Features
Dates: Friday 2 July to Sunday 4 July 1999
Ticket hotline: 01344 484123
Website: www.southhillpark.org.uk
Bracknell revisited
Your correspondent penned some scathing words in his last report from
Bracknell. He didn't seem to have such a good time on the Saturday: The music was
not up to scratch. Adeva has been savagely criticised already and the
Freestylers has also failed to deliver.
But, your correspondent awoke the next
day and had a much better time of it (despite suffering from a quite
gruesome hangover). Such was his remorse at the unkindness of his previous
report, that he resolved to write a further report, in order to do justice
to the noble events he had witnessed.
What follows is that second report. The document had been found on his battered corpse, which was discovered on the edge of a
field of oil seed rape in Shropshire. These words then, must serve as his
last will and testament.
From our own correspondent:
I really enjoyed the last day of Bracknell festival. No, really. It was
partly that there were better sounds on offer, but also that my brain had
finally slipped into "festival gear". This is the state of mind required to
get the best out of such events - its main element is a willingness to
embrace diversity, to revel in the "otherness" of the people and events
which you encounter. Large quantities of real ale are also helpful.
I began the day with many other bedraggled revellers, looking for a nosebag
or two full of oats to line the stomach for one more day of abuse. A bunch
of classical musicians provided a soothing musical background as we
ate. The sun struggled out from behind the clouds and gave us a brief,
guilty flash. At least it wasn't raining.
There was much to enjoy throughout the day. For me, the musical highlight
was the brass band that played beside Henry's Beard Organic Cafe for a bit
(a splendid organisation run by a bunch of people from Devon They get around
lots of festivals and their lovely nosh is worthy of a plug: Eat at Henry's
Beard!) They had a tuba, a soprano sax, and some imaginative percussion - I
have no idea who they were but they were marvellous.
Lots of people came to check out the website during the day. Kids were the
most generous in offering us their leg power to charge our battery, though
they generally lacked the staying power to go with their enthusiasm. My
non-musical highlight of the day were the two amazing gargoyles, looking
like extras from an old episode of Doctor Who, cavorting about and scaring
people.
Headlining on the main stage was Ruby Turner, a lady who is always in fine
voice and of whom only the pickiest critic could have any complaint. I
thought the guitarist and backing vocalist were much too loud in the mix - his
terrace chant often drowned out Ruby's sublime trill.
Ruby was great, but we wanted to catch Black Star Liner in the Wilde
Theatre, so we bade her goodnight. BSL were the last of a number of Asian
and Asian-influnced artists under the Oriental Salon umbrella. I had caught
some of them in the Wilde Theatre earlier on. It was all good stuff: traditional drum rhythms and sitars with trancey noises, breakbeats and
shouty raps a la Asian Dub Foundation.
I didn't really know what to expect from Black Star Liner, but they totally
blew my mind (and my eardrums- their sound system had enough decibels to
break up asteroids and save the earth from armageddon). The music had the
trademark elements of the Asian undeground scene - booming bass, synthy sitar
noises and beats that snap, crackle and pop. But it had a more rocky feel,
and this suited their front man, a bloke who must have pushed into the queue
when the rock 'n' roll charisma was being handed out. He had buggy eyes and
an engaging, psychopathic leer on his face, and he was wearing what looked
like a snakeskin jacket. Do the animal rights crowd get cross at people who
wear snakeskin jackets - or are reptiles not cute enough to elicit our
compassion? But I digress- the point is that Black Star Liner rocked. On
this evidence, they deserve a much higher profile than they enjoy at present
and I can't wait to check out their studio recordings.
To finish off the festival, there were fireworks, which went off surrounded
by a fire show, with musical accompaniment from a horde of drummers. With
the fires and the smoky haze, the festival looked like an iron age village
celebrating victory in battle. Not that got to drink from the skulls of our
dead enemies, as would be the custom in such dark times. We didn't get to
drink any more of anything. The last firework went off, and it was all over.
All the bars were shut, and the crowds were swept from the house and its
grounds as if they were a cluster of cockroaches under the sofa. I suppose
it was Sunday, and this was a small, law-abiding festival in a residential
area, but I heard many people muttering that it was shame there was nowhere
for people to go and chill for a bit, that there was no more booze. "That's
Bracknell" a few veterans were heard to reply.
That's Bracknell - a nice,
easygoing mix of the cool and the conventional, a fun and relaxing weekend
for all the family. I will certainly be going back next year. I just hope
they let me in.
Bracknell Festival 99: Home Counties is where the heart is
Voulvez Vous played a stock of Abba cover songs to a packed main stage last night and unofficially lifted the curtains on Bracknell Festival.
Strutting around the stage in wigs and skin-tight jumpsuits the band belted out some classic numbers while the Home Counties crowd danced the night away.
Located in a red-brick Victorian mansion, which once housed Berkshire nobility and even provided Oscar Wilde with accommodation prior to his spell in Reading Gaol, the festival's remit of delivering creating pleseant vibes to a largely crowd was successful. The police reported no arrests and anyone caught scrambling over the flimsy fence or trying to enter with fake writsbands were gently escorted from the premises. Glastonbury it is not, but then it doesn't seem to want to be.
Sitting in the centre of the well-manicured Italian garden 26-year-old Mark lists his gripes: "It's still a place that you can get busted for skinning up". A clear police presence ensures that any potential stone-heads unfold in the shadowy realms of the former stately home.
Meanwhile a group of performing artists on stilts in police uniforms complete with flashing lights ran amok in the crowd and politely poked fun at their straight counterparts.
Katherine, a recent European Business studies graduate from Leicester Business School, swore that Bracknell Festival 99 was the best ever: "The atmosphere is brilliant - everybody pulls together. It's got more groovy and less staid - it's much more for our generation now."
As noisless lightning lit up the night sky the festival emptied out into the camp site. At 1.30 am the festival was officially closed - bongo players congregated and added a free spirited conclusion to a very mellow affair.
Lack of respect
Club songstress Adeva, whose early ninties version of Aretha's "Respect" is fondly remembered by many, delivered a lacklustre set (to a backing tape) during which she insisted on dragging several innocent young kids onto the stage so that we could see how cute they were. I suppose the kids were there to make up for her complete lack of stage presence or interest in doing anything other than just turning up and picking up the cheque.
Ah well, maybe someone told her that headlining the Bracknell festival was a big deal and she was gutted when she turned up to perform to a half-empty field in Berkshire. I dunno, I guess I'm being cynical, but why does she need to do this? It's not as if the girl is underfed (far from it in fact). Enough bitching- she's clearly used to doing PAs at clubs, and her performance would probably have been perfectly adequate in such a setting. And she sings fine. But hey, Adeva- leave those kids alone!
