Belladrum, 11 August 2007

Orchestre del Sol.

THIS WAS my first visit to the Tartan Heart Festival. I’d seen all the photos of previous years with people rolling about in mud, clearly the worse for wear. The summer so far hadn’t been promising, but I desperately wanted to see the re-formed James and so on Saturday, I painted flowers on my wellies, fake tan on my legs and headed off clutching a portable seat and my camera.

I had shared a taxi which took us close to the entrance, and the stewards waved us in to the field where I wandered around, trying to get my bearings. The layout was easy, and it was quite pleasant just to wander around without getting involved in anything.

I peeked in to see belly-dancing in Madame Fifi’s Dance Parlour, watched someone blend their own smoothie by pedal-power and checked out the chill-out domes in case I needed them later. The children’s areas were pretty impressive; lots of crafty things to make, the usual face-painting, bouncy castles and plenty of room to recover when it all got too much.

The drumming tent, where anyone was welcome to have a go, sounded much more impressive than you would have expected, and it was good to see all ages having so much fun together.

This year saw the introduction of the Verb Garden where I kicked off the day listening to Lloyd Cole giving us his thoughts on life, interspersed with some acoustic numbers. It was great to hear him sing without any back-up and you could hear what a strong and unique voice he has.

He talked about there being a ‘cult of creativity’ and the pressure on songwriters to keep on churning out songs even if they were all dried up. True to form, he didn’t hold back with naming names, but as none of them were appearing at Belladrum, there was no need to fear immediate repercussions. He sang a few oldies and some newer numbers and after the hour seemed happy to stay on chatting and signing autographs.

I went back to the Verb Garden later on to hear Liz Lochhead. It was a brave move introducing poetry to a music festival, but she was the ideal choice and seemed very comfortable with a crowd a wee bit more interactive than your average book festival audience.

It didn’t bode well, when I passed someone on my way in, telling her pal not to bother as “It’s some bird daein’ poems” but she drew a reasonable crowd, all of whom stayed for the entire session.

So what about the music? The beauty of a festival is that you are not stuck listening to the same act for an hour. You can wander in and out and if you like someone, have a bop or a seat for as long as you want.

Acts worthy of mention? Ben’s Brother was excellent. The Dangleberries – three bagpipes, a guitarist and half a dozen drums, lots of energy and enthusiasm and a play list that ranged from Black Sabbath to Dougie MacLean. I missed the start of their set (a recurrent pattern to my day), but liked what I saw and the crowd certainly seemed to be having fun.

Another lively act was Orchestre del Sol, a cross between Madness and the Barmy Army that follow the England cricket team. Both of these were fun festival bands giving the audience a chance to jump about, as did String Driven Thing, who had a great sound and energy.

The Potting Shed suffered a little from the weather, it being outside and a sit-down rather than a jump-about venue, so it was to Davy Cowan’s credit that so many people sat through a downpour enjoying his musical tales.

I saw the Parsonage Choir here, following their reportedly excellent reception on the Garden Stage, and enjoyed them for a time. I wasn’t sure if they had been gatecrashed with some additional members tagged on at either side, but it was all very harmonious in a Sunday night radio sort of way.

Who else? Reckless Eric, looking quite respectable really, but putting on a great show with Amy Rigby on the Grassroots Stage, which won my vote for the best venue. Maybe a link to the sponsor and their beer? Kate Nash, drawing a crowd beyond the capacity of the tent and giving the police their bit of excitement for the day, fighting back the hordes listening patiently outside. Fred Morrison was good as always, but would have been better in a more intimate setting.

I was beginning to flag a bit, so after a quick chat to the psychic (who had been booked up all weekend), a visit to the mental health awareness stall, Oxfam and Miscarriages of Justice, I was off to Madame Fifi’s for some Flamenco dancing. Forget dark-eyed temptresses from southern climes and picture wellie-wearing campers from Glasgow. If ever a dance teacher had her work cut out.

And then, time to grab a snack (porridge, risotto, haggis, smoked salmon, I tried the lot) and make my way to the Garden Stage for the main act. If this had been the end of the festival I would have gone home quite happy, but James quite simply wiped everything else out.

The setting of the stage was excellent, and you can’t imagine this walled garden being wasted on horticulture. I did hear some complaints on the way out about the sound quality, and fair to say that at my point near the front, the crowd were often louder than the band. You are never going to get perfect acoustics in an open arena, and the live experience more than made up for it.

The set was mainly old favourites, but there were hints of more to come from this iconic band in the future. A song written the day before in tribute to Tony Wilson probably didn’t get the hearing it deserved, but it was good of the band to acknowledge a man who gave so much to them and to today’s music.

A last blast of ‘Come Home’, a firework display and then the long trudge uphill to the campsite. A great venue, a unique atmosphere and the best day out I have had in a long time. Roll on next year’s mud.

© Karen Ray, 2007

Links

• Tartan Heart Festival