Body & Soul Festival 2014

It bills itself as a more holistic offering than your average jaunt in a field, but that term doesn’t do Body & Soul justice. ‘Holistic’ conjures imagery of esoteric nonsense – crystal healing and mystical eyebrow scrunching; Aquarian Age drivel, when man, beast and pot-plant coexist in some kaleidoscopic cornucopia. Sounds shite, eh?

We’re pleased to report that Body & Soul was much, much more fun than that. The setting for the festival was superb: among the sprawling, mazy grounds of Ballinlough Castle; stages and tents hidden amid the woods; swings and boats (couldn’t see any roundabouts), gazebos and alcoves all crawling with tie-dye swaddled merrymakers.

This was also one of the friendliest festivals these well-worn wellies have trod across. People were genuinely amicable and hospitable – that applies to those attending for work and for pleasure. It was a challenge to count to 50 without being caught up in a conga line, or hearing some half-baked tale from a fully-baked reveller about, say, how they’d been stalking Irish glitch-popper David Kitt about the festival for the past three hours.

So hats off to Body & Soul: before a note was played you had people dancing in the meadows. This is a festival that comes fully recommended: get there before it explodes.

Friday

Friday’s bill was skeletal. While people were still building their wigwams high towards the searing Westmeath sun, we managed to catch a smidgen of Darkside, the aptly-named vehicle for Chilean wunderkind Nicolas Jaar’s moodiest moments.

Those coming expecting the thunderous grooves of Space is Only Noise may have been disappointed. But those lain out on the grassy knoll facing the main stage, knackered having spent all day trying to get here seemed to appreciate his lethargic stylings. The main hangover from Jaar’s solo output is the slightly creepy, menacing nature of the sound and even as you find yourself toe-tapping along, it’s hard to shake the chill moving through your spine.

A thumping late night DJ set from the dignitary of the Irish music scene that is Donal Dineen added a bit of oomph to the evening’s proceedings, but Friday was really about exploring the scene… getting lost between the dangling trinkets of the walled gardens and, sipping an abnormally well-chilled festival pint while catching some comedy out the corner of your ear.

Saturday                                                                                                                 

The sun came back for seconds on Saturday, drawn sadistically to the bounty of near-translucent Irish skin. And the distinctly un-Celtic sounds of Booka Brass Band took advantage in fine style. They brought a touch of the Deep South to Central Ireland, their bouncy, Afrobeat-backed jazz pairing Tremé with Beyonce. The highlight of the set was an electrifying rendition of that sleekest of R&B classics, No Diggity. 

Tom Vek spoke beforehand about his excitement at playing songs from excellent new record, Luck, in front of a festival crowd. And while the new material was well-received, the loudest cheers were reserved for some of his older (dare we say “classic”?) tracks. The James Murphy-esque Nothing But Green Lights and C-C (You Set Me Free) from his stellar 2005 debut set We Have Sound ensured that those who had risen for Booka Brass Band stayed on their feet, inspired by the relish with which Vek performs, bobbing along stage centre as if powered by lithium batteries.

Jape was a late edition to the bill, but given their popularity in Ireland, it was unsurprising to see a hefty crowd gathered for his show. Frontman Richie Egan has been exiled in Stockholm of late and has returned with ideas which, while not a million miles away from the electro-rock that has served him so well, sound suitably fresh. It’s hard to believe it’s been 10 years since Jape’s career-defining Floating, and the crowd erupts as the first flickers of its synth riff appear, minutes before it drops in earnest. It’s good to have them back.

He’s not the sunniest of characters and his residence in Iceland might lead one to believe that these scorching climes don’t agree with John Grant. But he is in cheery form as he takes to the stage, with the sun scuttling eastward in the sky. His set picks from his two records, with the crowd shouting back the words of Marz and Sigourney Weaver and swaying, arm-in-arm as he’s joined on stage by Villagers frontman Conor O’Brien for a Sinead O’Connor aping cameo on the gorgeous Glacier. Grant’s set promised to be one of the weekend’s highlights, and he didn’t disappoint.

We’ll lump two of the only (slight) disappointments of the weekend in together. Much was expected of both The Field and Mount Kimbie. The former’s set suffers at the hands of technical problems and when it does get going, does so very slowly. This is not news to anyone who’s listened to Axel Willner’s sublime sounds pressed to vinyl, but there’s a sense that the crowd, who have perhaps been spoiled by what preceded it, don’t dig what the Swede brings to the party.

The same could be said for Mount Kimbie, the pair can be absolutely bewitching when seen in the right environs. Mount Kimbie’s sound is complex and incrimental and requires patience from the listener – a virtue not knowingly associated with late night festival crowds. There’s plenty of build in the Midnight Circus, but – without meaning to sound like one of Skrillex’s online crew – not the payoff you might have hoped for. It’s interesting, sure, but not as captivating as we’ve come to expect.

