overview

This was our second time at Larmer Tree. We enjoyed it in 2005, having decided to go because it was less than an hour up the road and we couldn’t think of a good reason not to. Mild curiosity was turned into a memorable weekend by two of the best festival performances I saw last year: the Bees and the Cat Empire.

So, this year we took less persuading to make the trip from the Dorset coast 45 minutes north to Cranbourne Chase on the Dorset/Wiltshire border and the tiny village of Tollard Royal (not far from Madonna’s country pile, as it happens). The festival itself takes place in the delightful Larmer Tree gardens: an extraordinary example of Victorian extravagance, with ornate buildings, majestic trees and intimate arbours. And peacocks, which keep a keen eye on the weekend’s proceedings from various rooftops and punctuate every moment of silence with their distinctive cries (imagine a cat having its tenderest bits slammed in a car door and you’re close).

This fantastic site plays host to a small, but hugely varied, intimate and friendly festival. Three stages provide the music: the main lawn stage (and the smaller Garden Stage which plays in the same space); the ARC stage; and a big top stage. In addition, Club Larmer provides after hours beats and grooves. Scattered throughout the trees and pathways are the kind of alternative therapies you would expect to find and brilliant facilities for kids – many many practical workshopy type things, culminating in a carnival procession on the Sunday. The site is rounded off with a relatively small but good quality selection of food stalls (barely a chip in sight) and some decent beer (Badgers, a fine Dorset brew).

Now, I’ve heard it said that this great site attracts a resolutely middle class crowd. The truth is that Larmer Tree probably isn’t for you if you want an all night session gurning so hard that your gums are bleeding by the time the sun comes up. But if you want a relaxing, properly chilled and friendly atmosphere, in incomparable surroundings, then it probably is your thing. Plus, if you’ve got kids I cannot think of a better festival for them (although I have got a hopeless blind spot for what amuses the ankle biters – they don’t on the whole drink beer or engage in drunken debates about whether chocolate should count as a vegetable because it’s made from beans).

Oh, and there’s music too. And that really is the strongest card in Larmer Tree’s hand. Not only do they do the relaxed and chilled out vibe bit par excellence, you also get to experience some of the best, most interesting and diverse musical offerings on the festival circuit.

This year’s festival was a properly four-day event, starting on the Thursday afternoon. Unfortunately, we were not able to arrive until midday on Friday and we missed Jools Holland (between you and me, not the greatest loss I have ever suffered).

Friday more than made up for the fact that our festival would be a day shorter. And the weather gods smiled big beamy smiles on us. Friday was hot, with a bit of a breeze. Saturday was hotter, but kept the breeze. Sunday was like the final level of Dante’s inferno. I can’t remember, in 20 years of festivals, a hotter festival day. At one point on Saturday afternoon, I swear that I saw Omar Sherif on horseback approaching us out of the heat haze, in a perfect recreation of the famous scene from Lawrence of Arabia.

In the circumstances, my special award for entertainment under the most adverse conditions goes to the Dukes Box – three blokes performing as a human juke box in a converted 50s caravan. On Friday, we heard Heart of Glass as it would have sounded it Blondie had been a country and western band. Saturday saw the boys perform in skin tight body suits and crash helmets. Sunday’s finale was a skiffle version of I See You Baby, performed with cardboard boxes on their heads. And who said the age of surrealism was dead?

Musically, what you get at Larmer is product of an eclectic choice of artists, but put together with quality first, and a small site. This means you can wander at will and catch plenty of pleasant surprises.

First pleasant surprise on Friday was the Martin Harley Band on the garden stage. A fairly stripped-down trio of slide guitar, double bass and very basic drum kit produced a superb fusion of old school blues and pared to the bone rock. The next highlight, on the main lawn stage, was This is Seb Clarke. I first caught Seb at Larmer Tree last year, when they did a storming set in the big top. I caught them again at Wychwood in June, but their set at Larmer Tree this year was outstanding. If you haven’t caught Seb yet, think early Dexy’s Midnight Runners – the Searching for the Young Soul Rebels massed horns stuff – crossed with the urgency of London Calling era Clash. This is loud, energetic, raw soul and R and B, and if you can’t dance to it, well you can’t dance.

