Pohoda 2015: The Review

Although opposing sides grapple on the subject of the Eurozone and the impending Greek austerity package; I am consistently seduced by the European project. The more I visit, work and interact with like-minded souls across the continent; I see the strength in union and am inspired by the sheer enthusiasm and open-mindedness on display. Despite obvious flaws and heavy-weight bureaucracy, I think the EU is working.

Known mainly for championing homegrown music, for which I’m incredibly proud, I do also like to look further afield. In order to gain perspective and not become too insular, it’s important to contrast and compare music from across the world. In recent years, I’ve attended a selection of music happenings throughout Europe such as Eurosonic, Reeperbahn, Transmusicales, Iceland Airwaves, By Larm, Paleo and Slottsfjell. I’m never less than impressed.

This July I attended the Pohoda Festival in Trencin, Slovakia, forsaking my annual trip to T in the Park for the first time since it began. I needed a change and I certainly got one. Central and Eastern European countries are now forging forward with a work ethic and a wide-eyed optimism that we in the UK could learn a thing or two from.

Pohoda (‘Good Feeling’ or ‘Contentment’) was set up in 1997 by musician and activist Michal Kascak, and has grown steadily ever since. It is now Slovakia’s biggest arts gathering and could be seen as the country’s equivalent to Glastonbury. With a burgeoning reputation, today the festival attracts approximately 30,000 visitors over three days, counting iconic names such as Portishead, Lou Reed, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, Atoms for Peace, MIA, Joan Baez, Pulp, Wu-Tang Clan and Pixies on its stage over the years.

Yet it has also kept its finger on the pulse with newer breakthrough acts across all genres, priding itself on a programme that dips into the realms of electronica, world music, theatre, cabaret, children’s activities and discussion panels in amongst the hipster heroes on the bill. This edition was no exception, with a stunning variety of music and art on offer.

Kascak himself is lead singer with art rock group Bez Ladu A Skladu (‘Higgledy-Piggledy’ or ‘Everything in Chaos’) whose music balances the oddball aesthetics of Talking Heads, B52’s and Devo with dissonant saxophone skronk and surrealist, anti-authoritarian lyrics. Having formed in 1985, they are an extremely important part of Slovakia’s pop culture and regarded as a group that played its own role in the fall of the iron curtain. It was fitting to see them take to the main (or ‘Bazant’) stage at the festival on Thursday evening in a rare live appearance. Playing an inventive, off-kilter set to a capacity crowd, they walked on to a film of their younger selves performing as teenagers; indeed, Kascak was only 13 when he began as vocalist. A crowd-pleaser for the Slovaks, this was a real eye-opener for me too.

With only three main arenas open on the first night, the ‘Bazant’ stage was headlined by the Global enigma that is Manu Chao. A perfect fit for Pohoda, he and his band take a passionate, inclusive stand on politics and culture, mixing French, Spanish, Portuguese and Arabic language with ska, pink, rockabilly, chanson and cumbia, which translates into a full-throttle party atmosphere. Playing for well over two hours, it was a triumphant start to the weekend.

Asked to talk in a seminar entitled ‘Will Slovakia find its Björk?’ on Friday afternoon, I was surprised the tent was packed full of inquisitive onlookers, concentrating on a thorough debate in a foreign language. This simply wouldn’t happen at a UK rock festival.

From there, I caught Manchester girl quintet PINS, whose C86, garage-punk influences housed a set full of addictive hooks and barbed-wire attitude under the beating sun. Finishing with a cover of the Misfits Hybrid Moments was inspired. In need of some brief respite, I sauntered over to see Ivory Coast reggae legend Tiken Jah Fakoly and the perfect roots soundtrack to sooth the soul.

Next stop was a main stage performance from FFS, the lauded collaboration between Franz Ferdinand and Sparks. Having missed them at the Glasgow School of Art recently, I revelled in their eccentric pop antics, blending back-catalogue with newly completed album tracks. On paper an odd concept, in reality it really works. I urge you to see them live before the project comes to its inevitable end.

