Matthew's Journal

Late last night, we got back from the 2008 Trowbridge Festival, where we'd been since Thursday afternoon. The forecast rain never materialised (although there were a couple of light showers overnight, which left our car absolutely filthy), and indeed Saturday was scorchingly hot!

We arrived on Thursday mostly so we could see Oysterband, who were playing a daftly late set (11.15-12.45). It was a good enough set to get the crowd going, though, and I might even have twitched a little in time to the music myself! The only other group to write home about, for me, were Show of Hands, whose set was too short, but blew me away. I must have sung along to all of it, aside from the new material (a Peter Gabriel cover, and The Keys of Canterbury; the lyrics of the latter are a bit different, but you get the idea). The latter was almost worth the ticket price in and of itself!

One of the things that made Trowbridge better for me was the presence of friends - arnhem and L, rmc28 and fcdf, and some of the Coleman clan, who tolerated our invading their pitch. We spent the mornings sitting round talking rubbish and playing cards, which was lovely.

There were some downsides, however. I think the organisers were expecting fewer of us on Thursday than turned up then, which meant that the toilets were really really grim by Friday morning (they never got that bad for the rest of the festival, though I remain glad we brought our own bog-roll supply). Also, someone stole my beer when I was dancing at the ceilidh with "Spill the Whisky", and indeed I was generally rather disappointed with the quality of the dancing at the various ceilidhs - whilst some people could clearly dance and/or follow the caller there was a small but highly disruptive lot of people (mostly drunk, at least some of whom underage) who seemed to delight in doing anything but the right thing. I think I'd expected people to do a bit better, but maybe last year's Big Session was just lucky. Also, tent-sleeping remains a skill that eludes me - I did better than I've previous managed under canvas, but even then I was waking many times a night, and couldn't sleep beyond about 8am due to the tent becoming a furnace.

We came home early, partly because the people we really wanted to hear on Sunday weren't on until the very end of the evening (and we'd have had to have left before then, given work tomorrow), and partly so we could get a good night's sleep and back on top of the Stuff mountain. Also, by yesterday lunchtime, I was feeling Festivalled-out - it felt like I'd heard a weekend's worth of acts, and I was certainly missing a decent bed and a decent shower. I was desparately behind on sleep, too, which was beginning to take its toll. I think we might try and find somewhere nearby to stay for any future folk festival escapades - being able to get clean and well-rested would have made a big difference. I think arnhem may have some local knowledge, and there is always google...

Today we've slept in, and I've been very domestic - laundry done, the bedding changed, unpacking, shopping, washing-up, etc. This evening I'm going to try some experimental food - sake-marinated sole with steamed pak choi (done in a foil package) from the Yo Sushi! cookery book someone bought atreic, and some chinese-ish Shiitake mushrooms (probably stir-fried with ginger, garlic, soy sauce).

As rmc28 put it: OH GOD THE MUD!

As atreic and I erected our tent in a field in Leicester on Friday, the heavens opened. By the time we'd got the tent up, we were both soaked to the skin. We took off the wet clothes, dried outselves off, and sat in the tent feeling a bit downcast. It was clearly a "fuck this for a laugh, time for beer" moment, so we cracked open the emergency beer supply. Eventually the downpour abated, and we grabbed some food and listened to some of the evening acts. I was obviously dog-tired, as I crashed out about half-past nine, and remember little of what I listened to that evening.

Our neighbours at the campsite were a group sharing two tents: father and his friend used one, and stayed up talking loudly 'til 1.30, mother and two kids used the other, and got up at around dawn. This didn't make for great sleep!

Saturday was also wet. The mud was beginning to get silly by this point, and I was feeling a bit unwell. Still, lots of music going on. Tracey Curtis sang haunting songs, but her daughter's point that "you only ever sing sad songs" rang true! Robb Johnson was funny, but a little too loony-left for my liking. Instinkt were great live, but I suspect not so good recorded. They did crazy things with a hurdy-gurdy!

By this point, the lack of sleep was making itself felt again. Then Show of Hands came on. I'm not sure how to describe them, really, because all the words I want to use have been trivialised by over-use. They made me want to cry, they had me singing along to choruses I'd never heard before, they made beautiful, electrifying, passionate music. Easily the best performance of the festival that I saw. Better still they have a sensible attitude to sharing music, which means I have some oggs to listen to :)

The Men They Couldn't Hang were a disappointment after that, and were a bit over-loud. They're somewhere between contemporary folk and the NMA (although their cover of 51st State fell rather flat), and I think they'd be better acoustic. Oysterband closed the evening; I thought they were good but not great.

Sunday was bright and sunny, if a little chill, and I was feeling well again, which helped. The mud wasn't any better, though! The highlight for me was a ceilidh called by Gordon Potts and played by Whapweasel. They played some dances a little fast (and one hop-step *very* fast), but it was fun, and a few people complimented my dancing (it may help that I did the first polka with a young lady who also knew how to polka :). After that, I sat down for Oysterband's final set.

A good weekend, including seeing some friends who I see less than I'd like. It would have been so much better if the weather had been better, and/or they had been better prepared for the possibility of rain.