Review of Standon Calling
 | "A beautiful tiny uncorrupted festival" by Jen Soame for remotegoat on 05/08/09 |  |
Finally locating it and off to explore we realised it's actually someone's extended garden. The birthday boy Alex lives in a large country house complete with family swimming pool which is boldly open to use for festival goers; and is now surrounded by life-size Button Moon paraphernalia. Because Standon Calling pays attention to details - this year's theme is 'Space' to tie in with the 50th anniversary of the moon landing, and so amongst the immense music line-up are educational lectures and films, and installations around the site of a nose dived R2D2, a misplaced Tardis and a crash-landed Delorian. This is not to forget the incredible fancy dress which was whipped out particularly on the Saturday night including giant puppetered aliens and robots, a large group of coneheads, a giant eye ball and more glitter than can be found in an under 5s playgroup.
And the bars were all unique; Galileo bar equipped with conical vases with intriguing coloured liquids, shelves of glass bottles, suspended musical instruments, model railway tracks framed on the walls, armchairs and standing lamps. Tree bar was centred in the middle of the site, round a beautiful old oak tree. Space age Apollo complete with disco floor surrounded bar. And Barbarella, half correctional facility, half East London warehouse, converted from a cow shed, where the late nighters danced until sunrise.
And on top of this!? Heritage Arts Company ran an interactive installation that was so special that I still can't speak of it properly, A Million Tiny Plays was run from the inside of a two man tent making you witness to the most intimate observations of our fair Britain, Wet Sounds played music especially designed for underwater listening in the pool and 5-a-side football where skill was unnecessary but the ability to play with binoculars on was in demand. But My God, I'm rambling. The music!
Friday
Lulu & The Lampshades always dazzle, and they impressed a vast number of people despite playing early on the Friday. Lulu has a beautiful soul voice, harmonising with the band using violin, ukulele and a marvellous use of two pint glasses as percussion for an acappella song - a tuneful and rhythmic masterpiece.
Tim Ten Yen is eccentric to say the least. He danced in the centre of the emptyish Galileo tent and sang along to a laptop generated tune, jumping athletically and bouncing like a spring. To cap it all, one song involved feline subject matter and so mid song he took time out to parade a grey fluffy cat around the audience for everyone to stroke.
First Aid Kit are young. As one newly converted gentleman remarked 'they're way too young to be that cynical'. But wow, their talent is quite startling. Perfect harmonies that make you fuzzy and stab you in the heart both at once. Using a rarely seen instrument, they sing mournful tales, perfectly executed. Childhood phenomenon? Or do they need time to truly shine? We shall see.
Enough of the folk, and on to crazy electro! Manchester born The Whip ripped up the Main Stage as the sun went down and as it's such a small festival there was room right under their noses to dance as crazy as you liked.
And then back to the folk… but Mumford & Sons don't sit back and strum a soothing guitar. Their upbeat folk-country foot-stomping was well worthy of their headline slot and even the new songs went down well (SO rare for a festival crowd). 'If I say ho, you say down!' Go see them now if you haven't. Seriously. Do it.
And then to carry on the early morning dancing, a CCCP take over of the Galileo tent. Led by Russian and Eastern European inspired DJs, fully introduced by a crazy Russian guitarist in a pink headscarf and fur hat playing the Soviet National Anthem Hendrix style, eccentric bands and happenings ensued. The tent shook with stamping feet.
Saturday
We started the day with a hike up to the nearest hill around the site - bar a few local kids that inevitably sneak in they trust you to go in and out as you please, including having a footpath open through the site that locals must have access to. Up above it all you could really see the tiny size of the place, we took great joy in watching the ant-like people skanking round the Main Stage to the sounds of gypsy-rockers Death Ray Trebuchay.
Back in the field we saw Iain Woods & the Psychologist who was a gyrating young man dressed in all gold - shiny leggings, even shinier gold plastic poncho, gold body paint - stunning. Accented by silver wrestling masked female laptopist and two alien violinists, the dirty electro beats were lacking a little something but the costumes and showmanship were enough to keep me entertained.
Dent May & His Magnificent Ukelele had my folk-applause for the day. Backed by two charming men providing doo-wop harmonies, Dent's set was melodic, fun but meaningful, wonderfully crafted acoustic pop.
Friendly Fires attracted what I could see as the biggest crowd of the festival, headlining the main stage. While some weren't converted to the indie-dance-pop, others danced in the neon lights to new and old tracks alike.
Then off to the cowshed! With intermittent trips to a mysterious teepee run by poets The Book Club Boutique complete with sound system and 100 dancing bodies. We danced for hours amongst aliens and 60s space beauties as we saw the sun rise over the hills…
Sunday
Dead Kids… my goodness me, a highlight of the festival, in a way. Having seen them several times before they never ever ever cease to amaze me. After singer Mike confided to me that he was going to have a quiet gig this time, appropriate for a Sunday afternoon, he was as incensed as usual, jumping and screaming round the stage, jumping into the drum kit and drummer in an attempt to vault the lot from a speaker stack. For last song Into The Fire, he demanded a boy of 8 or so climb onto the stage, hauling him onto his shoulders, and then leaving him centre stage to scream into the mic. I had my hands shadowing my eyes, I couldn't look, this was David Brent embarrassment as the boy stood there for minutes, just screaming as loud as he could because he just had no idea what else to do. I prayed for it to stop. Mike bounded back on after an eternity, incited a rapturous round of applause from the crowd and then let the boy go. I saw him afterwards and he wasn't crying, he just had a freaky look of shock on his face. In ten years time I think he may be on the cover of NME.
Joe Gideon and The Shark were one of my most delightful surprises of the weekend. A guy singing with a bass, a girl on drums, keyboard and singing, often all at once, changing tempo, speed, style in a second, looping new melodies and rhythms but always keeping everything so tight in a blues, alt-rock, noir vein. They are something really special.
And to the final acts of the weekend. Tony Christie, what a legend, and one of our own too. With a voice that has never deteriorated, he was modest, appreciative and loved every second. With slight sarcasm he announced the final song and as one lady who walked past me proclaimed after 'it was nice to see such diversity of age but all the kids were there to see that song'. Bar an amazing performance of 'You're too good to be true', Amarillo did get the biggest response in all truth but this was to be expected. This was Sheffield before Pulp and Arctic Monkeys and it must have been grand.
And the best way to finish a weekend of dancing? A night of dancing! And Femi Kuti more than provided that. (And much to our delight, they were introduced by the elusive Alex who we'd been having bets on the identity of all weekend). A 10+ band including three dancing girls took everyone to another place, keeping us warm, keeping our feet moving and hips swaying for an hour and a half. Always keeping the smallest break between songs, once Femi paused hands above his keyboard, commanding all the respect of a church preacher on his organ. What more can I say? Pure genius.
So what was this festival about? Some would argue it's a posh kid's birthday party; champagne occasionally flowed amongst guests and neighbours young and old were invited. Others would say it is a beautiful tiny festival, as yet uncorrupted by any corporate takeover (and may we pray it never will be), and definitely worthy of Time Out's claim of it being 'this year's best boutique festival'. I'll definitely be coming again, and you should to, but don't tell too many people, it just wouldn't be the same.
| Event Venues & Times | |
| finished | Standon Lordship | Barwick Road, Standon, SG11 1PR |
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