mINtSOUTH.com

Camp Bestival, Lulworth Castle, Dorset, 24th-26th July 2009.

There was a moment in Florence and the Machines' set which sums up Camp Bestival quite nicely. The delightfully mad Florence is joyfully telling us all how great it is to see so many families and children here, and how nice an atmosphere it creates – pointing out the beautiful sunset behind us, cooing and swooning over a little girl hoisted on her parents shoulders, and how sweet it is. She’s then distracted by the sight of her sister in the crowd, and barely pausing for breath, tells us all about their sibling squabbles and how she’s going to ‘fuck her up’ after the show, ‘yeah, fuck you right up’. Of course, this could all just really encapsulate what a fruitcake she is too.

But in its way, you couldn’t really find a better snapshot to describe the essence of the festivals appeal – family friendly and fun, with a holiday camp feel, whilst still being adult enough for the adults.

Arriving reasonably early on Friday, the queues were surprisingly swift and hassle free. If that wasn’t unusual enough, then the stockpiles of contraband confiscated was not your usual fare – organic baby foods and mayonnaise in glass jars out weighed the glass bongs and vodka bottles five to one.

The site itself straddles the majestic Lulworth Castle and its surrounding grounds, offering a lovely large and well kept area, with ample camping space. Remarkably clean too, by festival standards, and throughout the weekend the stewards keep on top of things so it remains welcoming and relaxing. The lack of rain helped this too.

Split into separate areas, there is a family and children’s zone with plenty on offer –arts and crafts tents, reading areas, fun fair rides and much more to keep the little rascals occupied. Food was also well represented with a Farmers Market, and the locally based Mr Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and his River Cottage Cafe gracing the stalls. Top marks too for the lovely motherly figures of the WI and their £3.50 sandwich, cake and coffee lunches – getting a meal under a fiver at a festival is a rare feat indeed, and where better to dispose of it afterwards than by having an eco-poo?

The two main arenas are well represented with food and drink outlets, bars, bookstalls, and fairy gear. And best of all, none of those twats hawking their ‘bird’ whistles. There’s a jousting arena, and when it all gets a little too much, a woodland walk leading to an animal farm, as well as the opportunity for wood carving to tool the little tykes up with swords. Plenty of outdoor Moroccan style beds and sofas are scattered around the site, and even large ‘Hi De Hi / Ho De Ho' sculptures for the emerging graffiti artists.

But what of the music, the main reason why we’re here? I’ll admit, I had my reservations beforehand – mainly a worry at a lack of big names on the bill.

But, Rob da Bank and the organisers know their stuff and the line-up knitted together pretty well – enough for the kids, the hip student brigade, the Q and Mojo reading parents, and the party animals. Rock, folk, electro pop, indie, blues, country, funk, rap, dub, reggae and dance, all provide something for everyone. As well as this, there’s ample DJ action with everyone from Annie Mac and Zane Lowe, through to Yoda and the Scratch Perverts.

Early on the Friday, the standard was set high by the always fabulous Mumford & Sons. For my money, the most exciting and talented band in the country today, and never fail to mesmerise audiences. Despite the early slot, the beauty of their music had the desired pied piper effect as more and more people were drawn to the main stage – rootsy, folksy, passionate and stirring; once seen, never forgotten. Everyone should see this band.

V V Brown is making the most of riding high whilst Amy Winehouse is getting high, and ticks enough boxes to fill the void admirably. Her voice is powerful and enjoyable, and her enthusiasm and talent is contagious enough to ignore the minor wobbles that experience will iron out – like the ill-advised Kings of Leon cover.

A quick dash across the site and around the castle brings us to the quirky little bandstand stage – it’s barely big enough for a four man band and instruments – for a man who I can only describe as the king of Geek-Hop™, Mr Gideon Conn. Wonderfully funny and effortlessly amiable, Gideon mixes rap with folksy and acoustic rhythms, scratching and funky as hell melodies carving out a unique and infectious sound. Impossible not to groove to and smile at.

