This is partly to help me to remember myself:
The Green Man festival eh? There's a misnomer and no mistake. For all the bragging about the festival being endorsed by the spirit of spring and rebirth and all that is good and green in the land, it was bloody muddy. One sunny Friday, one horrendous rainy Saturday and a half and half Sunday led to a thick carpet of oozing, viscous mud. Good job I brought wellies and waterproofs then, eh?
So for the second time running the weekend had appalling weather. Was it still worth going? I'd have to say yes, purely because of the quality of the lineup and the general good atmosphere despite the rain and mud. So, here's my word on the bands I saw with my eyes and heard with my ears.
Kicking off on a cloudy but dry early Friday afternoon I pitched my tent next to a big leafy tree and as far away from the soon-to-be-muddy paths as I could. I hoofed up to the Folkey Dokey tent and on my way caught a little Sara Lowes at the Green Man cafe. She wasn't bad, lovely rich voice and a rolling funky rhythm to her soul-tinged songs. After twenty minutes of that I wandered along to the Folkey Dokey tent to see One Little Plane. A very pleasant performance with a tinge of electronica and some excellent brush drumming, not terribly memorable though. Then a quick race off to the main stage to see Alela Diane. Beautiful country folk, her voice made me melt. Her dad was on stage as well, looking like a strange cross between Ben Stiller in Dodgeball, Des Lynham and Lee Hazlewood - but somehow handsome. He knew his guitar work anyway. You couldn't go wrong with finding her music on myspace...
http://www.myspace.com/alelamusicGood stuff so far then, but to be honest I was folked out. I needed some raw shouting and jumping around like an idiot. O'Death happily obliged in the Folkey Dokey tent. A completely mental appalachian band with banjos, drum, fiddle and electric guitar they smashed and crashed their way through blitzkrieg songs. The fiddle played looked like Christopher Lloyd, the drummer seemed to be naked behind his drumkit. They were awesome.
Sue and Alice would just like to say that they went to Knit Flicks instead of this, and it was an extrememly diverting film series, if at times with a very tenuous connection to knitting.
Back to the main stage for Drive by Truckers and more beer. Drive by Truckers were technically good but I couldn't warm to them for some reason. This didn't matter so much though, because as I comically rolled down the (thankfully dry at this point) embankment when pratfalling with some friends, I heard a voice say, "Go get him, son," and I immediately was set upon by a kid with a lightsabre. I immediately started crying out, "It burns! It burns so!" and shying away and cringing comically retreated back up the embankment under plastic-neon-truncheon blows. With a finishing move of a slash to the back of the neck, I obliging fell face down and didn't move to complete the kid's happy moment of mayhem. My mates kept nudging me with their toes, whispering, "get up!" But I didn't listen. I heard some woman's voice laughing and saying, "sorry about that," but I was too in the moment of play acting being dead. When I finally looked up I saw that it was Norman Cook and Zoe Ball and their kid Woody. So I got whaled on by a celebrity kid. Cool eh? No, not when you've had to listen to friends say the story eight times so far. Woody, I wish you dead. ("He's joking of course," - ed.)
Spacey blues country rock with a bit of The Band about them. King Creosote next, who was predictably great, wearing a Beatles wig. He played all the hits, including my faves 'No Clue Do You' and 'It's Not Good Enough'. He was pretty funny as well. Always good value, that Mr Creosote.
Shame I couldn't say the same about Spiritualized. I don't know, I love Ladies & Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space but this time Jason just seemed to aimlessly noodle along with these relentlessly uninteresting sonic soundscapes. There was a brief highlight as he did 'Good Dope' with these two very welcome backing soul singers, but then he immediately followed it up with a twelve minute wig out that was monumentally tedious. And he did the entire set stood still with his back to us. Agh.
A brief stint around the campfire with banjos and banter, more drink and then off to bed, a fun Friday.
Saturday morning, ominous cloud makes me unhappy. But! I have Tunnocks Bars, the delish caramel wafer biscuits of champions. This makes me happy. An orange and sausage roll later and I'm ready to see the world. However, this taste treat would later prove to be my tangental undoing. Express strong desire to see Pamela Wyn Shannon, but she's been moved to some other slot. Bah. So off to Folkey Dokey to see Brigyn instead. They're pretty nice. Manic grinning faces. They do Cohen's Hallelujah in Welsh. Boppy folktronica otherwise, I recommend.
http://www.myspace.com/brigynThe main reason I kick off in Folkey Dokey tent is the upcoming Cate LeBon, however. Who was jolly good, but again not excellent as everyone seems to be claiming her to be. Still her tunes are strong and her voice crisp and with this strange solemnity. I also liked her bobbed hair. And Sweet Baboo himself was playing guitar rather splendidly with her.
