Keeping it relentlessly unreal, Saturday at the most aptly named Big Chill couldn’t be in better spirits. In the midst of possibly the most overtly middle class festival known to England the Big Chill epitomises all there is to actually like about summer- the lack of screaming kids pining over Florence, the endless knob-heads finding their choon.
With the days proceedings, drawing in a crowd towards the reggae loving dj from Bristol, who’s married to music because ‘it doesn’t treat him as bad’, it’s hard not to get lost in the endless sea of people avoiding the 9-5 in their sheep and parrot costume. Yes, it seems the only way to truly get involved in escaping the ratrace is to come dressed as one.
Eastnor castle’s grounds have become a village to the festival go-ers. Yes, if you go down to the woods today you’re sure to find a fine supply of Grocery shops and guardian vendors. Civilisation certainly isn’t lost in Herefordshire. Alongside Mr. Scruff’s tea tent being the optimum hangover alias, every falafel stand known to man and the Tate Britain showing off its Rude Britana comic art, it’s easy to forget you might actually drop you’re phone down the most unforgiving portaloo later that night.
Alongside all of this there’s actually music to be seen. Good music in this case. Early on the likes of Metronomy kick things off on the main stage with their easily acknowledged pop synths combo which later bears host to Roots Manuva and headliner M.I.A. The versatility of the Big Chill really is to it’s credit. More gems of the evening include Caribou and Mount Kimbie, playing on Clash’s own stage, and the man never without a brew, Mr Scruff, on Revellers stage- things seem set off for the night. Let’s just hope we don’t get lost in the enchanted garden.
Words by Anna Conrad
