Experience: I managed an artist who was kicked out of Reading Festival

I had to apologise to the entire backstage crew for actions I had no control over

I should have known this would end badly. Usually, I manage musicians through weeks-long tours, and I’m hired well in advance so that I can come prepared. More often than not, I end up making friends with the artists, and become their regular tour manager for future outings.

On this occasion, I was called in last-minute to look after a DJ duo, whom we’ll call SH, through the Leeds and Reading festival weekend, which takes place over the August bank holiday. The management had seemed unprofessional throughout the meeting, slagging off people I’d worked with, but I was transitioning into the pop/electronic world and needed the work.

The two young DJs we’ll call John and Owen. Things went smoothly on the Friday in Leeds, where they played to an enthusiastic crowd. I was supposed to return them to their London homes for a day off before their Reading performance on Sunday, but John asked to be dropped at another festival, Secret Garden Party near Cambridge, where he was meeting friends.

Come Sunday morning, both were ready for me to pick them up – although John was moody, clearly on a comedown. They warmed up as we got closer, getting excited and rowdy at the thought of playing Reading, a festival they’d attended as teenagers.

The sun was scorching as we arrived. I had all the passes in order, so we parked up right behind the Radio 1 Stage, where they were due to play. I settled SH into their dressing room, and went to get everything set for their performance.

They were due on stage around lunch time, so we agreed to eat after their set. I was looking after their meal tickets (I never trust artists not to lose them), and they said they could handle themselves on beer in the meantime.

Their set went off, even more than at Leeds. There were bodies writhing and people on shoulders from the front to back of the stuffed tent. SH commanded it all from the stage, everyone high on life – if not more.

Coming offstage, SH were absolutely buzzing and didn’t want to wait while I packed up their kit, instead hurrying to meet friends and drink champagne. We agreed to meet at catering once I’d put away their gear.

Twenty minutes later I showed up at the catering behind the Main Stage, but SH were nowhere to be seen. I tried to contact them but signal was poor. Eventually I got a text saying they’d gone to the catering at the NME Stage.

I hurried over there, arriving as John was being dragged out by four members of security. Before I could try to defuse the situation, a red-faced man stormed up to me, getting in my face and asking if I was SH’s tour manager. I confirmed I was, and he told me he was the stage manager, saying ‘you and me need to talk’.

He escorted me into a cabin where I was sat down opposite a distraught-looking woman. She was the artist liaison, and had been subjected to verbal abuse from John. They took me through the incident, telling me that John had approached catering to get some food and had been rejected because he didn’t have a meal ticket. He had reacted badly, shouting ‘I don’t need a f***ing meal ticket, do you know who the f*** I am? Feed me!’ The artist liaison had tried to calm him, but he had continued shouting and berating staff until security arrived.

All I could do was apologise profusely and continually throughout the 20-minute dressing down. At the end they pulled my sticky backstage pass off my shirt, told me I had to immediately get SH off site, and that they were never welcome back.

I accepted the ruling, but since we had meal tickets, I asked if I could fill up some take-away boxes (it was still my job to look after SH, after all). With generosity SH didn’t deserve, they agreed. As catering filled the boxes, I expressed remorse to the servers for John’s behaviour, feeling shameful though I’d done nothing wrong.

Next stop was security, but apparently John had wriggled away from them and the pair had last been seen legging it off site. The security guard pointed me in the direction and I eventually tracked them down on a dirt road outside the perimeter.

Surprisingly, they were in good spirits on the way home – but had plenty of choice words about the stage manager. They acted like the whole thing was a laugh and they dismissed the fact they’d been banned, joking ‘who the f*** wants to play Reading anyway?’

I would have liked to have lectured them about respect, but I needed the money and to maintain relationships with their management.

My job was to deliver them back to their homes, but they asked to be dropped off at a house party in West London, where they continued celebrating with people who were pissed from Notting Hill Carnival.

I drove home to Sheffield. The next day their management asked me to write a report about the incident, which I did.

I was never hired by them again.

Story by Mark McNeill, as told to Rob Hakimian