It’s Friday and things are just getting going (for me, anyway). And, as I venture in, I can see crowds of seasoned Womad-ers waving their hands together while energetic samba beats pump out of a tent called the Lizard Lounge. Immediately, I’m reminded of the festival’s rich diversity in music. The sounds and rhythms immediately transport me to another corner of the globe. And that’s what makes it so special here. I remember now…
Seeing and hearing that gave me the urge to soak-up as much as I could, so I went off to catch Norwegian musician, Vassvik next. He was on the Ecotricity Stage and, like anything at WOMAD, his sound wasn’t to everyone’s taste. That said, everyone was transfixed, one way or another. The spectrum of colourful lights illuminating the faces of fans helped with that.
From there, I pottered on down to catch Bombay Bicycle Club and, despite some pretty pessimistic weather reports, it was still nice and dry. That meant a big old crowd had turned out, and the band delivered a set of music far more recognisable than most other offerings on the bill. At least to the Womad newbies. Their set was a solid energiser for a session of swing dancing to King Pleasure and the Biscuit Boys, who were on shortly afterwards on the open-air Molly’s bar. Much needed fun, that.
Saturday kicked off with a defiant act by the sun, blazing its way on down and making the whole atmosphere even more bloody lovely. I needed food and, despite their being offerings spanning world cuisine, I played it safe with the molten-cheese-loaded ‘Good Slice’ pizza (a London-founded stone baked pizza company). It was seriously delicious. Following that with lashings of delicious local cider, served by friendly pirates (apparently, Jack Sparrow’s not the only endearing pirate), I was good to go.
The festival is super family friendly, too, with parents and little ones entertained early on every day with a packed schedule of fun at the Kids World Field. I could see the relief in the eyes of the adults: they needed the break. Interactive artistic activities, like clay-carving, mosaic-making and skateboarding are all available, making an impressive selection for the youngsters. Sadly, however, being 41 counted me out of the mix. No kick flips and ollies for me. Probably for the best, what with these knees…
As the afternoon sunshine beamed down, a crowd gathered for a poetry performance from author, poet, presenter and political columnist Michael Rosen. He amused the expectant faces, young and old, with humorous and touching tales from his younger years, and more recent experiences of life. All very real and very honest.
Continuing on with the poetry theme, I caught a team of expressive nurses and NHS supporters-come-poets in the Sharp Scratch Poetry Show. That one definitely tugged on the heart-strings. Most notably, BBC favourite, Piers Harrison-Reid. He ensured there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, as he devoted a beautiful poem to a fallen colleague.
After pulling myself together, I took a ride on the big wheel to check out the site during its most golden hour. Wow. It was like a painting, honest. Perfect mood setting for the Cinematic Orchestra. Without doubt, they were the true highlight of the day. The expansive sound, built upon delicately dynamic melodies that sit with you for a long time after, were matched by entrancing filmic projections. I checked out of reality for the entirety of their set. And I didn’t want to return. It was a truly beautiful moment.
Cinematic Orchestra put an end to Saturday for me. It wasn’t going to be beaten. But on Sunday, there was a lot I wanted to see, regardless of the eventual arrival of the rain. Wilfried Luezele — aka Lova Lova — got things going and made a solid effort, rousing the damp crowd with booming, rhythmic bass, vocals and syncopated beats that had everyone moving from the off.
Raz & Alfa then took their turn at the DnB Soundscape stage — whom I will certainly hope to check out next time I’m in Hackney. They were the perfect antidote to the dreary Sunday afternoon outside the tent, with a perfect mix of house beats combined with West African rhythm on percussion. It was, simply put, amazing.
The mud inevitably loosened, but spirits were not dampened. And my perseverance was fuelled by real ale. It really did work. A procession of wonderfully collaborative art proceeded through seas of awe-struck festival goers, displaying beautiful creations from the children of Womad, accompanied by the fantastic sounds and grooves of samba bands. This, while supping on my ale, was a great moment upon which to take stock of the whole event.
Next up, it was the heavier rock of Mad Mad Mad — a gem discovered by chance in the shelter of the DnB Soundscape tent — followed by Horace Andy from Massive Attack. The latter delivered an epic performance for an easy Sunday afternoon. For his set, Andy was accompanied by Dub Ansante Band and Matic Horns. Bloody bliss, it was.
Sunday evening felt like the right time to go and enjoy Luke Jerrand’s moon installation. Suspended deep in the Secret Forest, it illuminates the space in a way that makes it impossible to leave. And, to be honest, I didn’t for quite some time. I had some lovely conversations, a glass of red and took in the vibe — plenty of that here.
But, alas, I couldn’t just sit in the woods all night. As much as I wanted to. So, it was off to the Ecotricity Stage for Nihiloxica’s set, before the incredible Femi Kuti and the Positive Force wrapped things up as the final act on the Open Air stage.
Having not slipped face-first into the ever-deepening quagmire, and waking up every morning avoiding that dreaded festival hangover, WOMAD Festival 2023 turned out to be a massive win. Experiencing such an eclectic variety of music was the true magic, though. And, so far, the event isn’t spoiled by big brands and gimmicks, and, to some degree, it counters throwaway culture. The festival welcomes and celebrates all people, the rhythms and words from all cultures, and joins in the shared interests of environmental preservation and global togetherness.
It almost sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it?
Photo. credit: Garry Jones
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