Alchemy's last day shows promise that can only blossom further next year

As the baking September sun put sunblock at a premium, I went a-wandering around the relatively huge site to attempt to work out what musical delights could be found emanating. It turned out to be the day when anyone who's anyone played a second set, suggesting one too many pull-outs for comfort. Fortunately most of the acts still present were worth the attention.

Merlin's Keep were a case in point. They got the Stage Bus interest started in the midday sun, all fiddles, acoustic guitar and stompy boot. They came into their own playing covers such as 'Rockin' in the Free World', 'One Way of Life', 'Irish Rover' and 'Fisherman's Blues', for group singalongs are an essential festival experience in my opinion. I'm told they later perfected the trick over sundown at the bar.

Mike Dawes & Amy Turk I spotted playing at least twice at that bar's stage. Hard not to miss a huge harp in fairness, and the music was in parts both dreamy and tuney. Winter Wilson were to my ears standard male/female acoustica, but I'm told by others that they were well worth it. I also caught a fair bit of The Mosaics densely-filled indie-rock there. Think somewhere between Doves and Thirteen Senses and you see where they were aspiring to and reasonably reached. Plus I swear they had Neil Hannon on drums.

Back over at the Stage Bus there was Scarlett in the Mist, a triad of burlesquely-dressed youngsters who explained that they're missing key members. They played slightly-awkward and frenetic fiddly-folk that ultimately reminded me of The Glitzy Baghags in their polka-y pomp. Then whilst waiting for an order of home-cooked chips, we caught AJ entertaining many kids and a few random adults who'd not moved from the main stage. And AJ did it well, with little ones seeming to hang on his every squeaky word, and bigger ones like me hoping he wouldn't chose me for everyone to run to next.

There was yet more main stage mayhem to be had by daylight! Skiprat played well-honed punk tunes and covers, 'New Rose' being particularly memorable. Then it was Loveboy playing laid-back beaty reggae which would've been perfect for dozing in the sun had it not been for me being too busy grooving.

Now Sunday by darkness, and it was a case of working out what's available when and where. In one corner there was Sambalada playing sardines on the Stage Bus. At only twelve strong they've a long way to go to become the behemoth that is Carnival Collective. But they did produce a phenomenal percussive noise that was distinctly for sunshine in my opinion but many a punter seemed more than happy to have them right now. And if you didn't care for their incessant drumming, you could pontificate on which band member was eyeing up which other member, such were the looks on certain faces. Or on which of them was distinctly up for it and which would rather have stayed in bed.

Over at the Psychedelic Breakfast Crew's colourful tent there was the much-heralded Kickflip DJ playing to clearly not enough people but ideal for those that like expressive and lolloping dance moves. I heard some off-cuts of Technotronic being dropped within a meaty set, but didn't stay around long enough to hear his much feted version of Swamp Thing. But then I probably wouldn't have recognized it either.

Back over at the Dance tent, there was some thudding bass tunes courtesy of Lorraine DJ pleasantly pulverizing the ears of a gradually growing crowd. This I most certainly did shake a tailfeather to, and it all passed by too quickly before a sudden halt to let Tarantism set up their soundsystem set. It looked like that meant all of Tarantism plus electronic beats and a well-crafted video. The tent was nicely full by the time they got going, we're told it's their first time performing like this, possibly for a new album, and it all worked nicely enough to hold the interest of the many.

However Paul Didge and friend were now playing the main stage. I was told on arrival, by some beseated friends, that it's a nicely chilled set. I begged to differ and joined the bouncing few who maybe were synchronising more with the beatbox and the Irish-jig flute interludes than the soothing, pulsing didge. All too soon that was over but the flutist proceeded to hand out CDs that I've since found are crackingly diverse.

And with that it was back to camp, to out-muscle friends and randoms for a prime spot in front of a campfire in what turned out to be the coldest night of the millennium. In a field. There was apparently a campfire set with Tarantism somewhere after midnight, and the Breakfast Crew tent was doubtless knocking out tunes quietly until the early hours, but the first Alchemy Festival was gradually coming to a close. I was hard pushed to find anyone who didn't really enjoy themselves, and there was much heartfelt appreciation to the organizers for their efforts. Maybe it wasn't quite a gold-mine of a debut but there were plenty of nuggets, and it's a festival that can only blossom further next year.

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