Photos (c) Paul Lippiatt
Everything looks even more splendid today which is no mean feat considering our ethanolic cataracts. We decide not to break the habit of a lifetime and get a bev.
With last year’s Sunday extravaganza providing copious amounts of jollies, 2014 had big shoes to fill. Although Saturday acted as the main event, Sunday was the hot topic this year. The hushed mention of Neneh Cherry was on the lips of many denizens and most were shouting out loud about the prospect of SBTRKT gracing the stage.
The sun was shining, spirits were high and we were collecting the pieces from the day previous. Here is the second installment of our festival diary. Even though you may be compelled to do so, try not to liken it to the diary of Samuel Pepys as this was written well after the 1600’s…
Michael and I awoke a little later than planned. A strong brew and a stern talking to was in order as we try and figure out where Katy has disappeared to. Bleary eyed and sans beans we construct a battle plan. Greg Wilson. John Talabot. Jamie XX. Special Request. Sorted. Katy finally gets in touch and we have a spot of breakfast cider before we mooch like we’ve never mooched before to the venue once again.
As we arrive the sun is beaming. Everything looks even more splendid today which is no mean feat considering our ethanolic cataracts. We decide not to break the habit of a lifetime and get a bev.
We arrive at the Digital Soundboy stage just in time for a bit of Breakage themed skankage. It’s not long before we suffer a touch of motion sickness and decide to find something a tad more demure in the form of Quantic. We’re treated to a few silky, Brazilian-esque cuts from his latest album. We a feel a little more human /cultured and head back to the hairy forest that treated us so well not twenty four hours before.
After wandering around aimfully for a few lovely hours we get back to the original plan and get involved in a touch of Talabot. We groove dutifully to his quite frankly cracking house stylings and discuss the mutual level of enjoyment we’re all experiencing.
We feel guilty for neglecting the main stage all weekend and amble over for a spot of Jamie XX. After cutting a big old rug to his remix of Four Tet’s ‘Lion’ we hop on the good foot and do one. Although it has a long way to go to beat it’s older brother, Sunday is shaping up to be an absolute corker.
We spend longer than we would have like trying to find the Soul Train tent. We blame everyone but the booze and finally arrive to witness the next essential on our list. An old man with a DAT tape player is blessing the crowd with an utterly stunning ensemble of disco and 80’s funk. For the fifth time that weekend we hear Loletta Holloway’s ‘Love Sensation’ and scream every word at the duffer in question. After a few patronising conversations about the fact he’s “still got it” and that it’s surprising he still has a “full head of hair’”, we all decide that Greg Wilson is the highlight of the festival so far.
We start obsessing about hosting a house party so make our way to the exit, only to be pulled back in by the bad meaning good sounds of Special Request. We have a proper old boogie before the pull of home becomes too strong.
We arrive at the nest at quarter past eleven and I personally spend the next ten hours straight playing our opinions of the weekend in musical form. People invite themselves and make their excuses to leave throughout the morning. Everyone shares in the bizarre combination of elation and melancholy.
No one wants the weekend to end, but sooner or later Monday has to win and we make our way to bed. But not before Michael shows me a Powerpoint presentation of how much he enjoys cat gifs and self deprecation.
If you can think of a better end to a better weekend, I’m all ears.
Check out a bit of Jamie xx right here: