For the past three years Bestival has been my way of saying farewell to the summer, one final party before the autumn leaves kick-in.
It was a Thursday and I had arrived into Bristol airport only a few hours earlier, having spent the previous seven months living in Barcelona. I gave myself little over an hour to get home unpack, repack, and get on a train to Portsmouth. I generally fail at most challenges in life, so it was surprising when I pulled that mini-mission off.
I boarded a ferry packed with festival-goers and set sail for Ryde.
From Ryde I followed a similar formula, the only difference being the ferry had been replaced with a bus and the destination was now Robin Hill Adventure Park.
Arriving in the darkness with a bottle of wine in my belly, I was grateful to the architects behind the Quechua tent and watched on with a wicked smile as my friend struggled to erect his home for the next few days. Then I did the typical ‘night before a festival starts’ routine, wandered around for a while, sampling over-priced food, checking out hot girls and laughing at the amateurs going too hard, too early. I then bumped into some old friends, retiring to their tent for a catch-up and some nitrous-fueled giggle-fun.
I awoke on Friday to the sun beating down on my tent. Time to get up and sample this festival foray.
METRONOMY – Red Bull Stage
I had eagerly been anticipating a late night 3am knees up with these boys in the Big Top. Imagine my surprise to hear them playing on a smaller nearby stage whilst I was monging out, face down on the grass. Thinking they were probably doing one of those ’secret’ shows, as well as a main set later that night I didn’t think much of it. When I found out later that the set I had heard was replacing the late night one, I did think much of it.
PASSION PIT – Main Stage
In the weeks running upto Bestival, Passion Pit were probably the band on the bill that I was listening to the most. Partly because they are from the same state as my mother (Massachusetts), and partly because a hot American chick had told me about them, I felt I owed them a good listen. On Spotify they sounded okay, if not a bit shit, but good enough to listen to a few of their tracks more than once. Listening to them live is a different proposition. I don’t care about how much I complain about the main stage’s sound system for the rest of this festival review, Passion Pit sounded terrible. I’d even go as far as to say that if the sound system had been working perfectly they would have sounded worse. The lead singer’s voice is could be the CIA’s most powerful tool for torturing the world’s terror elite, if only they gave it a go. Passion Pit sound like one of those bands straight off of the OC Tree Hill Soundtrack CDs. The lead singers dance moves were an embarrassment for everyone and the only thing that would have saved him would have been if he had pulled his beanie all the way over his face and walked off the stage. Shockingly gash.
CASPA – Bollywood Bar
Dubstep set at 4pm in the afternoon without any alcohol or without any drugs? Sign me up. The Bollywood Tent was one of a few tents that I could only really enter when they were under-populated during the daytime. Such was the heat at night, Dante could have probably been found raving in one of the sweat-drenched corners. Caspa smashed out banger after banger and the only negative part was some ageing mc talking over a number of the tracks. I stomped like no sober man that time before had ever seen, my chums and I were possessed for far too long, we almost became actual stomping demons.
FRIENDLY FIRES – Main Stage
The poor quality of the sound system on the main stage didn’t help in the slightest, but that didn’t stop this from being the poor sappy poppy performance I had feared it would. Paris and Jump In the Pool are two tracks off the album that I, like most people, feel are pretty decent tracks, but seeing them sung live the band came across as made for the studio and not for the stage. The lead-singer was un-engaging and the whole bands performance was flat. Not a highlight.
MGMT – Main Stage
A massively flaccid performance up until the final song, Kids. No surprises there.
MASSIVE ATTACK – Main Stage
Growing up in Bath, where we generally have no musical heritage, we always lay claim to whoever Bristol has created as ours aswell and Massive Attack are no different.
Standing right up front, I was able to absorb every second of this performance. I’m not going to try and name all the names of the people on stage, because I don’t know their names (later on my dad would ask me ‘Was Tricky there?’ and I would feel like a bit of a cretin for not knowing something that my 57 year old father did about popular music), all I was concerned with was a good performance.
A lot of people complained that it was too slow and a far too mellow way to end the nights live acts, to those people I say, ‘What did you expect?’ Massive Attack make trip hop tunes. I thought they were great.
FAKE BLOOD – Bollywood Bar
If we felt mellow and chilled after Massive Attack, Fake Blood definitely changed things. Such was the relaxed atmosphere of Massive Attack I couldn’t really figure out if I had any energy left in my body, Fake Blood certainly let me know that I had. Big dirty set from one of the UK’s most promising DJs.
