Crack

It’s the last festival of the summer and purportedly the bestest one, so it’s pretty much a must these days to get oneself to Bestival on the Isle of Wight at the beginning of each September.

Everything about Bestival is that little bit more manageable in comparison to other festivals. The facilities are fine, you can saunter from one side of the site to the other in half an hour and the dickhead count is always at a level where you don’t feel the need to avoid eye contact.

It’s also the most immaculately dressed, well presented collection of human beings this side of Shoreditch High Street. Everyone at Bestival has their own unique twists on fashion. Crossing from standard hipster dress, to fancy dress, to attire that can only be described as bizarre, it’s a great collection of people who regularly attend Bestival. It is the closest thing you’ll get to a cool house party in a field.

Rob Da Bank’s little brainchild has, in the last few years, become one of the big names on the festival circuit. It’s easy to see why. The attention to detail with décor and all the little touches really gives standing in a muddy field a bit more ‘je nes sais quois’. But most importantly, especially this year, the line up is spot on.

First up in true Bestival style, Crack heads to The Bollywood Tent to see Johnno Burgess roll back the clock and play an hour and a half of 80’s Yacht Rock incorporating Steely Dan, John Farnham (tune of the weekend - who’da thought it) and Phil Collins. Crack spends half of this time watching a dance troupe that have either created an impromptu Pineapple Studios style arrangement, or have just ‘got the groove’. In response Crack’s hombre Dom co-ordinated a huge human chain to The Chain by Fleetwood Mac, before a final epic dance. What a start!

An early afternoon treat on the Friday from Gil Scott-Heron is great, and a lovely antidote to the 80’s cheese. Despite the fact the sound guys are obviously still finding their way at this point, the performance is really compelling. Gil brings out a good selection of his classics like Home Is Where The Hatred Is and also a few off his recent come back album. A great opportunity to see a performer, undoubtedly deserving of the legend status.

Later that same evening, pretty much everyone in the whole festival seems to be clambering his or her way into the Big Top. By the time Crack rocks up it’s a one- in-one-out vibe, but that soon goes out the window when we get caught up in a stampede of startled music fans and carried in past the outgunned staff. Everyone is waiting to see the “band of the moment” The XX, off the back of their Mercury Music Prize winning album (that’s actually been out for an age but no one, including Radio 1, seemed to notice at the start). The set is as good as can be expected from a band still playing the same songs they came out with two years ago. They are obviously well practiced by now, but why the crazed fans all of a sudden? Surely XX mania should be over by now? The sound in The Big Top is also weak and really quiet. Very frustrating. Too much hype will kill them, so we hope Radio 1 get the message and leave them alone now.

If Crack wasn’t already thoroughly disappointed with people in general by this point, the salt in the wound came when everyone quickly cleared out afterwards, as Flying Lotus took to the stage. Thankfully a fair few stuck around for a storming set from the LA beat scene’s head honcho, but a disappointingly small crowd in comparison to the previous.
Over the course of the next four hours Crack does the techno thing to Plastikman, whose LED draped construct visuals that surround Richie Hawtin are a visual wonder. Magda and Seth Troxler provide some much needed techno wiggle and finally, Dave Clarke finishes off proceedings in the Big Top in typically brutal style.

Time is also made for the court jester of LA’s little posse as Gaslamp Killer is on at the Arcadia stage, which is one of the most interesting constructions Crack has ever seen. Looking a bit like that ridiculous robotic spider thing out of the cinematic masterpiece Wild Wild West with Will Smith, the DJ booth is suspended on top of the spider’s head, with a big bandstand beneath. Gaslamp clearly wants to be down on the stage, but pulls off as much showmanship as he can from 20ft up. “You know it’d be a whole different thing if I was down there”, he shouts hanging his huge barnett out over the edge. Despite GLK’s distain for the set up, it has to be said the sound at the Arcadia is spot on and the pyrotechnics and quirky acrobatics that follow, though a touch on the cringe-worthy side, are quite a spectacle.

Saturday’s line-up, though not quite as hot as Friday’s, sees Crack takes in Roxy Music, who roll back the clock, and The Flaming Lips, who finally may have started to tip the balance in Crack’s head, that their music might be as noteworthy as their absolutely spellbinding stage show.

The Chai Wallah stage didn’t manage to deliver quite as successfully. Saturday saw a midnight set from Darkstar turn out to not actually be ‘the’ Darkstar (see tech-glitch-beat-hop thing) but ‘the other’ Darkstar, a fact that slowly dawned on the thinning crowd over the course of the hour. It was time to digress for a bit of traditional rave business from Crack’s old favourites Erol Alkan and High Contrast. We weren’t disappointed. Notably Mr Contrast’s solid two hours of soulful, yet heavy drum and bass results in most of our entourage topless and doing a great impression of mating slugs due to an increase in sweat production.

Highlight of the day is surely the fancy dress. Crack’s editor subverts the fantasy theme by strapping two blow-up dolls to himself and going as a threesome. Watching him trying to buy a cuppa and some cake in the Women’s’ Institute Tea Tent wearing nothing but boxers and blow up dolls is quite the head turner. Top marks also go to the bloke walking round with nothing on apart from a sock. The Ryu and Ken couple and Crack’s homie Greg, who in an effort to look like Stone Cold Steve Austin, ended up looking more like the new rent-boy member of The Village People.

Sunday arrives and at midday Portico Quartet were nowhere to be seen for their slot. Assuming we’d missed it, Crack stumbled off, only to find out later they were two hours late. Damn shame.

A lazy day sauntering around the outer-reaches of the Bestival site. Crack enjoys a hearty meal on the Bandstand Hill and soaks its tired limbs in the sun before completing the Bestival maze and taking a walk through the woods, only to be confronted by Snap (yes the early 90’s dance act) on the Aracdia Stage rolling out Rhythm Is A Dancer. If you can’t start your day with a slice of that shit you need to get out of this festival. Hilarious.

Crack rolls back the years watching 70’s/80’s disco stalwarts Chic and is left astounded by the number of hits Chic have penned for the likes of Diana Ross and David Bowie. I Want Your Love, Good Times and Le Freak are all rolled out for the best mass dance of the weekend. Similarly, after a series of cancelled performances at festivals this year, it’s an absolute pleasure to see Fat Freddy’s Drop in the UK bringing their smokey, soulful sound the Big Top.

Fever Ray’s only UK festival performance this year was the icing on the proverbial cake to the weekend. With trademark quirkiness, she managed to put on a haunting show without venturing anywhere near the front of the stage, or taking off her mask and veil. Truly mesmerising in The Big Top (now they finally sorted out the sound) lamps glow and jaws drop. This is unquestionably gig of the weekend.

LCD Soundsystem finishes things off in typically brilliant fashion with a blast of their hits and Crack’s entourage end the evening covered in silly string dancing to polka…somewhere.

A great weekend, not spoiled by the weather at what is now perhaps the safest bet of a good time you are ever likely to have at a festival.



Words: Jack Dolan

Photo: Alan Thomas

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