When the festival schedule emerged last week, the sight of a Jon Hopkins set at 1am on the Sunday morning inspired sharp intakes of breath all round. Once known for his production credits, Hopkins has been carving out a name as a party starter in his own right ever since he started touring last year’s superb Immunity. The tent is heaving by the time he takes up position in front of a bamboozling collection of musical mod-cons. Those gathered are treated to a disheveled selection of highlights from his magnum opus, as Hopkins tears the Midnight Circus a new one. The excellent Collider glowers in the live arena, Hopkins hammering out beats on Kaos Pads – he’s a treat to watch as well as to hear. Open Eye Signal and We Disappear were always going to be spectacular and they positively pulsate. As he leaves the stage, Hopkins is visibly humbled by the reception: a fantastic way to round off the day. 

Sunday

The wee hours were divided between the traditional Irish music tent and the Mother DJs’ takeover of the Reckless In Love stage. The Kerry Polka and Toto’s Africa make for interesting bedfellows and the combo is hard to chase from the psyche as Sunday arrives to find us bleary of eye and pink of skin. The continuing fine weather makes it easier to get out of the sleeping bag, as we set up camp at the main stage for a couple of hours. 

The Dublin Afrobeat Ensemble perform pretty much the same service as the Booka Brass Band the day before: a shot in the arm for hungover heads. Fourteen musicians emanating from Brazil, Italy, Cameroon, Armenia, Cuba and more, there’s is a vibrant performance that draws a wayward line between Fela Kuti and Parliament. 

The brilliant King Kong Company follow them on stage and set about providing some of the moments of the festival. The music fuses disco, funk and reggae, but the real takeaway is the visual element provided by the band’s dancer, who goes through a host of costume changes, each one more hilarious than the last. All eyes are on her, as she goes from Crash Test Dummy to cardboard box head, to penguin suit. Along with the aforementioned Dublin Afrobeat Ensemble, they bring a serious feelgood factor to Sunday afternoon, inspiring conga lines and dance routines across the hill. 

The September Girls are faced with the unenviable task of trying to continue the momentum, but sadly can’t manage to do so. One of the most notable trends of the weekend is the sheer volume of 90s revivalists in attendance: purple-lipped girls taking off L7 were 10-a-penny. And there is something of the LA grungers about these all-female power poppers’ sound too, but they don’t offer anything here that would rival Pretend We’re Dead. The crowd thins as their set gets going: they simply don’t have the pizzazz of those that went before, perhapas a victim of scheduling more than anything else. 

East India Youth has been one of the most talked about new acts of the year and Total Strife Forever has been one of 2014’s most exciting debut albums. William Doyle’s five o’clock set is a big draw, but surely much of the fascination is with how he’ll bring his cerebral electronic pop to such a large arena. Very well, is the short answer. Doyle is possibly the most elegantly dressed man in Ballinlough, and the elegance assimilates into the performance too. Total Strife Forever, over 11 tracks, manages to sound spiritual and morose, penetrative and uplifting. It’s a pleasure to hear these attributes applied in abundance in the Midnight Circus. He’s spoken in the past about pop music as a means of escapism, and listening to the gorgeous Dripping Down in a field in Westmeath, you could be anywhere in the world. 

James Holden’s set was another that was hotly anticipated, but was scuppered after his airline lost his synthesizer, resulting in his withdrawal from the festival. There were some confused heads in the Midnight Circus at about half nine, then: “Isn’t this a bit heavy for James?” asked on reveller. Well, yes it was. For Berlin techno whiz Alle Farben, though, it’s par for the course. At the fag-end of the three-dayer, most of those in the tent were on autopilot. Farben’s set, helpfully, was absolutely hypnotic and required very little effort. As per his superb single She Moves from earlier this year, despite the thumpiness of Farben’s set, the underlying melody is never far from the surface. While it would have been nice to hear Holden’s The Inheritors, Farben filled in admirably. 

Caribou drew the biggest crowd of the weekend for the grand finale on the Body & Soul stage. Snaith and crew are decked out all in white, adding an air of righteousness to the occasion. And thankfully, the performance was appropriately divine. There was a real sense of consummation: that the whole weekend, fantastic as it was, had been building up to this performance. Swim is one of the finest records of recent years, and as Odessa and Sun rung out into the night, a wave of goosebumps spread across the hill, people throwing their hands in the air in pure affirmation. 

This was a fine weekend, one that will live long in the memory. Body & Soul has come a long way in five years and this writer for one is excited to see how it evolves in the years to come.