The festival atmosphere began to build even in the car, on the drive up to Blakey. Having just finished listening to Mostly Autumn's Anthology CD I put on Radio One and spookily, Chris Moyles enthusiastically introduced the new single by Four Day Hombre "The first word is the hardest". It was the first time I'd heard the track, none the less, my immediate reaction was to turn up the volume.
After what seemed like a lifetime but was in fact not long after, we were actually on Blakey Ridge, as usual the sheep cast bored glances at us as we sped by, the moors stretching off into the horizon, like a vast carpet, in every direction.
As we crested yet another hill, a white speck appeared in the far distance ahead of us. As we got nearer it became clear what we could see was the stage, looming like a white, Dover cliff. Nearer still, and the sheer size of it spoke volumes about what we could expect the festival to offer.
Pulling up at the Lion Inn at about 4.30pm I noticed three things as I got out of the car, the first was the blustery wind, the second was the black rain clouds in the distance and the third was the happy smiling faces of the people already milling around.
Tent City was already under construction and we joined the throng, finding a spot the sheep hadn't visited for toilet duties was like looking for Bin Laden, a waste of time! I took a moment and watched several people doing a weird dance that involved grimly hanging onto a tent flysheet while trying to knock pegs in at the same time, all while an unforgiving wind beat double time.
As my last peg went in, the rain started, all right for us but not so for those just arriving or still unpacking tents from bags. A little damp and dishevelled, I eventually crossed the threshold of the Lion Inn.
As usual it was like stepping into another world. Warm and cosy, the pub was packed. Despite this we managed to find a seat, order drinks, food, be served quickly and all with a smile from the bar staff.
The atmosphere was great and as the night wore on, it just got better. Later and with drink in hand I moved through the low door, into the music room, Prendo were just about to get underway, the place was buzzing. The crowd couldn't have been more eclectic, it was great to see so many young kids watching awe struck as the band cranked through a mixture of covers and original material.
Prendo were blinding, waves of guitar splendour bounced off the stone walls and swept the crowd along, keeping up with it was thirsty work, luckily the bar was well staffed and stocked, so no problems there.
The next day, I awoke with a slight headache, gummy mouth as well as aches and pains and wondered if perhaps I was coming down with a summer cold? Umm, maybe not! A bacon sarnie soon made me feel a bit better and I ventured out to have a look around the site.
It was still breezy but the rain clouds had gone. Tent City had doubled in size and a steady stream of new arrivals continued to contribute more cars and canvas throughout the morning. The festival field was dominated at one end by the huge stage and directly opposite by an impressively large white beer tent. Blue portaloos stood like evil sentries down one side, a mesh security fence ringed the whole thing.
Once open, entry to the festival field was through the beer tent, security was efficient as well as good-natured. This allowed the crowd to pass though at a steady rate and with the minimum of fuss.
Shortly after 2pm and with the sky bright despite the clouds, "The Stork Club" took to the stage, they ripped through their set, including a number of blues classics.
The crowd began to settle, in groups around the field, soaking up the beer along with the withering guitar work of the band. Up on stage it looked like the wind was keeping the temperature down but despite this The Stork Club provided an excellent opener to the festivities, bantering with the audience along the way.
A quick change over and Gina Dootson appeared before us, waif-like and clutching her acoustic guitar she looked dwarfed by the expanse around her, but from the first chord she played, it was evident she was anything but dwarfed. The wall of sound she produced was astonishing. The crowd was spellbound from the very first note.
With her long hair whipping in the wind, she opened with "Ricochet", her voice clear and strong, next came "Rebel" her accomplished playing blending with her vocals like peaches and cream. Throughout her set she looked truly relaxed, chatting to the crowd while fine tuning the acoustic in between each song. By stripping down to a vest top, she raised a hearty cheer from the male contingent, she said she was hot, the crowd agreed.
Another slick change over and Darlington based trio, Stone Coda came out rocking, having seen them last year, it was interesting to see how far they had come. Accomplished and self assured, they had certainly matured. As they entertained the crowd, I went for a wander, via the beer tent up to the pub.
Most of the crowd were watching the band but like most festivals, there were people back at the tents chilling out, others exploring the site and yet more propping up the bar. Every now and then the sun cracked through the clouds, the wind died and summer was resumed.
Next on stage was Dave Keegan, another acoustic artist, I have to confess I missed most of his set, sampling the delights of the bar, chatting to fellow drinkers and generally enjoying the crack. I managed to catch his last song and was reliably informed I'd missed something special.
Back in the Festival Field, preparations for the next band were underway, in the lull, kids were running around, playing, drinks were topped up and the smell of BBQ food hung in the air. Looking around an amphitheatre of deck chairs had sprung from the ground, in front of the beer tent, with yet more people lying on the grass, in front of them.
By now the sun was low in the sky and a little left of the stage, along with the cloud cover, it created the cosy effect of being camped under a silky dome.
As Four Day Hombre moseyed into view, it struck me that you would need a parachute if you wanted to go stage diving, they were so high up. Not too high though, and it did afford all an excellent vantage point from anywhere inside the festival enclosure.
