Music Festival Season: Lessons from the UK
As the weather heats up, no doubt the buzz of the 2013/14 summer festival season is also on the rise.
The last Australian festival I went to was Good Vibrations in 2009, held at Sydney’s Centennial Park. It was a rainy but humid day, and no matter how many overpriced Smirnoff Ices I threw my money at, I somehow remained sober throughout. Predictably though, I lost my friends, everyone around me seemed to be years younger, and I was outwardly annoyed at the simultaneous scheduling of the bands I wanted to see (seeing The Presets was the right decision, but I will forever regret missing Fat Boy Slim). And so it was, as I reflected on time spent at Big Day Out and Homebake in the uncomfortable solitude of a Portaloo, I declared my festival days to be over.
I stayed true to that decree until this year, when I found myself in the middle of the UK's festival season. It soon became apparent that the Victoria coach station I pass by every day is a festival junction. On my way to and from work I found myself surrounded by gumbooted, heavily backpacked revellers embarking on their musical pilgrimages, their meccas changing from weekend to weekend. What I very quickly learned is that if there is one thing the Brits take more seriously than their ponce and pageantry, it’s music festivals.
While most Australian festivals that I’m aware of go for one day, maybe two (with a couple notable exceptions), the British use festivals to maximise the summer experience, running for four, sometimes five, days at a time. Often set in the countryside, there seems to be a festival for just about anyone and anything, with many capable of achieving both at the same time!
The result is that festivals are the essential ‘must do’ activity during the summer, with your social status measured by how many fabric wrist bands you’re still wearing at the end of the season. Given the unofficial degree of ‘coolness’ attributed to each of the festivals – with special credit going to small but exclusive events – it’s no wonder that as the winter chill begins to settle in tickets for Glastonbury 2014 have already sold out. It’s nine months away.
Having only been in the country for a month or so when the festivities kicked off, I hadn’t the chance to give my festival planning any forethought, let alone actually buy tickets. So when I was invited to go along to Chilled in the Field I saw my chance to get out of London, see some English countryside, get my revel on and make my UK festival debut.
Sleeping bag? Check! Wellies? Check! Raging throat infection making it almost impossible to swallow, talk or remain vertical? Check! Check! Check!
Despite having made my way to Etchingham with my bravest face and misguided optimism (read, denial), I spent most of the time in the tent counting down the hours until I could take the next dose of painkillers. My first festival attempt was abandoned within 24 hours as I reluctantly dragged myself back to London, where I promptly sought medical advice and spent the next week in bed.
My partner in festival adventures, DJ B-Fly, pressed on. A veteran festival punter and performer, he achieved a personal best by attending five very different festivals over the summer. In part two of this short series on festivals I talk to B-Fly about his experiences, and ask for a few pointers that this festival-novice can learn, before trying again next year!
The last Australian festival I went to was Good Vibrations in 2009, held at Sydney’s Centennial Park. It was a rainy but humid day, and no matter how many overpriced Smirnoff Ices I threw my money at, I somehow remained sober throughout. Predictably though, I lost my friends, everyone around me seemed to be years younger, and I was outwardly annoyed at the simultaneous scheduling of the bands I wanted to see (seeing The Presets was the right decision, but I will forever regret missing Fat Boy Slim). And so it was, as I reflected on time spent at Big Day Out and Homebake in the uncomfortable solitude of a Portaloo, I declared my festival days to be over.
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I stayed true to that decree until this year, when I found myself in the middle of the UK's festival season. It soon became apparent that the Victoria coach station I pass by every day is a festival junction. On my way to and from work I found myself surrounded by gumbooted, heavily backpacked revellers embarking on their musical pilgrimages, their meccas changing from weekend to weekend. What I very quickly learned is that if there is one thing the Brits take more seriously than their ponce and pageantry, it’s music festivals.
While most Australian festivals that I’m aware of go for one day, maybe two (with a couple notable exceptions), the British use festivals to maximise the summer experience, running for four, sometimes five, days at a time. Often set in the countryside, there seems to be a festival for just about anyone and anything, with many capable of achieving both at the same time!
The result is that festivals are the essential ‘must do’ activity during the summer, with your social status measured by how many fabric wrist bands you’re still wearing at the end of the season. Given the unofficial degree of ‘coolness’ attributed to each of the festivals – with special credit going to small but exclusive events – it’s no wonder that as the winter chill begins to settle in tickets for Glastonbury 2014 have already sold out. It’s nine months away.
Having only been in the country for a month or so when the festivities kicked off, I hadn’t the chance to give my festival planning any forethought, let alone actually buy tickets. So when I was invited to go along to Chilled in the Field I saw my chance to get out of London, see some English countryside, get my revel on and make my UK festival debut.
Sleeping bag? Check! Wellies? Check! Raging throat infection making it almost impossible to swallow, talk or remain vertical? Check! Check! Check!
Despite having made my way to Etchingham with my bravest face and misguided optimism (read, denial), I spent most of the time in the tent counting down the hours until I could take the next dose of painkillers. My first festival attempt was abandoned within 24 hours as I reluctantly dragged myself back to London, where I promptly sought medical advice and spent the next week in bed.
My partner in festival adventures, DJ B-Fly, pressed on. A veteran festival punter and performer, he achieved a personal best by attending five very different festivals over the summer. In part two of this short series on festivals I talk to B-Fly about his experiences, and ask for a few pointers that this festival-novice can learn, before trying again next year!
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