LE FANFARE EN PETARD – Come Dancing Tent
For me, the surprise package of Bestival was definitely this little French brass band. Dressed in Red Berets and sunglasses, we knew these boys meant business before their lips had even hit the pipes. I thought we were just in for a spot of brass, but then out popped this little dude with more facial expressions than an episode of Jeremy Kyle and a lyrical delivery ten times more consistent than the Royal Mail has ever been. The fact that we didn’t have a clue what this guy was actually saying didn’t seem to matter, it sounded wicked. French rap always has.
Saturday’s events kicked off at the main stage.
LITTLE BOOTS – Main Stage
Another act ruined by the terrible sound quality on the main stage, I was probably somewhere in the middle of the crowd and actually thought on numerous occasions that an even acoustic session with Passion Pit would be more favourable, okay I didn’t really, but you get the point about the sound system.
The whole band came on stage in Thunderbirds attire and looked to be having a good time, but the sound quality really ruined everything. Not even the set closer and my personal favourite Stuck On Repeat could defeat the dirty sound system.
MAJOR LAZER – Big Top
Now, I am a big fan of Diplo and Mad Decent in general, so usually when he praises something that’s the only invitation I need to think it’s great as well. However I’d listened to a bit of Major Lazer previously and thought the formula had finally been broken. How wrong I was. This was one of the most energetic performances I’ve seen for a long time and even though I was positioned a ways back, I was shakin’ my shit so bad I must have pulled a couple of muscles, I’d even go as far as to say I gave a couple other people muscle strains, it was contagious. But who wouldn’t want to dance with those crazy people on stage. It was fantastic. Hold the Line vibrated across the crowd like some kind of magical reggaeton/Beach Boys mash-up and typified their hour on the platform.
KRAFTWERK – Main Stage
Kraftwerk. Wow. Thankyou.
So keen to have a good night we were not going to be defeated by the terrible sound system, so we went straight to the front of the stage. Yes, we were those annoying people who push past you in the crowd, sorry.
They started off and I was like ‘what is the fuss about?’, towards the end of the set I was like ‘this is what the fuss is about’. After their first encore, they didn’t return to the stage, in their place where robots performing We Are the Robots, fitting. Then for the second encore they came out in outfits that even Tron would have been jealous of. They glowed on stage like electronic knights of the square tables. As each member exited the stage one after each other, from left to right, we were left with the final member, the one who had been calling the shots all night and obviously the mastermind behind the whole operation. When he too finally then exited, my friends and I all just looked at each other, so amazed, we couldn’t speak for about twenty minutes. Digital Magic.
Fleet Foxes
FLEET FOXES – Main Stage
They were the only band I wanted to see on the Sunday bill, but none of my friends were that bothered, so I ended up watching them alone. Although it sounds a bit depressing, it actually couldn’t have been nicer.
The sun was setting as they plucked away at their instruments and my mind was briefly transported to Old English times, until my foot was trodden on by a spaceman. Their harmonies were soft and beautiful throughout, but never more so then during Sun It Rises. For the whole set I was enchanted, and now fixed, I couldn’t even complain about bad sound quality. As White Winter Hymnal started up it was like the crowd was some sleeping giant being awoken by the sound of its own melodic murmuring, growing increasingly louder. They ended with Mykonos and with the chilly wind as my only friend, it seemed quite unfair that I wasn’t on some Greek island myself. I was on the Isle of Wight.
Like two years earlier, I managed to miss Bat For Lashes again. I also missed a couple of DJs that I had wanted to see.
If you’d asked me two years ago, is Bestival the best festival? I would have said yes, without hesitation. But now I hesitate. Bestival charges you money for a programme, not just a couple quid, but eight of them. Bestival don’t allow you to bring your own alcohol into the main arena areas anymore, there are bag searches between the campsites and the arenas, which means you have to spend four pounds on a can of cider if you want a drink. Not even good cider at that, but Gaymers. I paid one hundred and fifty pounds for my ticket, the sound system was shocking, and if you can’t print off a cheap timetable and let me drink beer without me being screened by the Gestapo, I think that is plain greedy.
Although I still had a good time, I am beginning to realise why he calls himself Rob Da Bank. Little bitch.
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