“A
Great Boy’s Day Out!” was my summary of my inaugural Saturday trip to Wickham
Folk Festival with my 2 sons, back in 2019, so this mid-sized event, musically admittedly
at the periphery of my largely indie/ punk/ rock tastes, nonetheless remained
firmly on my radar. So a repeat Saturday trip for myself and Logan was “on” for
2020’s Saturday, once said day announced an itinerary including full band
performances from our local folk/ punk favourite Gaz Brookfield, a return for the
splendid Nick Parker and a first opportunity to see New Wave veteran
singer-songwriter Nick Lowe, plus a “surprise” headliner, all clues at the time
pointing hopefully to Elvis Costello but ultimately turning out to be veteran
Irish folk/ bluesman Van Morrison! Also not necessarily to my tastes, but one
worth adding to the gig CV…
Then…
Covid hit, wiping out all Summer 2020’s festival activities, despite early
hopes that lockdown might be lifted in time to get this event on… The whole
bill was “rolled” to 2021, tickets and all, so we held on to our tix in the
hopes that the bill would stand pat. Unfortunately, despite all restrictions
being eased in time to get the event on, the bill was affected with non-UK acts
not being able to attend, and Gaz Brookfield – a type 1 Diabetic who had spent
much of the lockdown period self-isolating for his health and who, entirely
understandably, didn’t feel ready to perform – also announcing his withdrawal.
Some bad news also leading up to the event, with “problems” with the main stage
requiring a rejig of the stages and running times, and poor weather reportedly
rendering the site and surrounds more than a bit muddy…!
Still,
we were still up for the day out (a bit of mud never stopped the rock!), so we
headed down South late morning on a cloudy but (so far) dry day, pulling off
the main road and into the “Day Parking” queue about 12.30. 15 minutes later,
we were still stuck there in an immovable queue, with cars in front of us
turning tail and heading back out. After questioning one such driver who
informed me that the parking field was “a quagmire”, we followed suit, speaking
rather unsatisfactorily to a festival steward on the way out (“anywhere else to
park?” – “No, sorry” – “but I hear it’s a quagmire!” – “yes, we’re towing cars
on and off the field” – “that’s a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?” – “sorry, mate, I
didn’t ask for it to rain…”) then desultorily heading back the way we came,
seriously considering packing it in and going home, even at this early stage,
if there was no alternative to leaving the car in the bog! Luckily a local small
Garden Centre opened their overspill car park for us (“you might as well park in
there, I’ve a feeling we’re going to be sent more cars shortly…”), so we donned
heavy boots and squelched our way through a soggy campsite to the main arena.
Same site as before, situated on the side of a hill, but this time all the
stalls, activities etc. were clinging to the perimeter of the site, ironically
where the mud was the worst! Still, we navigated our way through the mud to the
Big Top tent in the corner – 2019’s second stage, this year’s makeshift main one
– for our first act YOUNG ‘UNS, a largely acapella trio bemoaning the fact that
a sudden surge in popularity of sea shanties – their stock-in-trade – coincided
with their not being able to perform them due to lockdown! Still, a couple of
rousing numbers about class struggles through the ages (Stefan Cush would be
looking down proudly, I thought) and a lovely poignant closer “Tiny Little
Notes” (about a girl who leaves notes on a Sunderland bridge imploring people
not to take their own lives) punctuated an entertaining start.
We
wandered down the front, Logan grabbing some barrier and myself chatting to
fellow fan Claire, braving the entire weekend with her boys, for NICK PARKER
AND THE FALSE ALARMS, on at 10 to 2. With Gaz’ withdrawal, Nick’s set was
suddenly the crux of our day, and happily the man delivered – big time! “Never
Been To Dublin” was a joyous, raucous opener, encapsulating Nick’s oeuvre of
folk-tinged but deceptively hooky melody and intelligent, well-crafted storytelling.
The man remarked, “lovely weather!” and gave a shout-out to the site crew
before a soaring, singalong “Make Yourself At Home”, Nick remarking at the
ovation at its’ conclusion with, “I’ve missed the clapping at the end of my
songs!”. A well-chosen set delivered singalong banger after singalong banger,
the unprompted “ba-ba” fill-in’s during “Departures” and the hoedown denouement
to “Terry And June” proving early highlights, before Nick introduced the Worley
family, mum and 2 kids, for the traditional sign-aloft prompts during an
excellent “Es Tut Mir Leid”. The little girl was an absolute star, waving her
sign as if her life depended on it, then going utterly bat-s-word crazy during
another subsequent hoedown. A great set ended, appropriately, on an unnamed
song of hope, because that’s what we all need right now, right?
