Our search for a good value festival this year had been based around finding one on the Bank Holiday weekend. A couple had come up, both in Yorkshire, which was good for me. Dan was travelling up from Cardiff and Dave coming across from Manchester.
After some discussion, we had gone for Galtres festival, 10 miles north of York. It had started its life as a beer festival, but gradually included food and music. But it looked like it might be more focussed on booze than top quality music. Still it sounded different, and sometimes these small festivals get some unexpectedly good bands.
Our second discussion was based around if staying over and if so where. No one wanted to drive back this year, so it was a choice between a guesthouse/hotel and kipping at the festival. Dan volunteered he had a 70′s trailer tent he could bring, and in the end we opted for that – Dave being out-voted, and giving in gracefully.
Picked up outside my house was nice and then we had the hour or so drive over to York. There was this beeping noise when the indicators were used – apparently required by law for a trailer which stopped me having a nap, but some tasty wine gums were being handed round which kept me occupied. This year none of us had done any research on the bands, and in fact I’d forgotten who was on the lineup, so I was quite happy when the guys reminded me The Beat were headlining.
Getting close to the destination we were going down backroads looking for the festival. Dan was quite unhappy about any chance of having to reverse the trailer – it taking special skills to avoid jack knifing. We toddled down this backroad, then suddenly we were there. Just one banner on the entrance to the site and no other signs at all before that. We overshot it. So now we had to carry on down the road until we got somewhere we could turn with the trailer.
Into the festival site, and there was just room enough for us in the van area – someone had left that morning after the first day. We got the trailer tent up just before the rain started to spit – and we saw it in all its full 70′s glory. It was a beauty, and Dan wanted to crack open some beers to celebrate. The tent had been his uncle’s whose relationship had splintered. Now Dan’s as the new owner had had some difficulties, and Dave was convinced the trailer tent was to blame for all their woes.
Into the festival we went. Everything was being done with tokens. They were £15 for a book of 10. A beer was 2 tokens. It might not take a great maths brain to work out this translation but I was thinking with a few real ales down me that I might start to forget the exchange rate and be buying some rather expensive options. Our first stop then, the beer tent. It was a choice of over a hundred real ales in barrels with a few on tap. Ciders and Perries. No lager whatsoever. None of that cheap Strongbow or Carling – this was top quality stuff, and at £3 a shot it seemed very good value. Real glasses too, not poxy paper cups. However I’m not that keen on real ale, and at 3pm found myself worryingly drinking a pint of 7.5% rocket fuel cider.
The rain was falling and everyone crowded into the tents. The singer Andy Curry commented he had a captive audience – he did. His rendition of Pyschokiller was quite entertaining though, then out into the rain for the second pint. I couldn’t drink 7% cider all day so I settled for a more reasonable 3.odd percent Golden Best. I figured I could drink a fair bit of that.
Our first band on the main stage – a rock group called Mantra. Dave had decided they would be his band of the day, but he was quite disappointed by them. Next we saw Glass. Andy Curry was guitarist. They sounded like a cross between Editors and Killers, and while their sound wasn’t too bad the posy singer was bugging me, and I was glad to get away. We were all feeling like food, and it was starting to rain again – so into the curry tent, where we all chose differently – I think it was all good. At this point I had a few words with an annoying woman and I got a little peeved off. In fact I think the mood generally wasn’t so good.
The rain, the not very good bands, overwhelmingly middle class middle aged punters, and the very small site with few options was quite disappointing after the brilliant y-not the previous year.
A vote was cast to go back to the trailer tent for an ‘interlude’. I lost and back we went. It gave us a bit of time to re-group, and then we hoped to see some better bands. In the late afternoon we saw three ska bands and this turned things around. They were all great, I think there must have been so many because The Beat were headlining. They were all young (except the Beat) and there was some great energy, and some loopy dancing going on down at the front. We all became much happier. Also as the sun was going down, we saw a intrumental band called Tears of Ishtar. I think they would be called post rock – but the sound was just right for that point in the day when you get that golden light over a festival.
The ska bands were Jimmy the Squirrel, Copasetics and Catch it Kebab. The guys were discussing if Jimmy the Squirrel was better or Catch it Kebab. I had enjoyed them all. The sound for them was to be harder and edgier than The Beat’s which sounded kind of muted.
The Beat had split into two bands. Dave Wakeling’s ‘The English Beat’ playing in the US, and Rankin Roger’s ‘The Beat’ playing in the Uk. Rankin Roger had brought in his son as the second voice, and he was clearly very happy he was up there with him. It was a good headliner, with a small incident occuring when Dave was taken away by security and questioned outside the fence. He’d had a few beers by then but we did’t know what he was supposed to have done and we weren’t sure what to do. After a while he came back – a case a mistaken identity in his beany. They were looking for a man called Gordon.
With entry to the festival you were given a special Galtres glass. Towards the end as I went into the toilets I heard this smashing noise in the dark. Bloody hell I’d smashed my glass, but no it was someone else. The comment from a guy coming out – how ironic that he had nursed it all weekend to smash it in the last hour.
We’d had a good day: we’d laughed at the pathetic ‘fair’ and the pathetic ‘maze’, got angry at the middleclass punters, had an amazing deal on some excellent apple pie, argued about this and that, watched Dave being mocked by a young woman, searched fruitlessly for the running order for ages in the end only finding it on the mixing desk, been seriously disturbed by the sight of a bunch of middle aged men in v necks dancing to bollywood tunes, and laughed at a man with a ridiculous blow up rasta hat.
The night would be ended in the trailer tent, Dan determined to make us drink some more of his Stella Artois. We were joined by a lady from the van next door who turned up with a pint glass 3/4′s full of wine complaining that her companions had gone to bed so could she talk to us as we would keep her awake anyhow. Dave came up with a game of guessing 80′s songs from a Never mind the Buzzcocks like rendition which entertained us for some time before we turfed the well built local lady out – not before she hinted ‘fat bottom girls make the rocking world go round’ with a twinkle in her eye.
Galtres Festival Photos
Some festival links:
Easingwold Advertiser | Kluens Photos | more Kluens photos (prefer these)