Next up after damn fine Pie Minister Pie is the North Sea Radio Orchestra. Consisting of oboe, guitar, violin, cello, organ, drums and two solo singers. They are splendid. A cross between Benjamin Britten, light opera and traditional folk - but always upbeat and serene. They live up to their name, somehow.
http://www.myspace.com/northsearadioorchestraEmmy the Great next, and she is great, genuinely. A Mimi-lookalike huggable in a hoody, Emmy has these superb acousitc songs that are quite poppy and channel Belly somewhat. She's the sort who does folk covers of 'Where Is My Mind' and it not sucking.
http://www.myspace.com/emmythegreatDevon Sproule, I can't remember you, but I'm sure you were good. Rumpus Room bopping to Gary's Twisted set was also most fine with some dangerous fab dancing from me. Now comes the shame. Having enjoyed the taste sensation so much for breakfast, I decide to head back to the tent for more sausage rolls, Tunnocks Bars and clementines. However, a couple each of these does not a meal make. Plus, it's chucking it down by now and me and Jim Bob want to blather in the tent over some alcohol and get out of the maddening rain. I drink, I drink a bit too much. Red wine in a box you see, and hard to gauge how much you're putting away. After an hour or two of chinwaggery, I flit back into my tent, decide to have a little nap before Richard Thompson and fall fast asleep. Not only do I miss Richard Thompson but also the Super Furries. Gagh. I later wake up, drunk, snarl as I leave my tent comically, lightly but firmly push Alice in the face who makes fun of me and run off to the toilets. Due to drunken skill I make it without fuss and back again. Then back to sleep. Shame, Peter, shame.
Wake up Sunday morning around nine feeling completely fine. Ha! And what a glorious blue sky that morning too. Finally one could see Sugarloaf hill, and the rolling pine woods up the valley sides of the Usk. On with the wellies, and I head off with Steph, who's set to play violin with the Gentle Good in an hour and a half. She's in a decent Cardiff band called 'The School', who are very twee, but not bad at all. I have a bagel with salmon, it costs four pounds fifty but the salmon is an actual salmon steak in cream cheese, so I'm reasonably impressed. With time to kill I head off to the little Solar Power milk-float stage, which has open mics, stand-up, little bands and fun. It's in a walled garden full of stalls, old Romany gypsy caravans ("Scum," - Daily Express) and neat activities for kids. There's a lass called Bell with or without an e on the stage, and she's really good. She only does a few songs though. Later on there's an Irish comedian who does a musical bingo that results in no one getting anything due to someone absent mindedly retagging his ipod songs. Somehow it was very funny and very Father Ted.
So, Gentle Good. Splendid, and Steph was very good. Marred only slightly by a rare drunken idiot who shouts some obscenities. Strangely enough I only saw two drunken idiots and both were Welsh. Hmm. (Though there's three if you count Rhys Ifans, and he was, by all accounts, a drunken idiot.) You can hear The Gentle Good and their lovely welsh folk songs here...
http://www.myspace.com/gentlegood Next up Radio Luxombourg on the main stage. Rockin' fun with amazing shirts. They were sort of Gorky's style, but funkier. Very much recommended and they seemed very affable chaps.
Mumford and Sons next in the Folkey Dokey tent, and they were the highlight of the festival. One double bassist, one banjo playing handsome young jack (whom everyone was swooning over) a no-nonsense intense passionate lead singer/guitarist and a unpretentious keyboard player. They belt out songs that are new but sound as if they've been around forever. Timeless songs that just keep on rising and rolling with a glorious wall of sound inevitability that stretches a drum tight grin across your face. Songs that make you stare as hard and fast and as intently as the singer. These guys are preaching music, and they're amazing. Laura Marling joins halfway through, but for some reason is almost completely silent, possibly due to mic problems. This doesn't detract though. Their myspace page addy is long and incomprehensible, so google them.
Beth Jeans Houghton in the Green Man cafe is pleasant but a bit forgettable. She's funny and has an ace tyneside accent however. And gives out free chocolatte bars, which is a plus.
