Those who went to the second year of Sunday Best's festival baby the Bestival looking for a serious music focussed weekend will have been sorely disappointed; those who went looking for a fun-filled three day knees-up were sure as hell in the right place.
Although music festivals are supposedly an enjoyable summer frolic, never have I truly relaxed at a festival until I had attended Bestival. There's no rushing from stage to stage in a vain attempt to avoid programme clashes and cram in as many bands as possible, all whilst battling the residue of the previous days toxin intake. Some might say this is due to the lack of big names or the relatively sparse choice, however, there is far more to occupy you at this gathering than first meets the eye, meaning that the day's fun doesn't grind to a halt at 11:30pm leaving little else to do bar burning things/knocking things over/pulling things down or retiring quietly to your brand new tent (naming no festival names). This festival isn't all about the music; it's all about the fun and if you accept that then you're bound to have a good ol' time.
Being a festival, obviously there is a fair amount of music, but not necessarily acts that you would otherwise make a point of witnessing live (or recorded for that matter). For example Piney Gir's Country Roadshow; half country, half electro- and why the hell not? Perhaps classical cello is more your cup of tea. No problem. Take a stroll up to the bandstand and if you're lucky you might just catch the end of the Morris dancing. While you're there, get a cup of said tea from the Isle of Wight Women's Institute tent. Champagne and sushi also available. Headliner-wise, the Magic Numbers provided a popular and current opening night set which saw them recreate their recorded sound note for note. Not exactly innovative, but a sure-fire success. 2manyDJs provided a Saturday night party atmosphere which almost redeemed their earlier appearance as Soulwax, but not the Soulwax of yore that loyal fans knew and loved. What's the point in having a clear division between your band and your highly paid DJ antics when all the band essentially does now is DJ their own music? Moving on before full rant mode is reached, Supper Furry Animals could not be faulted on their closing set, reaching out to fans of pop, indie and dance alike.
The main reason that this festival can't be all about the music is the scheduling and running times: a well oiled machine it was not. Particularly on the Sunday, the times you had on your laminate did not coincide in any which way with the times the acts actually appeared on stage. I'm sure many festival goers missed performances due to this annoyance, which included the main stage running nearly 2 hours ahead at one point with several acts switched around. This was most confusing and very poorly publicised on a small piece of paper outside the welfare tent, which I personally walked past approximately eight times before a man in the chip queue kindly pointed out to me that the running times had gone out the window.
But who needs to see live music when there's so much else on offer: sipping cocktails at the Bollywood bar, tequila shooters and card playing in the Weird West tent, drumming in the never ending drum circle, smoking middle-east stylee in the Shisha tent, dancing in the Miniscule of Sound (the smallest nightclub in the world) or dressing up in your finest cowboy/Indian outfit for the Saturday evening fancy dress party which is set to enter the Guinness Book of World Records as the biggest fancy dress party ever. Bestival has the added entertainment element of Glastonbury that you don't get the chance to fully enjoy because there are too many bands to see.
The best thing about this festival, however, has to be the lack of corporate sponsorship and you know what that means…NO CARLING! Oh sweet relief. The Bestival is a very macrobiotic affair with an emphasis on local products and people, which can only be a good thing when you impose a three day festival on a relatively small community. A very enjoyable and wholesome affair.

Potent. The Duke Spirit were potent. I've seen them 3 times before, and this, bar the first time when I was just discovering them was the most intense. It sounds like sex. It's music.

Vibrations from the thumping chugging bass, the lit exteriorised view from my heart head and soul, the belligerent and grating guitar along with some hefty boom from an ill Olly - the band's drummer- the at times lingeringly plaintive at times righteously ignited vocals.

The sheer brimming sensation which seems to be electrifying and creating a frontal spine of sizzle and verve in my body hasn't departed. Hopefully it won't.
            
Go and see the band - arbitrarily categorised minus subjective input, their sounds are a melding of blues, a bit of psychedelia, rock and coursing soul.
It's the culmination-driven beat and groove which spiritualises (look at that, an unintentional pun) their noise that is possessing. The relationship between instruments, and understanding the song's structure - something which sounds ironically callous in creative formulation, offers an earthy and pulsating warmth to the product; the ability to manoeuvre melodically within a rearing and returning foundation. It's the contrast factor. And they do it well.

             iForward Russia! deserve a mention (or maybe even a paragraph if they're lucky) too - the drummer almost didn't get let in, but working against bouncer-based ignorance, did  manage to infiltrate the venue in which she was booked to play. This was fortunate, as the band delivered a superlative-deserving zig zag of split and frenetic rhythm, jagged guitars and some good impromptu high hat fills from said fugitive percussionist. Their performance was raw - the Dukes it seemed had a more honed sound - in my view a more effective sound, but the bands were different.

             Now there's a smudged splurge of an octopus leg giving birth to a military gun on my veined hand, (that's the venue access stamp) and I have a back stab. Doesn't matter though. I also smell. Of sweat, but mainly of someone pretty addicted to a strident, cacophonous, oozing (with what they have to give) band whose sound can and could infuse you, as Liela would say in Lion RIP, if you wanted

I've been at the Barfly for 5 minutes and I already feel as if I'm sticking out like a sore thumb. I am surrounded by numerous youths in Atticus t-shirts and pierced lips. But no matter, Motion City Soundtrack are the one band that have stuck with me for the past 2 years, through my transition from emo/pop-punk-rock kid to indie kid.

Northern Ireland's local rock outfit, The Answer took to the stage at The Spring and Airbrake on Friday Night and gave us the perfect start to the weekend.