The Cool Camping Guide to Festivals

When we first arrived we stood for about 20 mins at the box office waiting for the chap on duty to finish his chat with the guy ahead of us, but this change of pace was by no means a deterrent. In fact, the complete lack of urgency proved a welcome contrast to city life.

The pervasive sense of calm on site did not however divert from the severity of the context – promoting sustainability. If anything, the laid-back social/economic interaction provided a tangible sense of the beauty of the way things can be; the way things should be.

When a distraught lady lost her son on Saturday, everyone within earshot offered assistance and within minutes, seconds even, mother and child were reunited. Amidst the exceptionally relaxed vibe, this condensed traumatic episode appeared in stark contrast. If you’re going to lose your kid, Sunrise Off-Grid is pretty much the safest place you could wish to lose them – they’d probably toddle back half an hour later, grinning, wielding a raw chocolate brownie and fully versed in the ways of Neolithic pottery.

Sunrise Off-Grid does what it says on the tin. The site is 100% off-grid i.e. completely powered by renewable energy sources and in support of its ethos of empowering individuals and encouraging a transition to sustainable communities, the whole site is testament to the cause – it’s one living, breathing manifestation of it’s own ideal.

Any inefficiency in other areas, such as poor public speaking skills and technical difficulties, did not detract from the prevailing message. Everyone was there with the same thing in mind: to teach, to learn, to share. And it’s amazing how resonant this was –context and place alter one’s perception and engagement levels and here the result was an engrossed and captive audience – not afraid to question, and not afraid to listen to the answers.

That said, some were obviously very comfortable with their place up front. John Harris held the attentive gazes of a tent full of people for what must’ve been at least a couple of hours of discussion on ‘lawful rebellion’, punctuating his servings of “truth” with a winning grin and a whole heap of readily- acknowledged cockiness. Fergus Drennan proved himself to be a charming guide as he led us around the edges of the field, delving into hedgerows to teach us the art of foraging and the unbelievable scope of variety it can bring to a diet. The man toys with a stinging nettle like it’s not out to get him, has been living off purely wild and foraged food for 6 weeks (46 left to go) and strongly champions leaf curd – ‘leaf curd is the future’. Fact.

One of the concepts highlighted throughout the festival was that of disconnection – from our environment, from natural cycles, from each other, from the results of our actions. The solution? re-connect with the Earth by taking off our shoes and going barefoot for at least 30 minutes a day – and no, standing unshod whilst having a shower doesn’t count! This, and many of the other ideas expressed this weekend will not be everyone’s cup of green lentil chai, but the underlying principles are such that we can all relate to them. You don’t need to define yourself as a hippy or new age spiritualist to come away from this festival with a refreshed perspective.

For me, the point of the whole experience was really brought home during a solar powered screening of (rather appropriately) ‘Home’.  As poignant questions were posed in the narrative the projector wobbled and the screen seemed to nod in agreement. When the film drew to a close, the word ‘together’ lingered on screen, and somewhere in the background, a voice carried across to us singing ‘one love’. In that moment, huddled in that tent surrounded by people united in mental and physical space, I felt overwhelmingly positive for the future.

(Cassidie Alder)

Following days and days of rain including a 24-hour downpouring on the Wednesday, the gates opened at 10am on Thursday to a record number of early arrivals. Wearing wellies, the party started as soon as people had put their tents up, and didn’t stop until long after David Byrne exited stage right wearing his fabulous tutu on Sunday evening. By Friday, the sun was out, the ground was drying. Saturday and Sunday? Scooorchio!

Big Chill 2009 – first impressions were it had a bigger crowd, lots more youth, more kids, and more proper grown ups. But best of all, the beautiful people were back. The Big Chill is over a decade old now and although the British summer is crowded with boutique festivals, this one seems to have kept in step. It’s about time it outgrew its exclusivity and got a bit more kickingly mental as the big scale established event it now is. A bullish programme of big established headliners Basement Jaxx, Orbital and David Byrne were just the ticket.

Friday warmed up with a Chris Cunningham audio visual show that was as dark as it was ethereal. Mixed feelings about this, on the one hand the indulgence was engaging, on the other its dark images were disturbing.

