Festival Diary: The Green Man Festival – 19/20/21 August 2011

For many reasons, 2011 has been a very good year for music. Several long-awaited albums have been released, many artists have finally toured, more exciting announcements have been made than many would have dared hope for and if we can momentarily forget about the destruction of the PIAS stock and death of Amy Winehouse, we can safely say that it has been a year of strong musical progression. However, it is for music festivals that this statement is particularly relevant, as 2011 has been the year that brought to light the indisputable realisation that the monopolising reign of the ‘festival giants’ is well and truly over. Nation wide, small and medium festivals have thrived beyond all recognition this year and The Green Man Festival, now in its ninth year and named ‘Best Medium Sized Festival’ at 2010′s UK Festival Awards, is a pretty perfect example of just that.

Green Man itself is nothing short of idyllic. Discreetly nestled in the Brecon Beacons at Glanusk Park, the festival features one gargantuan campsite that runs in a parallel curve along the side of it, and one or two little features that make it stand head an shoulders above the rest, the foremost of which being the most immediate section of the arena. The Main Stage is set at the bottom of what can only be described as a green colosseum, circled by tiered grassy slopes, with trees dotted around the lower tier and around the back of the stage – a set-up which is breathtaking when illuminated from behind at night. A large pond overlooked by an enormous inflatable elephant – returning from the previous year – sits by the side of the main stage and the ‘wishing tree’, where throughout the weekend people hang wishes on small coloured pieces of paper and tie them to the branches.

Up the slopes sits phase two of the festival; a vast selection of food stalls, two of three real ale and cider bars – thank christ, at least one festival has realised that Tuborg is bloody awful – the Rough Trade tent, the magnificent Einstein’s Garden, in which the science and workshop stalls are situated, and the Comedy & Literature tent. All of the above are spread over a vast maze of grass and stone and trees, using far more space than is usual for a festival, which is an absolute blessing, for it means no angry crowds or rotten festival stink of piss and litter. However, it doesn’t end here. Walk up one last slope and you reach the final major tier of the festival, on which is situated the Far Out stage, the enormous handmade Green Man statue which is ritualistically burnt on the Sunday night, Chai Wallahs’ famous chillout area with drinks, shisha pipes and a small stage – this year split into two tents – more food and trinket stalls and, making its first appearance at Green Man, a very merry-old-England-looking ferris wheel. At night, the festival becomes nothing short of a haven, with lights and fire at every turn and people overjoyed at the quality of the food, alcohol and music.

In an unusual and pleasantly surprising move, the festival kicked things off on Thursday night with a special treat for the early birds – an appearance from modern musical comedy legend Tim Minchin, who played a set comprising some wonderful and disarmingly controversial comedy. The encore was another unusual one, however – a cover of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’. Admitting to us that he realises that the vast majority of his fans are atheists, Tim stated that he enjoyed the ‘sweet irony’ of making a few thousand people sing this particular lyrical content in unison.

The festival really started, however, on the main stage on Friday morning, with the winners of the Green Poll 2011, Will and the People. Glorying in the blistering sunshine, the band opened the festival with their smooth and sleazy yet mournfully bluesy sound. For a band of their age, Will and the People displayed excellent attention to dynamics and attack, and I found myself impressed in particular with the feel exhibited by the guitar and drums. The underlying indie tones and surprisingly natural tempo changes made the set ridiculously danceable, and somewhat reminiscent of The Stranglers. Coupling all this with upbeat, wailing vocals and delightful harmonies, the understated and wonderfully melodic set was a perfect opener.

Heading over next to the Far Out stage, I slipped into the comparatively calm atmosphere for a set by Admiral Fallow, who opened with a relaxed and slightly Justin Vernon-esque guitar tone and solo vocals. Live, there was an intensity in the Glaswegian indie-folk band’s delivery that either doesn’t come across or simply isn’t present at all on the record. I was struck by the quality of sound during this set, especially considering the group features two wind instruments. After a few choice songs from their debut album, Boots Met My Face, the band treated us to two new songs, both of which went down an absolute storm and hinted at a new, more experimental and frankly gutsier direction. Laughing off a horribly tuned guitar after a few bars of ‘Old Balloons’, the band closed with massively powerful doubled-up toms and crashing cymbals, and a hearty smile from the usually sombre frontman.

