I used to be one of the itinerary geeks - marking set times on festival programmes with diligence and dedication. A tick next to every act I witnessed. 20 mins of this, the closing moments of that, this from start to finish… My festival scheduler mindset got me through much of my teens and 20s, ensuring that I never missed an important moment at any musical festival.
It served as a large part of my musical education - festivals granted unique access to several musical universes in the course of one evening, providing a young me a crash course into boundless worlds of sounds.
My first experience of a festival was T in the Park as a 16 year old. Myself and my two school friends were completely oblivious the wider range of temptations on offer at these gatherings - we were there purely for the music. My heavily marked programme guaranteed I saw the second half of Blur headlining the main stage, but before that: our itinerary ensured we experienced this thing called ‘Detroit Techno’ in the Slam Tent for the first time courtesy of a Mr Jeff Mills, before a witnessing a similarly bracing wall of sound experience for a local Scottish band we’d heard of called ‘Mogwai’ on the Other stage. BOOM! my teenage mind was blown - and my entire musical outlook diverted from the main stream course, never to return!
These adventures in music discovery took me to festivals all around the world, and eventually led to me performing in many of the ones I’d visited as a punter. As I became a festival veteran, my approach started to slowly change…
In recent years, I’ve been far less wedded to the schedule and have been taking my own in advice by going with the ‘flo(w)’. I’d like to use this article to highlight four festivals that I’ve experienced this year. Combined, these outdoor gatherings have renewed my belief in the human collective spirit - a belief that has been somewhat challenged in recent years (without too much of a digression: the techno-utopian vision that I once held dear has been significantly shaken by rampant levels of commercialisation, performative politic-ing and large levels of grifting from certain parties within ‘the scene’).
In all cases, I basically travelled alone to these events. Technically I’m ‘working’ as I performed at each and all I just stayed for one night rather than the full duration. But I travelled to each knowing that I’d know at least a handful of people - in all cases those people didn’t necessarily end up as being the people I hung out with… which I realised is part of the fun - no agenda, no meeting points, faffing but in a good way: endless adventuring!
What I realised is that festivals are one of the few places in this modern and ultra connected world where we get to experience the ‘local’. Usually, and ideally, there is no phone reception - so no access to the outside world. You are there with the people you see - you can have conversations (!), endlessly it would seem, to others you know or do not know.
A reminder everyone is connected via a few degrees of separation.
We are told there are no ‘musical tribes’ anymore and maybe music genres are more fluid than in previous decades, but there are definitely different types of character that coalesce around these different events and that bond makes this experience of the local all the more stronger - inclusive exclusivity? You can’t help but become part of the tribe, by simply leaning into that side of your character - be it the hippie, the clubber, the Optimo’s Child, the Gilles’ disciple etc.
1. Watching Trees - The Optimo’s Child
Aka a home from home. Watching Trees is like a mini-Glasgow in the Wiltshire countryside. A place where all the Optimo’s children go on their wee summer hols for a bit of better weather and a blether. I’ve played the last two years and both experiences have been a joy from start to finish. I turned up and as I set my foot onto the site I immediately started to meet people I know and most of the time had not seen for a while. Queue endless catch up chats, which continued for the duration of the full 24-hours I was there, save for the three hours where I played music and perhaps 5 hours of sleep.
A wonderful thing was to meet people of all age brackets who still like to get stuck in for the weekend. The rave spirit never leaves you. No agenda and small enough (around 500 people) that within a few hours you’ve visited every stage and said ‘hi’ to everyone. This only allowed your second round to be more rewarding: not just a ‘hi, how you doing’ but a long form conversation about whatever took your fancy. What a privilege.
Standing next to Dave Clark aka Sparky in awe of Julienne’s Fantastic Twins set, which she had previously been telling me how nervous she was about it; catching up with Maggie Dickson about her travels around East Asia; seeing Matt and Brian (ex Clash Mag) to witness the Keith laser projection over Prosumer; sitting outside after the music stopped with Jonnie and Keith’s wife Marissa to watch a performance of Cretan theatre. These were experiences not on the programme but are what stays in the memory.
2. Wildwood - The Eternal Clubber
This was a new festival to me but one that had caught my attention in previous years. I was delighted to be asked to play and despite arriving after a 6-hour drive and lack of sleep I was soon brought fully into the present - meeting up with old mates Tosh and Bex Ohta, who I’d not seen for years, some relatives that have their own rave campervan whilst in their 50’s and catching up with my old amiga Paula Tape and partner Ruggerio. My set ended with Green City, a track that a lot of the crowd recognised, was a nice moment for me.
I was on early which meant more time to cut about, hanging with Jonnie Optimo back stage for a bit was nice and all but the real fun was experiencing my first Try Outs with a genius set by resident Logan Fisher. I think there are about 5000 people at Wildwood, but in the cosy confines of the Try Outs stage, the 100 or so of us got locked in for an epic night that reminded me of the simple perfect formula that pervades for all eternity: house music, a good DJ, a decent soundsystem and a dancefloor of equals.
The best thing about it: I felt young - In my 40’s, I must have been around the average age of the people on the dancefloor and this is a key observation I’ve witnessed all year - there are so many festivals that cater to us veterans, the eternal ravers where the rave spirit never dies. Older, wiser and more able to let go (if only for a few weekends of the year).
3. Kelburn - The Inner Hippie
I’ve been going to Kelburn for over 15 years, before it became a ‘proper’ festival. It feels like home. Having played the previous year, I was delighted to be invited back this year for a ‘secret set’ in the woods on the Sunday. Due to other commitments I was only able to arrive that day, so entered an arena where everyone had been going for 2-3 days, and as I found out their festival experience had been accompanied almost entirely by torrential rain.
Rain enforces you to make a simple binary decision: go hard or go home. And so by Sunday, everyone there would have had many opportunities to stand by their original decision. Cue the most up for it, locked in crowd I’ve played to all year. This was heightened by the fact everyone had to climb a mountain to make it to my stage, in the dripping rain and through endless rivers of mud.
Drenched, covered in mud but totally free.
4. We Out Here - Disciples of Gilles
(This plan went out the window)
I was a little trepidatious on my return to We Out Here last weekend. I’d played the first year and spoke at the second but had not returned since. Why nervous? A few reasons that I won’t go into here but I needn’t have worried as it was another unbelievable experience.
Afterwards, instead of checking off the bands I’ve seen, I decided to write down the names of every meaningful conversation I had with people there (the inner geek never dies). My list got over 60 names and I was only there for one night. I found that in my old age I’ve started to forget folk I’ve met (often on a dance floor or passing in a festival), which is annoying for me and worse for them. Apologies to everyone that this applies to.
So as a means of avoiding early onset dementia - writing down the names of everyone I meet in a very short space of time might be a good practise. It also serves to prove the real value of these festival experiences - human and social connection, forming bonds with others, connecting and reconnecting with real humans in the flesh.
This point was helped massively due to the lack of phone reception throughout the whole site (and common at most of the festivals I’ve mentioned) - you are in a social bubble and the only option is to embrace it and thrive. Bye bye outside world, hello tiny ecosystem of the best sorts of people, reminding us of what it really is to be human.
Did the music help? Of course it did, do I care to name the acts that I saw? Not really, everything was good but the chat was even better.