Stu’s weekend from the Main Stage

Bleary eyed and hobbling, suffering from what I like to call ‘flip flop foot’, Sunday evening’s long drive back to Norfolk from the second Hop Farm Festival in the deepest depths of Kent was more like that scene from Clockwork Orange where that guys eye’s were clamped open – but without the images or classical music… and a bit less painful… and they weren’t clamped open. In retrospect, it was nothing like Clockwork Orange. It was more like driving home a bit sleepy. That’s it. That’s not very dramatic is it? The point I’m trying to make in a roundabout kind of way is that despite the sheer amount of pain I was in, despite the fact that after about three hours sleep over the whole weekend, despite the fact that I had to entertain maddog Franc the entire way home and stop him dribbling over the dashboard (you can’t take him anywhere) you couldn’t wipe the stupid goofy grin off my face even after punching it several times until I bled (people tried, oh did they try).

It seems that we are a country of festival lovers. We all love a good sing song, something that organisers have been quick to pounce upon. Every weekend from the middle of May until the leaves start to fall you can’t help but fall over unwashed revellers and falafel stands. They occupy every bit of grass that hasn’t been claimed by old people in deckchairs with handkerchiefs on their heads. Of course, in the arguably over saturated festival market, organisers are being forced to pull something extra special out of the bag to make them stand out.

Step forward The Hop Farm Festival – the only major festival where rubbish beer and its subsequent advertising isn’t shoved down your gullet from every conceivable angle for the entire weekend. Proudly sponsor free, the ‘festival for real music fans’ certainly pitched its tent and signalled a warning to the big boys.

What Vince Power has created is an absolute gem of a festival. If you love the vibe of Glastonbury and Latitude but aren’t so keen on tripping over someone every few paces, this is the festival for you. I have never experienced such a friendly, laid back festival atmosphere, and believe me it makes a huge difference to the weekend.

So, with the car unpacked, stumbling to the camp site laden with the crates of beer, the duvet (if you’re going to slum it, slum it Kingsize!) and the tent – the clueless maddog crew spent the best part of an hour in darkness working out how Argos tents are put together (the answer – not very well) much to the amusement of the vodka fuelled boys and girls next door who would become honorary maddoggers for the weekend – where else would you meet someone whose job is being a clown? Only in a tent…

Come midnight, the birthday celebrations began, which resulted in entirely unwelcome start to the Saturday morning. The solution? Why, a birthday breakfast beer of course! The scene was set, we were out to work hard and party hard so first things first, a wander to the press tent to consume the first of many, many sandwiches that now haunt my dreams…

Due to delays in licensing this year, the organisers only had since January to put together the bill, which could have spelt disaster, but despite the setbacks, the bill easily rivalled some of the bigger festivals – a major coup was Florence and the Machine, fresh from her mesmerising Glastonbury appearance a couple of weeks before, the confidence in her new found adoration showed, gliding delicately round the stage whipping the crowd into a mid afternoon frenzy.

With Franc camped out by the second stage, it was down to me, ‘Mainstream Stu’ to see what was occurring on the main stage. The epic Howling Bells, ex pat Aussies, impressed the ever growing crowd, not harmed in anyway by the sublimely beautiful Juanita Stein up front seducing the sun drenched masses. Definitely a new favourite of mine!

Then, the undoubted highlight of the festival for me, with the maddog award for utter brilliance and comeback of the year going to (wait for it….) ASH! If there was a band that epitomises the festival experience, then Tim Wheeler’s crew win hands down with a flying V on top. When telling anyone and everyone that I was excited about their slot, people gave me a look of pity and patted me on the head… But such is the magnetism and sheer power of Ash’s performance, they drew the biggest crowd of the day and had everyone pogoing for England. Essentially a greatest hits set, exactly what festivals are all about, they stormed through an hour, making it seem like only ten minutes. To herald the start of an exciting time for Ash; They are releasing a new internet only single every two weeks for the next year, they treated us fans to new songs which slotted perfectly alongside the more familiar pop genius – and boy, on this showing, Ash are set for the comeback of the century! Though why they weren’t headlining over The Fratellis is anyone’s guess…

The View launched into their set by spitting every couple of seconds (I’m sure their mums wouldn’t approve) but the crowd didn’t seem to mind too much – what has society been reduced to eh? I remember when youngsters had respect and you could leave your back door open… and say what you want about the Pigeon Detectives music, there is no denying that they know how to put on a show. They can also play a mean five aside, easily beating the Big Brother Boys (I don’t think I was dreaming it…. though I may have been dreaming the Shipwrecked Girls team… Hold on – that wasn’t a dream either? Ahhhhhh). Being told off by a Pigeon Detectives mum for ‘being sarcastic’ while cheering her boy was a definite high point in my life so far…

So day one resulted in a major migraine from carrying around a camera which weighs the same as a baby elephant, a migraine which even beer and gin & tonic couldn’t budge (I tried) – so the birthday partying was thwarted somewhat, and literally washed out at two AM when the heavens opened and everything went eerily quiet. Night then!

Sunday morning had me dazed. I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing for a good couple of minutes before I realised that I hadn’t had the breakfast beer yet… with that remedied, it was time to look at the day’s agenda.

The prize for ‘band who I thought would be rubbish but are actually really’ good goes to brummie indie rockers The Twang, who have managed to become really quite good! Another perfect festival band who beat the audience from their Sunday morning hangovers and kickstarted the days party. The Mystery Jets frontman / guitarist / keyboard player / one man band Blaine Harrison hobbled onstage with a roadies help on crutches and in plaster and delivered a powerful and somehow still frenetic set while Super Furry Animals reminded everyone they were still alive – complete with APPLAUSE signs held aloft cheekily after each song!

We were down to business as soon as the most anticipated band of the day took to the stage, and marked a canny addition to the bill; The Doves, who have shot through the stratosphere this year; They aren’t gimmicky or showy, but what they have in abundance is awsomeness. The scale and depth of their songs is like a panoramic scene, almost cinematic, yet still accessible and the crowd sang along to every word. Amazing.

The Editors delivered yet another blinding set, worthy headliners in themselves and surely a tough act for The Modfather, the legend that is Paul Weller to follow. For it is he who everyone is here to see. The ever enduring appeal of the man from The Jam and Style Council never ceases to surprise me; maybe I’m too young! But the man has charisma and still packs a punch after all these years, churning out classic after classic. How can that be topped? Chuck in Roger Daltrey for an encore and you have the perfect festival rounded off with a cherry on top.

And that, dear friends, brings us full circle back to the car and really bad film analogies that I have learnt from and will never attempt again. What a great weekend and what a great festival. Organisers should be proud of what they have managed to create down there in Kent. A genuine contender for festival of the year, I for one will be back for as long as it is going, and if there is any justice – that will be forever!

Words and Photos > Stuart Hogben