Headliners Basement Jaxx drew a massive, expectant audience, before launching into the thundering opener ‘Good Luck’. The crowd partied hard to hits ‘Jump ‘n’ Shout’, ‘Oh My Gosh’, recent release ‘Raindrops’ and the encore, ‘Bingo Bango’. There were a few unexpected moments too such as a breakdown version of Kings of Leon’s hit ‘Sex on Fire’ and a few bars of ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ before crashing into ‘Where’s Your Head At?’  They also previewed their new single ‘Feeling’s Gone’, which had tones of Stock, Aitken & Waterman. But it was a good moment – for half the audience at least. As always the band’s stunning vocalists and dancers added drama and theatrics – someone called it histrionics – but a big crowd pleasing dance act with a huge light show had been missing from Big Chill Friday night line-up for a long time, and it felt good to party.

Beautiful sunshine bathed Eastnor on Saturday and while listening to Helios’s ambient swooshiness everyone around us started slapping on the sun-block. Jazz legend Pharoah Sanders was amazing. At first he seemed a little intricate and demanding, but the fluency and prowess of his band had a mostly sedentary Big Chill on its feet cheering by the end.

Saturday night began with a reunited Lamb who had played at The Big Chill at the Larmer Tree Gardens a decade ago. The bass laden sound mix became a bit oppressive (unlike Emiliana Torrini‘s pained, exquisite tenderness on the next door Castle Stage, which seemed a bit more cheery). That said fans of the trip hop beats were bouncing like baby lambs, even if Lou Rhodes’s vocals were hard to distinguish at times.

Orbital was the anticipated reunion gig of the festival. Many festival goers had bought tickets just to see them. It was absolutely ram-packed in front of the main stage and anyone seeking an old school rave up courtesy of the Hartnol brothers wasn’t disappointed. People with arms outstretched were doing that monkey climbing a drainpipe/reach for the lasers dance not seen since ‘89. It was good to see these guys again and hear the anthems  ‘Chime’, ‘Lush’, ‘Halcyon’, ‘Satan’ and many more, including a favourite of the night, ‘The Box’. Afterwards it was a short stagger to the Coop tent to hear Horse Meat Disco play out their disco marathon with Teddy Prendergrass’s ‘Don’t Leave Me This Way’ and Toto’s ‘Africa’.

On Sunday, we were gutted to miss David Byrne (apparently the highlight of the weekend) but still, we had time for Norman Jay before we had to go. His Sunday afternoon session is a stalwart tradition of the Big Chill and whole festival turned up to have a blast in the baking sunshine. In years passed Norman played us samples of Dr. Martin Luther King’s 1963 ‘I Have A Dream’ speech. Poignantly, this year we were treated to President Barack Obama telling us ‘Yes We Can’.

DJs all over the site sounded better than ever this year. Highlights included Justin Robertson’s phenomenal main stage electro mash up, Todd Terje, DJ Format and Slam in the Coop club tent.

As the Guardian wrote in their review, The Big Chill has often been dismissed for being a buggy-wielding kids fest, when it’s more than that (actually, it was the Guardian who used to bang on about that, but never mind). Maybe they noticed a change because the kids’ entertainments had been moved out of the Castle Stage field. Hopefully this will revert to norm next year, the parents missed being on the fringes of live music, as much as the Castle Stage, quiet at times, missed their support.

In essence, The Big Chill is a big social, with lovely live background music, a few pocket raves going off and plenty of pretty spaces to flop down at to properly chill (doing whatever, with whoever, you fancy).

(Conor and Sam)

Brighton Gay Pride, August 2009

Poor old Brighton Pride has been victim to bad weather for two years on the trot now, but that doesn’t seem to be a deterrent to the 160,000 revellers who turn up for some spirited celebratory antics. Even if you’re not gay or proud, the event is a damn fine excuse to get colourful and soak up the atmosphere, literally!

Brighton hosts the biggest free pride festival in the UK and as of 2004 has been awarded official charitable status, which all helps to keep those floats afloat. Although the festival takes place over the course of week, Saturday is the ultimate culmination of colour, noise, nudity, music, and pink pleasures.