Walking past the main stage towards the tents, we were lucky enough to see a very amusing moment from Danish four-piece Treefight For Sunlight‘s set. Asking the crowd to promise to stand up if they recognised the next song, the band tore into a delightfully brave and surprisingly accurate cover of Kate Bush’s ‘Wuthering Heights’. After a few hours of rediscovering the festival’s layout, a jam in the bookshop/banjo workshop in the surreal Einstein’s Garden and a pie from the infamous Pieminister, it was time to head back over to the Far Out stage for one of the weekend’s most exciting acts – Irish singer-songwriter James Vincent McMorrow. Pulling the largest audience we’d seen yet, James delivered a charmingly honest set, standing on his own in the spotlight on the large stage and holding the crowd’s attention brilliantly. Live, it’s very hard not to fall in love with James as his timid and almost bewildered speaking voice floats over the audience between songs and without fail rendering every member of the audience dumb with shimmeringly beautiful and confident pieces. The man’s falsetto and microphone technique is as impeccable live as it is on the record, and the crowd roared with approval as he closed with the announcement that he is working on a new record.

It was then back over to the main stage for more Irish folk – Conor O’Brien’s Villagers. Although incredibly tight musically, the first few songs of the band’s set were a little bland, and failed to capture the raw brilliance found in Conor’s solo shows. However, towards the end of the performance, the band gained significant momentum as the sound’s intensity doubled, and gained a sense of real folk grandeur. The crowds for Villagers were a sight to behold from the surrounding slopes, gathered in their masses in the twilight, red light spilling onto them from the stage. After this, we stuck around the main stage for forty minutes to see contemporary folk legends Bellowhead absolutely outdo themselves. Although many bands across the weekend successfully packed out the main arena to full capacity, the eleven-piece band had every audience member dancing, linking arms and jigging with one another, and the sound, coupled with the beautiful surroundings, grand lighting and cool evening breeze made for a completely unforgettable atmosphere.

It was now time for texas-based instrumental post-rock legends Explosions in the Sky, the first headliners of the weekend, to grace the main stage with their crescendo based guitar symphonies. Having to follow the tone set by Bellowhead meant the band took a little time to reach their stride – indeed, the first few numbers in their set were somewhat insipid, and lacked the sonic presence needed to create the encapsulating experience they are known for. However, as the ninety minute set reached its halfway point, the crowd’s concentration became more focused and the band delivered. Favorites such as ‘Your Hand In Mine’ were noticeably executed with more conviction than on the record, and as the rain began to fall during a stirringly intense build-up, the momentary dipping of the lights and sound seemed to utterly black out the senses before the band thundered into a giant cacophony of sound, making one of the most memorable moments of the weekend.

Saturday morning was another few hours spent enjoying the atmosphere of the festival, reading in the sun by the enormous Green Man and sampling a mouth-watering smoked bacon and brie bagel from the Dorset Smokery, before seeing the magnificent 9Bach on the main stage treat the sun-soaked audience to their haunting, simple and somewhat medieval sound. Following these on the main stage were Brooklyn-based blues-rock duo-turned-trio, She Keeps Bees. The band’s sound was as raw live as on the record, but displayed a charm and sense of real enjoyment that the studio recordings don’t. Slipping in cute, hilariously funny and interesting banter between the intensely powerful songs, and lacing in heartfelt screams and rustic acapella throughout the set, singer Jessica Larrabee’s commitment and appreciation of the audience were real highlights.

Heading over to the Far Out stage after this was a good move, for 2:54 offered a set of spacey, driving alt-rock, with apparent nods to Sonic Youth and Queens of the Stone Age – or maybe more specifically the Desert Sessions – and the brilliantly powerful vocals from the Thurlow sisters made a refreshing change of pace from the general calm of the festival so far. After this, we stayed put for a stunning set from Ellen and the Escapades, who were obviously somewhat overwhelmed by the size of the crowd. The band played a heartily gratifying set of songs practically dripping with poppy modern folk credibility, and Ellen Smith’s admirable vocals were some of the best I heard all weekend.

