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knockengorroch.org.uk
Review by Chris Silver
Knockengorrach is an all round festival experience that
really can’t be recounted by even the most pompous
of reviewers. It is an event that, if you’ll pardon
the cliché, has to be seen to be believed. This was
my second foray into Knocengorrach after May’s World
Ceilidh and my worn city psyche was yearning for another
experience in that stunning valley.
Yet as the Bothy Collective drove in semi-darkness down
a tenuous road into the Galloway hills (after a somewhat
ill fated journey from Edinburgh) my refined city pessimism
began to get the better of me. When I discovered that the
only available patch of ground on which to pitch my tent
consisted of 90 per cent rock and 10 per cent soil, my doubts
were furthered; it was a starlit but bitterly cold night.
Perhaps I was never destined to be the happiest camper in
the Bothy Scout Troop.
However it is such rigours that make this festival all the
more worthwhile, and do so much to foster the sparkling
sense of community that is the hallmark of this small yet
perfectly formed festival. The levelling quality of mutual
dirt goes a long way.
In terms of music the event caters for a vast swathe of
tastes, from the most loyal folk to the most rebellious
ska. Yet because the main stage is open for so long over
the whole weekend, and is complemented by a variety of other
musical venues the festival seems to have a struck a balance
which means there is rarely any shortage of music that you
want to hear.
To offer a critique of the main stage would belittle the
entirely enveloping experience that this festival has to
offer- you can wander from dance tent to folk session in
a matter of minutes, perhaps taking in some reggae in between.
Veteran Irish folk band Altan offered a climactic performance
on Saturday night, and biased as I am towards the folk element
of this festival I have always felt that the roots based
artists always seem to create the best atmosphere around
the main stage. Even the slower song based material such
as a resplendent Green Grow the Rushes O kept the crowd
of muddied, substance imbibing festival goers enthralled.
Rory Campbell (Old Blind Dogs) entertained a slightly sodden
five o’clock crowd on the main stage with a fiery
ability on whistle and pipes, featuring tunes from Galicia,
Northumberland, Brittany (among many others) complemented
by some brilliant percussion.
For those with a taste for a good old folk session the festival
offers a number of outlets for almost anyone to express
themselves musically. Despite the cold, the Bothy Collective
were often drawn to the literally constant sessions in the
festival’s Acoustic Village, frequented by countless
memorable characters (not least the man who embodies the
festival spirit more than anyone, the irrepressible Tim
Thomas).
By Sunday evening (or to be more accurate, early Monday
morning) the spirit of the Bothy had begun to wilt. With
two successive hangovers merging into one, damp tents, and
dwindling provisions some began to retreat towards their
sleeping bags. For those few that remained however, the
greatest discovery of the festival was yet to be seen, the
relentless Weirdstring Band. This trio of fiddle, guitar
and double bass performed a remarkable set that was the
perfect finale to a remarkable festival with their brilliantly
witty gypsy/folk renditions of just about every over-played
hit you could name.
Something very special occurs at Knockengorrach that others
festivals lack, few who I know seem to have gone through
it unchanged. This is partly due to its well-nigh complete
isolation from the outside world. It is also partly due
to the wide variety of people that attend form the very
young to the very old, from the seasoned hippy to the curious
student. Even more significant is relatively modest numbers
that attend. To quote the man who owns the land it takes
place on Simon Holmes, the festival’s main success
lies in getting people out of their boxes. The problem is
that by the end of the festival you don’t really want
to get back in them. In my opinion any cynical city-dweller
should be dragged to Knockengorrach and shown that music,
mud, and Scotland’s scenery should be embraced, not
shied away from.
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