Festival No.6 2016: Review
In the trippy 1960s TV show The Prisoner, a mysterious giant white balloon called Rover was employed to ensure Patrick McGoohan’s titular character (No. 6) couldn’t escape the village (of Portmeiron). Many who tried to exit the Festival car park over the weekend had cause to believe that Rover might have been pressed back into service, such was the ordeal caused by the deluge of rain which had taken place over the previous couple of days. On the site itself, the morass got churned and churned to the point it really was an adventure taking even the shortest of trips.
Events suffered too, cancellations owing to high winds hitting a large chunk of Saturday’s schedule. Acts were moved from the main arena to smaller venues in the village itself, which proved too small to cater for the demand.
So, the organisers and patrons of Festival No. 6 (2016) got unlucky, which is a shame, because Festival No. 6 has lots going for it. Not least of these is the setting itself. The village, designed in the exaggerated style of an Italian village, quaint castles and plazas, is one of the most charming settings imaginable. Almost every building here has been turned into a stage for the weekend, housing everything from spoken word, cinema, comedy and of course, music.
Friday night’s atmosphere is friendly, anticipatory, as revellers adjust to their new surroundings. In the Central Piazza, The Brythoniaid Male Voice Choir aren’t likely to appear at too many other festivals, but appear here over the course of the weekend, getting a rousing reception for their versions of modern classics, with Blue Monday and You’ll Never Walk Alone getting particularly warm receptions.
The relaxed atmosphere is further enhanced by This Is The Kit, Kate Stables’ indie-folk act, whose melodic delivery casts a hypnotic spell, one which is continued by Gloucester four piece Hot Feet, whose bluesy country-folk sound veers between the quietly intricate, to raucous, foot stomping hoedown.
The folk pop theme has well and truly been established, and so it’s off to the Rum Tent for over two hours of a late night singalong with Fleetmac Wood, whose club mixes of tracks such as Go Your Own Way and Dreams (and yes, I was sceptical beforehand) prompt an outbreak of mass euphoria. The festival has truly kicked off.
For a while at least… a lot of that antediluvian elation gets washed away in the harsh reality of The Deluge, as folk struggle to get to grips (literally) with the new reality that is Saturday morning.
Roisin Murphy makes the best of it by absolutely owning the main stage, poking delightfully sardonic fun at the drenched crowd, archly posing with an umbrella while highlighting the often frazzling nature of her solo output (this is a very good thing). She finishes with crowd pleaser Bring it Back from the Moloko days, but in truth, had already put on one of the most enthusiastically received performances of the weekend.
A Certain Ratio’s resurgence continues apace. Energetic (and extremely friendly, met him in the car park) frontman Jez Kerr leads a packed Grand Pavilion a very merry funk pop dance befitting the 24 Hour Party People, which, if followed by the synth ’n' bass Kraut music of Klaus Johann Grove, leads to a satisfactory afternoon’s worth of live music.
Unfortunately, the high winds and rains have caused programme reshuffles, and ensure that the smaller venues in the village are consistently rammed, and reportedly excellent sets from Nadine Shah and Blossoms are regretfully missed (next time). The next couple of hours are spent at the beach, for cocktails, naturally, before returning to bear witness to the sprawling ensemble that is Broken Social Scene. The set focuses mostly on best known album, You Forgot it in People (personal disappointment, prefer Forgiveness Rock Record), but amidst the melee of percussion and horns is a beautifully packaged performance before Hot Chip prove themselves worthy festival headliners on the main stage, with a keen sense of just what’s required to get a whole throng moving in delirious unison.
The wooded forest festival, closed for business on Saturday, makes for a pleasant Sunday morning stroll, not least because of the floating disco in the woods, complete with mirrorball. Popping up around the site all weekend are Mr Wilson’s Second Liners, a Sgt Pepper's-meets-acid (wait, didn’t that happen the first time round) whose party piece is brassbanding 90s rave ‘classics’; this included ATB’s turgid 9pm, but they turned even that particular turd into a jaunty jamboree. Super Furry Animals make a triumphant return to home soil, a spectacular laser show complementing their instantly recognisable anthems such as Golden Retriever and The Man Don’t Give a Fuck, as well as a slightly rarer gem in Mountain People.
One of the more talked about curios in advance of the festival is Bowie Reimagined, featuring four female singers and the Manchester Camerata orchestra. All veer between faithful homage, and interesting (again, often in a good way, this really worked better than perhaps expected) interpretation of the great man’s music. Jacqui Abbot and Jane Weaver take on Changes and Moonage Daydream repectively, to excellent effect, whilst a barefoot Charlotte Church leads the crowd in a moving rendition of Starman. Most moving of all however, is the version of Lazarus, Bowie’s deathbed epic, by Nadine Shah, the orchestra also really coming into their own on this. The finale is a predictable relay rendition of Heroes, but this was a kind hearted gesture which could have gone wrong, instead proving quite poignant.