German industrial pioneers Einstürzende Neubauten have been together for 35 years and I was apprehensive as to how they might work at a festival. Blixa Bargeld and company harnessed the bleak intensity of their recordings, with a craft and precision that completely connected. Even the band’s sense of humour occasionally crept out between songs.

South African subversives Die Antwoord certainly aren’t without a sense of humour and are rapidly becoming an internationally renowned freakshow, wallowing in the acclaim. Part bling hip-hop crew, stadium rave-pop outfit and corrupted porno cabaret; they drew a capacity crowd who lapped up their trashy, post-modern ‘zef’ stylings with tongues firmly placed in cheeks. Meanwhile, my own childhood hero Keith Morris, formerly of Black Flag and Circle Jerks, performed with hardcore punk supergroup OFF! Being the eternal teenager at heart, it didn’t take long for me to jump in the pit for a few breakneck numbers. Ouch.

Friday came to a close with a head-nodding set by LuckyMe beat-maker Hudson Mohawke, who wooed the amassed hordes in the ‘Space Arena’ with decks’n’effects, dub-plates, remixes and glitchy, synth-infused album bangers. Although both A-Trak and RL Grime were to follow, I had to hang up my rave trousers for the night.

Saturday saw another diverse selection of acts, almost tailor-made for the inquisitive. Israeli dream-pop ensemble Lola Marsh swept up an impassioned crowd with their melancholy anthems, whilst Syrian wedding singer turned club-maestro Omar Souleyman ensured hips were swinging and hands clapping ahead of a long night. Where else would you see that kind of combination back to back onstage?

The weekend’s main coup was snaring Icelandic icon Björk’s headline set, complete with full orchestra and enormous digital displays side of stage. It was a production perhaps best suited to a concert hall but the sheer scope and ambition transported the Bazant stage to the wounded heart of her new Vulnicura material. Underlining her enduring status as an extraordinary, uncompromising artist, it’s curious to see how popular she remains despite shirking away from playing the ‘hits’. Dressed in purple with white lace face-mask, she was somewhat distant and still emotionally raw.

Taking a detour to watch squat’n’roll wild-men Fat White Family, I was annoyed to miss a set cut short by the previous night’s hangover – disappointing to say the least. Rescued by the post-rock meets jazz onslaught of freeform Barcelona quartet Seward, my faith in humanity was restored by a genuinely original act on the ‘Europa’ stage.

Edinburgh’s Young Fathers are now a globe-trotting phenomenon with a series of excellent records and corresponding awards in tow. In front of an audience that must have numbered at least 5000, they took their spectacular but confrontational genre-bending mash-up of dub, soul, melody and rhythm to the devotional Slovak crowd. It was their third time in the country and it showed.

CocoRosie were my Saturday night headliners as the Casady sisters talking their bizarre nursery-rhyme, hip-hop-pop to new heights with clown costumes and live beat-boxing. Although highly unusual, their intimacy and warmth touched me and all those gathered. Only the warped electronica of Iceland’s Ghost Digital, featuring frontman Einar Örn of Sugarcubes onstage and previous band mate Björk in the crowd, could eclipse the previous show and bring my festival to a close.

With a temperature between 25 and 30 degrees and beer clocking in at 1.5 Euros a pint, you’d expect an expansive field of merrymakers to lose their senses and become a messy, drunken mob. Mercifully, that’s yet another comparison that cannot be drawn with the UK. I was reminded by how measured, sensible and in control the Slovaks are, without ever being boring. There was drinking, dancing and an electric vibe, without anyone disgracing themselves.

The site was also remarkable in itself. Set on Trencin airfield and surrounded by luscious hills and fields, it managed to host 8 official stages, NGO stands, food and merchandise stalls, chill-out zones and even paddling pools for those addled by the sun. Possibly most impressive of all however was the lack of rubbish on the ground all weekend – none. Efficient recycling and a sense of community self-esteem ensured that festival goers and litter pickers kept the place spotless.

An eclectic world class bill, friendly crowds, sunny weather, a glorious setting, cheap beer and tasty food; and Pohoda lived up to its reputation. I’d recommend it to anyone who feels they deserve something better from a summer festival.