Wickerman Festival 2015 – The World / Jazz View!

Hi, Harry Thomson here – I was allowed out of the World and Jazz ghettos this weekend to visit the Wickerman Festival at Dundrennan.  This was my fifteenth Wickerman and I’m pleased to report that it was as big and breezy as ever, with local and international acts, solo artistes and big bands, punk, reggae, African music, jazz – you name it, Wickerman has it!

It was, of course, an event tinged with sadness, following the tragic death of Jamie Gilroy during the winter, and I must admit to a moment or two on entering the site when I kept seeing guys in waistcoats.  These were being worn as a tribute to Jamie, who famously wore a bright and increasingly tattered broad check waistcoat, and it was great to see so many.  Mine was waiting for me on the doormat when I got home…!

There had been a change in management over the winter as well, and this was evident from a change in some of the stages, with a new Phoenix Tent showcasing the best of Scottish talent.  The number of dance tents had reduced as well, though I’m afraid my ageing legs only graced the remaining dance area once.  All the other old favourites including the Acoustic Village, Scooter Tent, Solus Tent and Summerisle Stage were present, correct and performing their various functions admirably!

My first business was to perform with my old sparring partner from The Razorbills, Richard Ipaint.  My partner Rebecca Redden, who is also now taking on much of the drumming duties with The Razorbills, is drumming for Richard while I play bass in his Lounge Punk Blues outfit.  Richard’s fuzz-box driven ukulele style has to be seen and heard to be believed, and his songs are, as might be expected, 2-3 minute gems of minimalist magic.  We played the Acoustic Stage early on Friday afternoon, and had a fair audience and a very positive reception, so hopefully there will be more of this to come.

Thereafter, it was almost audience all the way!  Friday did take a while to get going for me.  I took in Alan McClure’s set at the Acoustic Village later in the afternoon, and his engaging way with the audience, and passionate delivery of songs with real messages, had those in the tent rapt all the way through.  Later, we wandered down to the Summerisle Stage for a listen to Lulu’s set.  The Glaswegian veteran was in fine voice, and from where I stood seemed in equally fine fettle, commanding the stage as if she had been performing at festivals in coldish windy fields all her career.  I listened to her version of “The Man Who Sold the World” nostalgically and then headed up the hill to catch the Cleveland, Ohio legends, who are Pere Ubu in all their glory.  The Scooter Tent was less than a third full, which was a bit of a shame, but Pere Ubu have never troubled the charts, and everyone who had gone to see them stayed and enjoyed!  Angular, danceable but truly cerebral music, David Thomas and company incorporated clarinet, theramin and story-telling in a wonderful hour of bewitchment.

Sadly that meant I did not get to see the tremendous Icelandic singer Olaf Arnulds in the Phoenix Tent, but I DID get to see the terrific Tal National from Niger on the Summerisle Stage on Saturday afternoon.  This tremendous band from the southern reaches of the Sahara brought wonderfully infectious rhythms, great musicianship and long and winding grooves to the an afternoon bathed in sunshine (and even some warmth!) to the festival, and truly opened it up for me. 

Earlier we had also taken in a set from Steve Ignorant (ex of the anarchist punk outfit Crass) in the Scooter Tent.  Quite different from the sound of this seminal band, Steve’s new group Slice of Life, backed him up admirably through a set of angry yet humorous observations on life in modern Britain, sometimes spoken sometimes sung, and enhanced by hand-movements and facial expressions which reinforced every emotion.  Even more remarkable, they had survived a car smash on the M6 en route to Wickerman! I will hopefully put up an interview with Steve in the next week or so. 

We had also sat in for a session with friends in the Barabajagel Yurt, and been encouraged in some African dancing by the knowledgeable and very persuasive Denise Brownlee!