After catching the last few minutes of an incredibly intimate acoustic session with She Keeps Bees in the Rough Trade tent, it was back up to Far Out for one of the most talked-about artists of the festival – bearded singer-songwriter Josh T. Pearson. While Josh played passionately and drew an enormous crowd, the sound was inexplicably piercing, which made the usually encapsulating performer’s set literally too loud to bear. Afterwards, the decision was taken to remain in the tent for the brilliant contemporary-jazz complexity of Polar Bear. Rhythmically the band bear a great similarity to Mouse on the Keys, and boasted the finest drum sound of the weekend. The band were an immensely interesting live experience, with the guitarist adding ambiance by letting air out of a balloon into a a delay-laden microphone.

Next on the Main Stage were the American Avett Brothers who, on appearance, looked like another harmony-laden, dreamy folk band. However, they were surprisingly and wonderfully energetic, with raw screams laced in with the rest of the beautifully smooth vocals. After this set, night began to fall and the crowds started to fill out the main arena for Noah and the Whale, who delivered one of the most interesting and enjoyable introductions of the weekend. Leaving the stage empty and playing an instrumental brass version of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ over the PA, which the audience quickly began fervently singing the words along with, before sidling onto the stage, striking the snare at the last beat and blasting into a song of the same key. The lighting for this set was absolutely incomparable, and the coupling of the band’s smart appearance and the warm evening air created a very memorable atmosphere. The violin and backing vocals were almost completely lost in the mix, however, and the tight delivery did not quite mask the fact that the delivery was in fact, somewhat lacklustre, with next to no communication with the adoring audience.

The crowd hardly separated during the 45 minute break before headliners Fleet Foxes came onstage to thunderous applause. The band’s strikingly heartfelt set was completely true to the record, and somehow even more captivating. Lying on the slopes surrounding the stage with the content and sleepy audience around us, feeling the rain patter down and enjoying the mesmerising view of the lights spilling onto the vast audience, it struck me just how unique this festival experience is in comparison to being crammed into a crowd all desperate to get a peek at the band they’ve been waiting to see. Fleet Foxes surpassed all expectations, and the captivating set was seemingly equally enjoyed by both the band and the audience.

Sunday was kicked off for me by Thomas Dybdahl, and his rich, buttery voice. The set opened with surprisingly frantic drums with appropriately summery instrumentation floating over them. The reverb-laden guitars were played with flawless technique, and Thomas led the crowd in a hearty singalong of his song, ‘Cecilia’ before thanking us and making way for James Blake. Having never seen the man perform before, I was unsure what to expect. I was, in many respects, utterly blown away. The live sound was physically heart-pounding, and seemed to make the very air around my head thicken and go still. James’ voice was wonderfully clear above the captivating bass, and even live, his use of a vocoder and looping was without fault. The synth sound was somewhat akin to Kid A-era Radiohead, and whilst there is a very obvious overall likeness to Bon Iver, there is also a hint of Imogen Heap and early Battles in the sound. James remarked that this was his favourite place. The comment ‘I know we’re in Wales, but this couldn’t really feel more English’ caused half the crowd cheer and half boo, although after he professed his joy at playing the same stage as Laura Marling after watching her from the audience last year, the majority of the audience roared with approval.

Next, I left the vast crowd that was gathering for Laura Marling‘s Main Stage appearance for what was, for me, the most exciting and anticipated moment of the whole weekend - The Antlers, another Brooklyn-based band. The word ‘ethereal’ is thrown around a lot when it comes to the widely respected four-piece, and whilst this is very true for their records, the band went above and beyond this live. Playing easily one of the most captivating sets I’d seen not only all weekend, but possibly all my life; there was an intensity that was almost palpable, with the audience standing frozen and in absolute awe of what they were witnessing. The live delivery of the stirring song ‘Kettering’ differed greatly from the quiet, composed album version, with ambient noise tearing through Silberman’s exquisite vocals. Closing with the tear-jerking ‘Putting The Dog To Sleep’ and thanking the crowd vehemently, the band left a deeply satisfied audience, with various iterations of the sentiment ‘oh my fucking god’ to be heard on all sides as they left. I quickly ran over to the Main Stage to see the last few minutes of Laura Marling’s set and was, of course, a little disappointed to have missed it. Her voice, as always, was immaculate, and she seemed very touched at the turnout. The crowd was vast, silent and respectful while she played, and the view from the top of the bowl was breathtaking.