The crowd seemed to swell just as the band took their positions, the feeling that something special was about to happen was tangible in the air. Then something special actually arrived and Four Day Hombre proved worthy of their formidable reputation, brilliant does not adequately describe how good they were, if these boys don't make it, I'll eat my shorts.
They looked relaxed, composed, professional, their music sounded fresh, innovative and well put together, at times snippets of the past drifted by with the odd nod towards the shoe gazing 80's era and the likes of Chapter House, but in the main they rocked.
Pegging their sound would be too limiting, they were multi dimensional, omnipotent, drastic and fantastic. On this performance alone, they could have sold out of their limited edition single "The first word is the hardest" which was their finale. Though the crowd was begging for more, unfortunately the tight running order offered no room for an encore.
Next up came another stunning set from Prendo, the main man looked like a chunkier version of the Stray Cats singer Brian Setzer and the bass player looked like he would be at home crouched in some boxers corner, but together with their drummer they rolled out groove after groove. They sounded like they had been beamed down from the "Pulp Fiction" soundtrack and John easily deserved his guitar virtuoso reputation.
As Prendo, engrossed in his music, did the business, it was no longer possible to resist the pull of the BBQ, so I watched the rest of their set wiping ketchup off my chin and tapping my feet.
Following Prendo, came Audiogasm. A local band from Pickering and as such they got a great welcome from the crowd. Throughout their set they were enthusiastic but the Led Zeppelin overtones sometimes drifted into a synchronised strumming contest.
Generally they were very likeable, with their music sounding on the heavy side of commercial. Perhaps some would say that their set contained too many similar tracks and maybe their true ability wasn't represented but all things considered it must have been hard to pick a set list to suit the time available and still manage to please everyone.
The highlight of watching Audiogasm and one of the day so far, came when they launched into an inspired cover of Guns & Roses' "Sweet Child o' Mine" it raised a huge cheer from the crowd and ironically better showcased the band's obvious ability than that of their own material.
The now characteristic slick change over brought Banoffi stage centre. An inspired structuring of the running order meant that their manic Celtic folk music offered a respite from the recent guitar onslaught. By now the beer tent had worked its magic and the pull of the music had become too hard to resist. So by the time they were a couple of songs into their set, Banoffi could enjoy a large section of the crowd dancing merrily below them.
Everyone in the festival field looked animated, there was an almost tribal feel to the dancing masses, the only thing missing would have been a huge bonfire to counter act the now fading light.
As Banoffi played "Bluebells" the crowd seemed to be contemplative, the light was now fading fast and although there was no actual sunset to enjoy, one would have been quite apt.
The end of their set conjured vague visions of snake charmers and belly dancers, though admittedly that may also have been the Heineken heavy lunch!
Their jigs and reels certainly touched the alcohol gene, now present in most of the audience but their musicianship shone through with each tune.
As Banoffi hit the home straight, the massed ranks of the Mostly Autumn appreciation society became restless, though it had been a fantastic line up many were now preparing for what to them would be the highlight of the day.
As the stage was reset for the final time, the crowd seemed split down the middle, one group chomping at the bit waiting impatiently for the headliners, the others curious to see if the day so far could be topped. Regardless everyone in the enclosure was now on their feet.
After what seemed like an age, the empty stage filled with dry ice, ethereal background music drifted over the heads of the audience and off into the night, then after again what actually was an age the faithful were rewarded and Mostly Autumn took to the stage.
With more than a feel for the dramatic, the band cranked it up and their fans responded on mass. Musically they lived up to their considerable reputation. It seemed whatever they played, their fans loved. Those just a little more critical would have pointed out limitations in their vocal cohesion but judging by how loud they were, it is doubtful that, even given the on stage monitors, the band could actually hear clearly what they were playing or singing.
For the second time of the day it seemed a cover version stole the show, when Mostly Autumn offered a superb rendition of Deep Purples' "Smoke on the water" this alone probably endeared them to many of the non believers.
So with Fireworks splitting the night sky Mostly Autumn finished their set and closed the show. Some had already drifted back to the tents but plenty were still there at the death, milking every last ounce of music out of the day.
The morning after soon arrived, not before much noise, early hours bongo drums from a tent far too close and a drunken acoustic guitar player with no sense of self respect. The rain had returned along with the wind, which meant taking the tent down was even more interesting than putting it up.
The bogs looked like they had been hit by a nuclear attack and definitely had an authentic festival feel to them, my heart went out to whoever had the job of sorting them out, surely no one is that brave?
Lasting memories, stunning sound quality throughout, brilliant line up, Watching mesmerised as Gina Dootson produced the goods. Drinking much Heineken, being blown away by Four Day Hombre, soaking up the stunning scenery, laughing lots with mates, left me going home wanting more. The festival at no point felt too big or too small, it just felt right!
Allan Jeff
Matmata Media
PREVIOUS REVIEW REVIEWS INDEX NEXT REVIEW