I ventured down to the Saturday Carnival Parade and Party in Preston Park, after all there’s nothing like a load of half naked men with bulging… muscles…  and pounding dance beats to furnish your face with a smile. If that doesn’t work for you, the spectrums of colour and rainbows that adorn every available surface – be it man, beast, house or machine – just might.  The vibe is all about freedom and acceptance and popular it is, too. The parade fills the streets of Brighton, with folks from all walks of life; leading the procession in a little mobility scooter was ‘the oldest gay in the village’. The picketing anti-homosexuality Christians weren’t as noticeable at the park gates this year, but I did see at least two Christian church floats marching and dancing, along with paramedics and police and bus services – the whole caboodle. The only threatening behaviour to be seen was coming from the sky, which soon turned into a reality.

Not long after the parade had turned its last corner, the first pitter-patters started. Alas, it was not the sound of anyone’s heart pounding with pride. I rode the stream of traffic to the park and once there, I managed to squeeze in a little bit of entertainment before I had to face defeat with the thousand others running for cover from the downpouring. Usually, at a sunny Pride, one can happily while away the hours on a patch of grass, drink in hand, in view of a myriad of intriguing characters. But this year we had to look for some undercover entertainment to escape the rain, and we found it in the Women’s Performance Tent.

Andrea Kenny & The Cavalry know how to belt out a tune. Any dampened spirits were deftly warmed by the billowing vocals of songstress Andrea. With some encouraging words and contagious beats, they had the crowd shaking off their rain-defiance and boogying to jumble sale blues in no time.

Back outside, some enterprising businessmen had the cunning foresight to sell ponchos and umbrellas. I saw one chap with a huge wad of cash in one hand, motioning for people to buy the last of his wares with the other. (Rain-lovers 1, rain-haters 159,999). From a distance, looking across the park, the view was of  a bouncy looking umbrella landscape, bobbing just above head level. It looked like fun. I rather wimpishly rammed myself on a train back to London, leaving behind a world of sodden but resolute celebrations, because (for most) even the rain can’t wash away the spirit of Pride. On the bright side, at least it didn’t rain on my parade!

(Cassidie Alder)

Y-Not Festival, July 2009

Nestled within the perfect Peak District triangle (Ashbourne, Matlock, Buxton) sits the brilliantly bijoux Y-Not festival. Despite being slap bang in the heart of Derbyshire, straight out of the pages of an Austen novel (and Kiera Knightley’s latest film), the site itself lacked its neighbouring magnificence, but the inspiring line-up made up for that.

The promoters’ commitment to fresh talent is critical to the festival’s success. 2009′s highlights included an enduring acoustic set from vocal range ripper Little Lost David, the raucous Nine Black Alps and ska-stompers The King Blues – and best of all, the sound production was excellent.

Y-Not has grown in just two years from a capacity of 500 to 4,000 in 2009, testament to the appeal of its back-to-basics ethos. Yet the festival still felt small in both scale and mindset, creating a unique house party vibe with a strong midland twang. You’ve pretty much cased the whole joint and said hello to your fellow campers at least once by the first sunset. Facilities wise, the basics were good but with no frills; there were loads of toilets, no queuing (and not at all stinky), with fresh water, recycling bins and very, very friendly stewards and staff.

For such a solidly music orientated festival the relative lack of side-shows and diversions wouldn’t necessarily present a problem… until the rainclouds move in. That’s when the comfort of healthy gourmet grub is needed. But this was burger or bacon sarnie territory, not a salad, falafel or noodles in sight.

It rains an awful lot in the Peaks because of its high altitude. Not as much as in the Lake District, but still quite a lot. Site managers were bringing tractors on site to pull cars out of the mud and frantically laying straw. They need much more ground tracks next year, in case it’s wet again; there were cars abandoned everywhere.

My 16 year old nephew, Jake, is a fantastic drummer so he wanted to check out the skills of the bands. He loved King Blues. He loved the dance tent, too, but that only got going for a few hours after the main stage closed. We both felt there was a massive lack of entertainment during the day and with everything contained within one field it had a goldfish effect on us. But we’d definitely go back and in fact it inspired Jake to be on stage himself one day. He thought that having such a musically cool festival on his doorstep was massively exciting.

Y-Not 2009 was wet but absorbing nevertheless. A full-blooded mid-summer weekender aimed largely at a late-teen/early-20s crowd.

(Shelly Preston)