After a hearty bite to eat from Flaming Cactus, I strolled back to see an enormous audience spilling out of the Far Out stage for Suuns, who delivered a set of trancey, driving alt-rock. Eerily affected and sounding slightly industrial, the band played beneath lighting that was as magnificent as any I had seen on the Main Stage, and suited their sound down to the ground. Outside, night had now fallen, and settling on the hills around the Main Stage once more, we were greeted by the soothing Western sounds of The Low Anthem, who’s mesmerisingsly modern, bluesy folk-rock set was somewhat reminiscent of the Grateful Dead and James Taylor, with a little bit of Physical Graffiti-era Led Zeppelin thrown in. As the line ‘first she shot me with whiskey and chased me with gin’ floated over the illuminated masses, the three foremost band members gathered around the far left microphone and displayed a staggering level of sincerity. Completely honest in their delivery, the band’s set was one of the most enjoyable moments of the whole weekend, with the song ‘This God Damn House’ standing out as being particularly stirring. As for the announcer asking us to “give it up one last time for the Low Theory”, well, that was just hilarious.

No-one was going anywhere now, for it was time for the final headliner – Sam Beam’s infamous Iron & Wine, which sadly clashed with the magnificent Alessi’s Ark on the pub stage. The audience had relaxed by now, after three days of drinking and enjoying themselves, and Sam Beam’s arrival on stage was warmly greeted. Opting to remain on the slopes and view the last hurrah from a distance, I was struck by how much more energetic Iron & Wine is live in comparison to the relatively muted records, and by the surprisingly electric sound emitted. A rendition of ‘Wolves (Song Of The Shepherd’s Dog)’ went on for at least ten minutes and included some real performance, solos and fascinating build-ups. Although Sam Beam is famously a bit of a gamble live, and his solo shows are often more highly rated than the group, it paid off marvellously and rounded off the main entertainment better than anyone could have hoped for.

However, the night was far from over. For the first time all weekend, I felt crowded as the entirety of the festival moved up the slopes to the highest tier of the festival to watch the Green Man burn amidst fire performers and fireworks. As the flames licked around the tall, grand flammable monument and the first fireworks blazed into the sky, the crowd cheered, clapped and catcalled into the night, rejoicing in the shared atmosphere and the dizzying sight of the flames against the illuminated sky. After this, and the families had returned to their section of the campsite, the only place to really be was Chai Wallahs, where The Correspondents played an upbeat, sweaty and utterly entertaining set of their own brand of electro-swing, involving the audience brilliantly, and with Mr Bruce including his famous treadmill in the performance. For the first time ever, at least as far as I know, The Correspondents included two live brass players in their set, which brought such incredible life to the performance that it’d be very, very surprising if it isn’t something that they continue. After this, it was finally time to stumble back down the slopes and through the campsite – which, by the way, was close to immaculate even by the time I departed the next day – and eventually, to bed.

Last summer, I spent most of Green Man Festival 2010 saying over and over again that if we’d had sun and blue skies as opposed to the solid rain that was literally crushing our weaker tents into the ground, then it would probably be, on all counts, one of the most perfect festivals in the country. I’m delighted to say confidently that my hypothesis was absolutely spot on. Never has a festival provided such seclusion from everyday life (in such a positive way), or surrounded us by as much genuinely loveable music and such like-minded, decent people. All things considered, Green Man absolutely delivered in every respect, and so here’s to the small and medium sized festivals of Great Britain – may they continue, remain at affordably priced and not outgrow themselves.

All photographs courtesy of, and exclusive property of Lee Fryer.