The atmosphere – fairly dead a lot of the time, though the gloomy weather wouldn’t have helped. It’s actually a relief that there weren’t more people there – as it was the festival was quite manageable, nowhere near the horror that is Big Day Out. The later starting time and earlier finish also helped it seem less exhausting than the average BDO. At the same time, it was lacking something of the intensity of the bigger festival. The over-18s ticket policy also made the day a bit easier and more pleasant for jaded old fucks like me. The line-up at V was good, but the result was solid rather than spectacular, except for the Pumpkins who made me happy in a special place. Overall, I wouldn’t have paid the $140 ticket price, even knowing in advance how good Corgan & Co. would be. Promoters really have to put a cap on these things. Especially with the amount we’re overcharged at festivals for food, drinks, and everything else, the ticket prices are insulting. But the promoters behind V seem to be organised, and everything ran smoothly, so there’s every chance this festival will get stronger as it goes along. For the final word, it was brilliant to go to a festival where the default beer was a decent brew like Cooper’s, instead of the regurgitated swill from Lion Nathan or CUB that we get everywhere else. Though the festival gods must really been fucking with my head when I start to think that seven bucks is a reasonable price for a beer. No, I’m heading home, where the goon bags spill from the broken shower and along the hall. At fifty-two standard drinks for a twelve dollar starting rate, you can’t go too far wrong.