Daniel Pratley writes it like he sees it as he sloshes through the mud:
The weather Fuxked it
The weather stole it and royally shafted the Bluedot staff, the punters and ultimately, the atmosphere.
For us, what Bluedot could have been and what it turned out to be are Chalk and Cheese. We endured and we certainly enjoyed…but ultimately – we just endured.
Taking the wide view, Bluedot occupies a solid and slightly peculiar position in the festival calendar, promoting science, and often spoddy, ground breaking and kooky acts. It’s kid-friendly too, and when enveloped by the iconic Lovell Telescope the whole package appeals to a fun/family/socially conscious crowd. On paper, the festival clearly has its credentials stamped on the serious side but the line-up’s focus is frizzy and fun. We get satirical and scientific speakers and quirky headliners that occupy niche positions in society. It’s a splintered line-up of has-beens (Grace Jones), still are’s (Young Fathers), newbies (MadMadMad) and will be’s (Scalping), but ultimately the line-up is eclectic and flamboyant.
So…with big-boy intentions we set to carving out Friday. Django Django delivered the on-brand ‘Hale Bop’ in their typically confusing nebulous cowboy romp, and even Roisin Murphy, who we doubted had the headliners heft, seemed to transition to the situation perfectly. The relentless thwack of ploddy bongo’s and Roisin’s hypnotic stage-craft seemed to be perfectly paced for the crowd. The ‘time is now’ being mangled to a ketamine jog rather than its exuberant ecstasy of old.
Roisin Murphy – photo Jody Hartley
An unexpected highlight was Creep Show and the enigmatic John Grant. ‘Modern Parenting’ standing proud in a slumping LCD kind of way. Ending the night on the dreamy groove of Future Utopia and ‘Make it Home’ was a perfect partner to the tense robotics of Leftfield and ‘Afrika Shox’ and the dystopian rumblings of ‘Phat Planet’.
Whilst Friday was a fairly benign well-faced affair, Saturday’s shit got real. And to be frank and just to be sure, Saturday’s shit started getting real during Friday night.
Saturday welcomed a sloppy soup of woodchip muddy goo and gleeful kids salivating at the prospect (they really do love those muddy puddles).
The novelty dissipated quickly though, and in no time the absurdity of trudging through stinking slop for two days kicked in. Bands cancel (Egyptian Blue – what happened?!!), stage-time openings see delays, and the festival is seemingly triaged whilst a recovery is explored.
But for many there is no recovery, the position is inevitable for 50% of this family crowd. The kids deteriorate swiftly, standing like zombies, fixed rigid with no grass to rest on; wet, muddy and howling
For us, to top it off, there’s no escaping the hell of the inevitable ’car-tow-eye-tractor-pull’ out of the car-park; hence the remaining days adopt a slightly different proposition.
Finding a nook to escape the near-biblical outside conditions is fortunately pretty simple at Bluedot, whether it’s the Architects of Air’s Luminarium with its Tron-esque lightplay or the numerous educational and political talks in Mission Control. From Nish Kumar to Adam Buxton’s well-polished and well-attended Bowie show. M.Control was where it was at to ponder the catastrophe of climate change whilst hiding from the affects of said climate change.
And whilst our priorities shifted from music to just getting through, there were many stand-out moments; Henge brought their well-received alien-schtick to the main stage, ending with the demilitarise parade through the crowd – which was bafflingly weird and beautiful.
Henge – photo Scott M Salt
Those Scalping boys and their heady industrial dress confidently destroyed the Nebula Stage, securing their position on Leftfield’s throne. Young Fathers, once more, capitalised on that massive Glastonbury wave they’re currently surfing up and down the country (although Hastings looks like he should get off that wave pretty sharpish).
Once nature takes over priorities shift slightly away from the music, and the conditions just tend to paint every moment an unexpected and uncontrollable hue of brown.
And so, to say we miss a few artists is possibly a gross understatement, Snapped Ankles and Egyptian Blue (who pull out) among our most regrettable; but we side-swiped many others including the headline performances from Pavement and Grace Jones.
Whilst we can rationalise that shift away from the music, with a view to making the festival work for us…there will be a large bank of the crowd that won’t be able to forgive the situation they find themselves in. For these few/many the road to recovery will be long, not least for the team at Bluedot who have delicately navigated a pretty treacherous scenario.
You may see negative claims, bitchy back-biting and an awful amount of bile played out on social media towards the team. You may see the vitriol of Sunday ticketers refused entry, cars stuck in gluey porridge and a depressingly empty swampy festival. But as the chatter subsides, our feelings are of overwhelming support for a team that continued to dig deep and showed no signs of giving up.
Bluedot….our fingers crossed for a brighter 2024.
