As festivals go, the local-council administered Cambridge folk festival is distinctly unscuzzy. No drunken brawls, no urine-filled bottles wars, no ski-masked drug dealers and no overflowing toilets. Instead, there is the opportunity to receive a free head massage ("Ecstasy! The orgasmic experience! Sends shivers up the spine!"), well-stocked and staffed bars and regularly cleaned toilets. No wonder the older hands bring their own chairs.
It's not perfect. The tiny, overflowing site is on the claustrophobic side of cramped and such are its logistics that only a small proportion of those paying £56 for a weekend ticket had the opportunity to see music at any given time. Were it to rain, there would be no escape; as it happened Saturday's weather was positively Caribbean.
Of the music, Saturday's line-up was hardly the most glittering of the festival's 37 years, even before John Prine broke his elbow. He was replaced by Loudon Wainwright III, who began effervescently, mixing caustic observation ("The lying tradition - that's what folk is all about") with engaging whimsy ("Went to my 35th school reunion: really shocked to see all these old guys there"). But Wainwright soon slipped into an endless procession of mawkish songs about his father. Even headliner Richard Thompson's assistance on Leiber and Stoller's Smoky Joe's Cafe and Marty Robbins's At the End of a Long Lonely Day, plus a cheery farewell of "I'm John Prine, good night!" did not dispel the air of missed opportunity.
Across the three stages, despite the dreary blues by rote of the North Mississippi Allstars, the discomfort of Kathryn Williams and the self-importance of Show of Hands, who insisted the audience sat down, there were successes aplenty. Slaid Cleaves has a winning way with good-natured country and his unamplified finale was the day's bravest moment. Bill Jones built a lovely atmosphere in the Radio 2 tent with her piano-led songs of quiet dissent, and Sharon Shannon and The Woodchoppers' four- fiddle attack adequately compensated for her inaudible accordion. Meanwhile the Galician Carlos Nunez, despite his Max Wall haircut and gurns, exuded star quality on an invigorating, mostly instrumental set that merged Celtic and Spanish musics: "Hola! Music with a lot of passion? Yes, yes!" Best of all, Michael McGoldrick's 12-man band incorporated a funk bass and brass section into their English folk and were as thrilling as near- full-tilt U2. Who really needs Glastonbury after all?
Related links:
http://www.cam-folkfest.co.uk/