Barabajagel is one of three venues in the Acoustic Village, which is locally run by husband and wife team, and stalwarts of the local music scene, Nicola and Andrew Black.  As Peter Bestel has noted elsewhere: “It’s a little disappointing that the venue doesn’t get more coverage.  Year on year Nicola and the team do a marvellous job of getting an awesome line up over the two days and this year was no exception.  The atmosphere is always so good, so friendly and is many folks’ go-to place to see a decent act and have a chill. That’s not to say that every act is an “acoustic”, singer-songwriter type, far from it. We caught some bands that really rocked the place and got folk dancing and laughing.  The Acoustic village is a festival in its own right and it’s the venues (the main acoustic and the Ingrid Pitt) that lots of folk use as a base, nipping out to catch the odd main stage act, favourite punkesque gig at the Scooter or the band you’ve been hearing about at the new Phoenix Tent… but always going back home to Nicola’s place.”  I might add that the Acoustic Village has also encouraged a lot of local musicians to have a go, and it’s noticeable now that a younger generation is also getting a look in with Dalbeattie’s Jordan Murray opening up proceedings on Friday with a large crowd.  And of course Zoe Bestel played on the Friday evening, to a capacity crowd in the main Acoustic tent, captivating the audience and apparently settling a marital dispute in the front-rown into the bargain.  Is there no end to her powers??!

We had a laugh at John Cooper Clarke, the legendary punk poet, amazingly playing his first Wickerman, and later  danced again and again to Jimmy Cliff.  Capturing the Summerisle Stage in a huge cheery reggae embrace, Jimmy and the band romped through his hits from The Harder They Come to Wonderful World, Beautiful People in a set which had the whole field bounning up and down gleefully.  We then ran up the hill and back to the Scooter Tent to pogo away furiously to Hector Bizerk.   With Stanley Odd, one of the foremost Scottish Hip-Hop acts, the 5-piece from Glasgow had a rammed Scooter Tent bulging in all directions, with bodies flying to their pounding rhythms and intricate wordplay.  Hector Bizerk had last year closed the much smaller Solus Tent, so it was a testament to how far they have come that they did so well in what is effectively the Wickerman’s second stage.  

Unfortunately, the need for a wee sit-down afterwards meant that I completely forgot Aidan Moffat and Bill Wells were playing in the Phoenix Tent, so I just about caught the last three chords of their set.  I am assured by Mark Thomson, who was there, that it was very assured and accomplished, as it should be.

And finally … an awesome set from The Sonics in the Scooter Tent.  This group, which began life in Tacoma, Washington in the early 60s, was a great example of the power of rock music.  Five 70(ish) year old men having a ball playing raucous 3-chord songs VERY VERY loudly!  They played for over an hour, and I was so enthralled, I again missed one  of the bands I had planned to see.  By the time I stumbled sweating from the Scooter Tent, the Solus was disgorging the OUTBLINKER crowd.  I was quite dismayed to hear someone saying “That was like seeing Hawkwind”, given that this is my favourite act in the universe by some distance.  never mind, I am sure I will catch Outblinker again at some point, and in the meantime, I’d have to say The Sonics was a real privelege.  Thank you, Wickerman!

An impressive burning of Trevor Leat’s latest Wicker creation, followed by a hugely impressive fireworks display, and so to bed….

A tremendous Saturday all in all. 

Brief glimpses were also had of The Waterboys (too tired), Squeeze (too hungry), Miaoux Miaoux, Boss Hogg and a few others, but I’m pleased to say that i stuck around for the whole set of most of those I saw.  That’s a sign of a good act at a festival.

Wickerman is probably at another crossroads.  There was a noticeable reduction in numbers this year (though this was also seen at other festivals), and whilst there were some gaps in added enhancements with only one piece of noticeable “street theatre”, what seemed to be less trade pitches and (again) no reggae tent, there was plenty to keep this particular camper satisfied for most of the weekend.  It would have been understandable if the Gilroy family had called it a day after everything they’ve gone through.  Patsy seemed happy with the way things were going when I spoke to her briefly during Jimmy Cliff’s set, and there is still a huge amount of goodwill for the festival around.  Some may carp, and whilst I have no wish to see Tom Odell, others (younger perhaps…) obviously did, and I was admirably occupied in the Scooter Tent for the latter part of Saturday.

I am sure Jamie Gilroy, if he could have witnessed the weekend, would have had a satisfied smile on his face as the last fireworks came to earth.  I certainly did.