But the absolute treasure of Larmer Tree 2006 was still to come. Suffering from sun and cider induced lethargy, we decided hang around on the main lawn and see who this Son of Dave bloke was. Well, what can I say? If you haven’t seen or heard Son of Dave, do something about it immediately. Benjamin Darvill (as his mum knows him) used to be in the Crash Test Dummies. But don’t let that put you off, because his Son of Dave stuff is off another planet completely. Imagine Tom Waits as a one-man-band jamming with Beck and the ghost of John Lee Hooker somewhere in the Louisiana swamps. Son of Dave is a one-man-band, but he uses just a harmonica, a couple of shakers and his own percussive grunts, stamps and human beatbox effects, which he samples and loops as he plays. Songs are built up from successive loops of harmonica riffs, stamps, grunts and assorted oddness. The result is a dirty, swamp blues with beats. His re-working of War’s Lowrider as a low-slung swamp blues groove is a masterpiece. Buy Son of Dave’s album and see him live. I promise you wont be disappointed. (He was so good, we saw him again on Saturday, when he wore a fetching blue silk housecoat, as you do).

Friday on the main lawn stage was rounded off by Dreadzone, who put in the best performance I have seen from them for some time. Friday’s live music for us was rounded off by the Larry Love Show Band who were, frankly, disappointing. I love Alabama 3, but their brand of sweet pretty country acid house music, without the acid house, is, well, just country music. And not very sweet or pretty at that.

Saturday dawned. In the immortal words of Mr Python it was hot enough to boil a monkey’s bum. Saturday’s pleasant musical surprises included the massively entertaining Aussie blues singer Stringybark McDowell (I kid you not, but one look at him is enough to convince you that giggling at his name is likely to result in a swift visit to A & E). I enjoyed his earthy blues, accompanied by a single kick drum (named duff-duff) and a cymbal. The highlight of his set was the inspired Kylie Minogue’s Going to Have My Children (Whether She Wants to or Not).

Holly Golightly on the main lawn stage did an enjoyable set of back to basic pre-electric blues, folk and soul. Jack White likes her music. You can see why. She was followed by Jazz Jamaica’s reworking of old Motown classics in a jazzy reggae style. Not inspiring, but a pleasant accompaniment to a beautiful sunset.

But by far the high point on Saturday were Subgiant. I’ve seen these guys a few times now, and they’ve been good, but on Saturday night they were immense. Out of somewhere they managed to conjure dirty propulsive rhythms that Underworld at their best would have died for. They chain these massive rhythms to a set of decks, live drumming and bass apparently played by Lemmy in dub. An awesome set.

By Sunday, the weather had got fed up with simply being hot and turned it up a further notch. The mercury reached something like 32 degrees and it was all we could do to ask, through parched and cracked lips, for more cider. The boys in the Dukes Box kept at it and the ever present St Joan's Ambulance reminded us of the nature of difference: "You say labia, I say laybia, let’s call the whole thing muff."

Sunday’s highlights were Betika, very listenable acoustic lo-fi pop. The Be Good Tanyas offered their unique brand of rustic, gothic bluegrass. And the day was rounded off in inimitable style by the God-like genius who is DJ Derek, Bristol’s finest ex-accountant reggae DJ.

So, is Larmer Tree sage and middle class? Well, yes it probably is. It’s certainly the only festival where I’ve sat next to people having an earnest conversation about the long term side effects of organophosphate pesticides. The best I can usually manage is an earnest debate about whether a pint of cider counts as one of your daily 5 portions of fruit. But does being middle class make Larmer Tree bad? On that point, I can absolutely certain. The answer is an unequivocal no. Larmer Tree is a perfect festival. Small, friendly, relaxed. It is perfect for children and attracts a wide range of punters. And the organisers have the apparent ability to control the weather. We will go back next year and will urge our friends to do the same, but there’s really no need. The festival will sell out because everyone who goes seems to go again. And again. We will and so should you.

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