Green Man Festival 2017 review: Future Islands, PJ Harvey and Sleaford Mods celebrate its 15th year in Wales
Green Man graces the Brecon Beacons with Ryan Adams, PJ Harvey, Future Islands and the burning effigy of a green man and his dragon
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Your support makes all the difference.“I was wondering what sort of crowd would be at Green Man festival on the Thursday,” Anna Meredith tells a packed tent at the very start of the long weekend. “People without jobs? Or keen beans?”
It's definitely the latter. Some so-called “settlers” have been camping in the valley in the Brecon Beacons for the whole week, taking part in organised fun like bowmaking, beatboxing and stargazing.
By Thursday, the general campsites are filling up with Welsh locals, families and gentle ravers. Rollo Maughfling, Archdruid of Stonehenge and Britain, has blessed the ground with a Druid ceremony.
The Green Man - actually a woman and a Welsh red dragon made of kindling - stands tall in the centre, waiting to be ritually burned on the last night. Green Man is celebrating its 15th year with headliners Ryan Adams, PJ Harvey and Future Islands and by the looks of it, everyone is a keen bean.
On Friday, kids in bright onsies wield inflatables past groups of men working their way through the 90 beers in the courtyard.
Irvine Welsh draws a huge crowd to the Babbling Tongues tent, home to talks and stand-up. We burn our mouths on chilli coated tofu “chicken” wings from the Vegan Junk Food stand and listen to Welsh give a frank account of becoming famous, noting that friends went from supporting him to resenting him as his star ascended.
Nadia Reid plays next door in a walled garden, home to the aforementioned Vegan Junk Food and a cider pub, which doubles as shelter from the drizzle. Plenty brave the weather to get closer to Reid’s atmospheric songs, picked out on two guitars. The 25-year-old New Zealander is at the start of a 34-date European tour that will see her rise up the bill at festivals to come.
That evening, British Sea Power do their best to blend in with the astonishing scenery in the fading light. They festoon the main mountain stage with foliage. Bears emerge from the leaves, waving at tiny children dressed as polar bears on shoulders in the crowd. The band end with favourites from the their third album, Do You Like Rock Music?, released ten years ago next year.
While British Sea Power seem made to play on this soil, Future Islands look like they landed here from space. Frontman Samuel T Herring works hard to win over the soggy crowd, doing the arm swinging and chest beating that brought him new audiences after the performance on David Letterman three years ago. They’ve come a long way since then, releasing The Far Field earlier this year and scooping up festival slots everywhere from Coachella to Glastonbury.
Saturday belongs to Shirley Collins. She joins journalist Jude Rogers for an interview in the Babbling Tongues tent after lunch. Collins, who rose to prominence as part of a folk revival in the 1950s, has recently returned to singing after losing her voice for 30 years.
Next door, Manchester upstarts the Orielles try and shake the morning torpor from those gathered in the walled garden. “It’s early isn’t it,” says guitarist Henry Wade, who looks like he might be suffering as much as anyone, but still executes meticulously timed, eighties-inspired indie pop.
Jessica Pratt has a harder time getting people to properly listen at main stage with her whispery acoustic songs and strange vocal effects. The weather is good on Saturday, and the bowl shaped stage is covered with blankets and camping chairs.
People draw closer for the Wave Pictures and closer still for Shirley Collins’s teatime set. There are no Welsh folk songs, but the crooked characters in her English folk repertoire conjure the pagan spirit of Green Man. The ladies of the songs lie in pools of blood in their manor houses, or chat to death in their final hours. Meanwhile Collins, now 82, is covered in glitter and grinning as a Morris dancer leaps and bows before her.
Collins is followed by Lambchop, the project of Nashville-based Kurt Wagner. He executes a noodling set of alternative country, bathed in vocoder and punctuated by wandering basslines. But the nighttime belongs to the Far Out tent, where Liars, Oh Sees (formerly Thee Oh Sees) and Jon Hopkins are busting eardrums.
Liars' set is marred by sound issues. Frontman Angus Andrew, in full bridal gown and veil, gesticulates silently at the audience while the band continues regardless. When his mic is turned on three songs in it's not clear if the singer or half the crowd notice the difference.
Many people stay rooted to the spot for Oh Sees, the project of San Francisco native John Dwyer and a revolving cast of musicians. On the band’s 18th album, Dwyer has enlisted two drummers, who pound perfectly in time for the whole set. They stop with a clatter near the end as Dwyer stops the show to break up a flight in the front, to a round of applause from the crowd.
Oh Sees are playing their last show before a flight home from Heathrow in the morning after a long tour. This is the sound of a muscular band playing at the height of its powers. The evening ends with Jon Hopkins’s tasteful techno and the acid bangers of Daniel Avery.
By Sunday, the rain has returned, boosting numbers in the Babbling Tongues tent. “I’m not stupid, I can see the weather out there!” Jason Williamson of Sleaford Mods grins when the interviewer tries to compliment him for drawing such a big crowd.
Field Music are the true beneficiaries of the rain, however. They have already begun in the Far Out tent when Conor Oberst starts on the Mountain Stage, wearing sunglasses and singing about beaches “to try and warm you all up”.
Plenty of people brave it for a bit but the masses descend on Field Music when it really starts to tip it down. They continue cheerfully with their set through the rainstorm, stopping to admire the downpour. “We’ve got two songs left,” says frontman Peter Brewis, “so you guys can just stand there at the back while we play two more songs.”
Thankfully the skies clear a little for PJ Harvey, whose nine-piece band honk through old favourites 50 Ft Queenie and Down by the Water. At the end, a procession of torches lead people back to high ground for the burning of the Green Man, which miraculously lights despite what must be some very soggy kindling.
Green Man ends in a blaze of effigies and fireworks, reminding us that while the world may be a little crueller than it was a year ago, all things good and green still reside in this blessed valley in Wales.
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