Logan
persuaded me to buy him the Nick Parker hoodie that the merch lady persuaded
him to try on (!), and we had a brief chat with Nick during the opening numbers
of former Clannad frontperson MOYA BRENNAN’s subsequent set. With 2 harps as
part of the stage set-up, this was always going to be a very quiet offering,
her wispy traditional Irish melodies evoking mists rolling in off a dusky
evening loch, so no surprise Nick kept shushing me during our chat – I do tend
to talk a bit loud, me…! Time to kill thereafter, so we trudged through the mud
to the far end of the site, by the half-built and wind-battered main stage
(apparently said stage was delivered both too small and too late, hence its’
abandonment!), sussing out possible tea destinations amongst the half dozen
eateries clustered around the wooden picnic benches. Took the weight off
awhile, but a fine misty rain began to fall so we sought shelter in the small Marquee
second stage. HATTIE HATSTAR provided some fun mid-afternoon diversion –
looking like Mel Giedroyc’s older sister in pink bloomers but coming across musically
like a cross between They Might Be Giants and Frank Sidebottom, through a Sarah
Millican filter (OK I’m reaching here a bit, bear with me…), she swapped
between accordion and ukulele and sung quirky ditties such as, “I want to give
birth to a Clanger because Clangers are made of pink wool” (accompanied by her
very own crowd-surfing Clanger!), “Dance like a twat – because life’s too short
not to”, and the one about loving one’s pets more than one’s partner. Funny,
wry and observational, Hattie was the (Hat) star of a barmy but entirely
entertaining set!
Tea
beckoned then, so we split a pork roll before a wander back to the main stage
for SETH LAKEMAN. A singer-songwriter I was totally unfamiliar with, his Irish
tinged pop melodies were passable, no more, but attracted a big crowd, so what
do I know, hey? Anyway, we circumnavigated the tent in increasingly glutinous
conditions (Logan almost getting stuck in a particularly deep puddle!), to take
a good viewing position as the Lakeman massive exited at the end of his set.
NICK
LOWE was next up at 6 – a veteran of early 70’s pub rock staples Brinsley
Schwarz, he’d then dovetailed in nicely with the late 70’s proto New Wave
singer-songwriter crowd centred around Stiff Records, as performer, songwriter
and producer, and enjoyed a brief flurry of “pop” hits before, like his
contemporary Elvis Costello, ploughing a more exploratory and idiosyncratic
furrow through various musical genres, more bluesy and rootsy than those late
70’s New Wave days. I confess I own a grand total of 2 Nick Lowe albums, both
from those days, so much of this set was largely unfamiliar to me. Also, Nick
had unfortunately fallen foul of the UK Covid passport rules, his intended lucha
libre wrestler-masked Mariachi backing band Los Straitjackets being stuck
in Mexico (!), so, in his words, “you’ve got me on my jack!” However, initial
disappointments were soon allayed by the man’s quiet, understated delivery and
the charmingly classy song-writing quality of the material. The man can put a
tune together, no messin’!
Showing
various facets of his musical oeuvre, this was a virtuoso meander through a
varied and impressive canon. Bluesy opener “Man That I’ve Become” ceded to more
upbeat, almost 50’s rockabilly-esque gallops such as “Long Limbed Girl” and
“Love Starvation”, the more introspective balladry of “People Change” and the
gorgeous “Lately I’ve Let Things Slide”, and even an unexpected cover of the
Bee Gee’s 80’s cheese-fest “Heartbreaker”. But, inevitably “Cruel To Be Kind”,
delivered 40 minutes in and accompanied with a comment of, “that’s not even my
best song – but it’s the one the public heard and said, THAT is a hit, so thank
you!”, was my highlight. Well, until a slow-burn and plaintive rendition of
“(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace Love and Understanding”, anyway…! A rambunctious
“I Knew The Bride (When She Used To Rock’n’Roll”) concluded a fine hour from
the great man – splendid stuff!
We
hovered outside the tent, house left, afterwards – ostensibly hoping to catch a
word with Mr. Lowe should he emerge from backstage (he never did) – as VAN
MORRISON kicked his very bluesy set into gear with “Deadbeat Saturday Night”
and “Three Chords And The Truth”. By this time, however, interest was waning
and limbs were tired of fighting against the mud, so we called it a day 20
minutes or so in, after a false start and quick dash back upfield to see Van do
Them’s 60’s classic, the Doors-like rocker “Baby Please Don’t Go”, which he
merged in with an equally raucous “Got My Mojo Working”. Which, indeed he did
have, fair play to him, but we were done.
A
slow squelch out and a quick drive saw us home about 9.30 after a varied day. A
Wickham Festival Saturday that was in all honesty a bit of a dog’s breakfast –
part of me can’t help thinking that contingency plans could have sorted some
issues, whilst recognising others were out of the organisers’ collective
control. However, we both enjoyed the two Nicks at least, so all in all, another
memorable (at least!) Boy’s Day Out!