Now comes a big decision. Do I go and see Rhys Ifans' new band The Peth, or do I stick around for the promising sounding Sefa, who with her backing band is a 'macabre circus', allegedly. I plump for Sefa. She walks on alone, her band didn't turn up. Sefa looks just like Rebecca Front, with a big helmet of sandy hair like the Day Today presenters of old Front used to portray. She plays harp and keyboard and has very funny songs about five-a-day-portions and how nutritionists can fuck off. Other songs are about people dying in amusing ways. In lieu of a band she calls up her friend who plays clarinet. Lovely music follows. They keep changing positions, getting cables wrapped around eachother's necks and dropping music sheets all over the place. They are giggly and not-giving-a-fuck. I'm in love.
http://www.myspace.com/drumstreetsefaMeanwhile...
The Peth suck. Really bad. Twisted Gary says later, "You can tell it's going bad when the two superfurries there shake their heads in an embarrassed fashion and sneak off. People were leaving between every song." Alice and Sue attest to an embarrassing Love Actually style performance with Rhys being all 'rock 'n' roll!' at a midday folk festival tent performance, dancing in shades with a very young lady like a creepy old man. I almost wish I saw it, it sounds so bad. He was also drunk and crap, natch.
Los Campesinos! What happened to you? Kieron Gillen's current fave band have gone off in a troublingly shambolic and raucous direction. Once tight but twee but catchy, the lead singer just shouts every lyric like a drunken Mark E Smith, but without the structure to back it up. The music playing is shambolic and flailing and they play every single song at the same pitch and extra-loud 'teh awesome!' volume. A big disappointment, as pre-album release they had mighty EP's and live shows. Now they seem to have gone rather mediocre. Still, some of the songcraft showed through and they were by no means a disaster, just disappointing.
Laura Marling followed. She's good, callow but good. A great voice married to fine tunes and lyrics. She's a bit too disarming perhaps, and they music press 'next Joni Mitchell' hype is wearing, but it's not her fault. She's only 17 and can't help the leaden words of White Music Man Magazine.
I now had to make a big decision. The National - a known favourite, a band I love, and sure to be a great atmosphere at the main stage, or Wildbird and Peacedrums in the Green Man Cafe - a Swedish White Stripes style duo? Wildbird wins out due to the lead looking a lot like Zooey Deschanel. I'm not disappointed. After an odd start involving cowbells, sparse drumming and howling, Wildbird beings a beautiful soulful croon. The songs are drum heavy and largely belting, she dances like a maniac, belting the drums Mr Peacedrums doesn't hit. She rolls her eyes and screams and purrs and grins and snarls and has the most amazing voice. She steals my heart and runs off with it into the deep dark woods. Afterwards, dazed, I wander off to catch the last three songs of The National. They're amazing too, so beautiful, so epic, so sing-along. I don't regret sacrificing them for Wildbird, but I can't help but wish I had caught them too, somehow.
Wildbird & Peacedrums -
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fu ... D=72202256From then on nothing really quite lives up, to be honest. Iron & Wine are solid, but what I love on their albums doesn't really translate to a live experience. They leave me a little cold. Still, Iron & Wine are great, but no, I can't love them live. We wander off to see Caribou, who seem very good with heavy drumming and a firm beat but again I can't warm to them. We're just not in a party mood I guess, with all the mud and rain. Everyone else seems to be enjoying them though, so hurrah for them. Anyway we decide to head up to the film tent to catch Haxan, a fantastic 1920's Swedish film about witches and the inquisition. It's beautiful and scary and very sobering, a savage denunciation of the witchcraft trials and an appeal not to forget or neglect the mentally ill who were once judged possessed. Unfortunately there are a couple of people who snicker their way through after every dialogue card, who seem to find it 'quaint' and silly due to the old style silent acting. They're wrong, it's chilling and amazing - fast paced, with brilliant effects. The witches flying over the villages and the woman giving birth to devil spawn and incredibly well done. Fortunately the synth-drone Flaming Lipsesque awesomeness that accompanies it saves the day from the sniggering fools.
It's this olde movie that rounds off the festival. Despite the bad weather, an excellent time was had. Pretty much everyone was lovely (except the drunken idiot asking everyone for high-fives for several hours in front of the main stage) and there was lots to do. Food was good, they had Addlestones cider and the prices though high weren't as bad as other fests. Also, the toilets were of a brilliant standard. I only had to back away from two overladen horrors in three days, which is something of a miracle. And Pieminister had some unexpected competition via Purepie, who were strong pretenders to the pie-crown. Only beef was that Sunday night sort of petered out, they really needed to stack the main stage acts so that they kept the momentum of The National, instead they finished on Pentangle which are more of a late afternoon band. Stupid mistake really. The temptation to put Pentangle as a headliner is strong, but they don't belong there as genius as they are. Festivals should not end on accoustic acts.
Verdict: Largely glorious with slight frustrations.
Pictures to follow when I've uploaded. Thanks for making it this far!
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