Florence and the Machine took us through dusk to night – as mentioned, Florence is quite possibly certifiable and owns the stage, swirling and swooping across its breadth like a pagan Kate Bush, in a glorious white floaty dress. She’s clearly having the time of her life, and so are we, as the Machine take us through a very impressive performance from most of their album. Mad, that one.

Mercury Rev were suitably dark for the night-time slot, cloaking the main arena with a loud, psychedelic sonic display. Party vibe in full swing, the main stage is bought to a close with the jazz gangster himself, the always colourful Kid Creole & the Coconuts –the New York veterans are more New Orleans with a vibrant party pleasing set with jams so funky, even the notes drip with sweat. All the hits are present and correct, and a storming encore of  ‘Stool Pigeon’ brings the house down.

The sunshine continues to hold as Saturday arrives, with the site grounds affording plenty of opportunity for some quiet downtime away in the woods, before Alessis Arks warm folk kicks off the day’s music. An hour or so later and an entirely different atmosphere is generated by a surprisingly tight Goldie Lookin' Chain, who refuse to let the early start (and large child element) dilute their normal set – and damn good it was too. Take out the comedy aspect, and they are a tight hip-hop crew.

Luckily, press perks meant a heads-up on Imelda May running late and being transferred to the tiny bandstand, otherwise trying to get a viewing spot would be a nightmare. As it was, the change of stage suited the rockabilly sound ideally, and was a wonderful up close and personal opportunity for the many fans present. More folk later, as the Big Top fills up for Laura Marling's slightly disappointing performance compared to her normally strong gigs – still, Ghosts was brilliant as always, and the first timers in the crowd still enjoyed it. Perhaps I should have gone to see Frank Turner instead, who's interview with mINtSOUTH you can read elsewhere on the site.

Bon Iver completely blew away my expectations for what was possibly the highlight of the festival (other than briefly bumping into Sir Louis Theroux wandering around). Familiarity with the album meant I was expecting the gig to be just along the Nick Drake / Jeff Buckley lines, but it was also tinglingly powerful. It was difficult for anything to follow that, even PJ Harvey, making her only UK festival appearance. With so many albums and genres to choose from, she chose the occasion to play some of her personal favourites, in what was a low key and solo set. Slightly disappointing, but she’s till wonderful.  As with Friday night, the evening was brought to a funky close, with the slightly wrong Cuban Brothers sending everyone off either shaking their booties into the silent disco, or all bootied out.

Mr Tumble woke up the site on Sunday, and had a lower truancy rate from the campsite than all of the schools combined. There is something quite scary about field full of several hundred kids, especially when they are all dressed as animals. A hard act to follow quipped Scroobius Pip, but he and Dan le Sac managed just fine, throwing out some seriously dirty scratching and dark rhymes. Dub and reggae were the order of the day, easing everyone into the homestretch, with some unifying sets from Horace Andy, Trojan Sound System and a lively Dub Pistols, before the rain finally came.

Despite the wet, sprits were still high, no more so than mine as Will Young was due up – yes I know, bang goes any tiny bit of street cred I might have. I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m a fan, but by the size of his audience, a huge amount came out of the closet for him today. With by far the biggest crowd of Camp Bestival, even in the downpour, he clearly misinterpreted the camp theme, bouncing out in military tunic and top hat – but blew everyone away with his astounding voice and easy going manner.

Sadly, the rain took its toll on me from then on, but there was still time to enjoy Candi Staton's powerful lungs, before saying goodbye and leaving Chic to give way to a blistering finale from the master of ceremonies himself, Mr Rob da Bank.

It’s still only in its second year, but Camp Bestival has hit on a formula that should see it become well established on the festival map, if it keeps up this promise. A few more big names wouldn’t go a miss, but other than that, it’s a fine, fun, family friendly, relaxed weekend – and what more could you want than that.

All pictures © Robin Ball 2009