The Larmer Tree Festival 2010

The Larmer Tree Festival 2010

22 July, 2010
by: Bexy

Rebecca Hobson reviews the unique Larmer Tree Festival.

Unless you live in a cave or ignore the media, it’s unlikely you’ll have missed Glastonbury turning 40 this year. But you’d be forgiven for having missed the Larmer Tree Festival’s milestone 20th birthday. Glasto’s modest baby brother, the original boutique festival doesn’t shout about anniversaries, and for good reason; with a faithful clientele and a conscious anti-corporate ethos, despite always selling out, the festival refuses to expand past its intimate 4000 person limit.

The Larmer Tree Gardens that host the festival are hidden in rolling countryside somewhere between Salisbury and Blandford. They are home to the End of the Road Festival and once housed the The Big Chill. Yet, whereas the latter quickly outgrew the unique Victorian playground, the Larmer Tree Festival refuses to compromise, remaining one of the best festivals around.

I’ve been going for the past twelve years. I have, in a way, grown up with the festival. I arrive excited: Toots & The Maytals, Martha Wainwright, Toumani Diabaté, Babylon Circus, The Dub Pistols are just some of the acts to look forward to. I’m eady to shake off my desk job and run barefoot, but first, setting up camp. As if by magic the Larmer Express pulls up. Decorated with wreaths of cream silk and towed by a tractor, the carriage pulls up next to the car park, ready to pick up and drop us off wherever we feel like setting up home for the weekend. I feel a decadent couple of days coming on.

Tent erect, bed blown up and flask filled with gin and tonic, we wander over to the site. There’s no bag searching here, no intimidating security, just a relaxed and smiley crowd. First off we visit the Secret Garden; a tranquil space that's home to a selection of healers among the impressive arboretum of oaks and eucalyptus trees. Granted official Garden of National Importance status by the English Heritage, the area also houses small ornate Victorian buildings – perfect festival nooks and crannies to wonder through. It’s also here that we line our bellies with carrot cake from the charming Cafe Dish. The pace is slow and the site small enough to relax in without having to worry about rushing around to catch the bands. But this is about the music and, lest we forget, suddenly the manicured lawn has filled up and the legendary DJ Derek walks onto the Garden Stage.

How many of you can say you’ve watched a white, 68-year-old former accountant play old skool reggae on a Victorian open air theatre, complete with a painted backdrop based on a 17th century painting?

DJ Derek finishes and we wait for the epic Toots & The Maytals to come on. Skanking the crowd up into a frenzy, they're quite simply brilliant. The rain is holding off, despite the forecast, and we head over to The Social – the late night venue open until 4am. Unlike any social club I’ve ever seen, the two burnt orange teepees burst with spontaneous musicians playing accordions, guitars and violins, proving the Larmer Tree knows how to party.

The night turns fuzzy and I take myself off to bed. I’m still shaking off the fuzziness on Saturday afternoon when Toumani Diabaté starts playing. The stage’s first class acoustics serve to make Diabaté’s 21 string kora sound better than I’ve ever heard. He blissfully entrances the crowd and treats us to a duet with Samaba Touré, nephew to the other world music god, the late Ali Farka Touré. Afterwards we wander back to the tent but get sidetracked by Billy Vincent playing in the Big Top tent. They call it ‘Dirty Folk’; I call it Rinsing Rock. These guys can play – heady, heavy riffs led by a vocalist who could give Eddy Vedder a run for his money. I feel like a lovesick teenager watching them (later that night my sister meets and parties with the band). Far too quickly it’s Sunday night and I sit comfy with a bowl of veggie chilli from my favourite festival café, Pura Vida, preparing myself for Martha Wainwright.

I’ve only listened to a little of Martha Wainwright, but was enthralled by her father’s performance at Glastonbury this year and am eager to see if his daughter lives up to her heritage. She does. Performing a mix of original material and three Edith Piaf songs, her unique voice has a power and quality completely lost on her studio albums. At times almost operatic, her voice betrays her understated image; it's so much better than you could ever expect.

Very happy I wonder over to the Secret Garden, I’ve heard Lori Campbell is playing a secret gig there at midnight. To an audience of about thirty, on the ukulele, Lori sings and giggles through an impromptu set that takes in Beyoncé and Bob Dylan, as well as her own material about pigeons and such like.

Eclectic and heart warming, her soulful lilts and autobiographical honesty make us laugh out loud; she provides a fitting tribute to the festival itself.

Bexy