Bestival 2012 (Day Two)

After finally managing to successfully navigate our way back to the correct tent – no mean feat – we get some shut-eye in preparation for Saturday. With all that music, along with the added mayhem of it being unofficial fancy dress day, we are going to need every one of those 40 winks. After flailing about melodramatically and proving ourselves generally pitiful at the art of Waking Up, we remember there’s a very talented young man with a guitar at the Big Top tent, and we pull ourselves together back into [semi] functioning human beings just in the nick of time.

Arriving at the Big Top, it’s easy to see that constant plays on a certain youth-orientated, public-funded radio station has done Ben Howard no harm whatsoever; in similar vein to Alt-J’s set yesterday, the tent is overflowing with crowds continuing all the way down the slope. The runaway popularity of the singer’s debut ‘Every Kingdom’ is evident in the amount of people singing every single word. ‘Old Pine’ prompts a particularly enjoyable moment, as a gang of lads dressed up as bears manage to muster some very respectable, and surprisingly tuneful vocals for the occasion. What also comes as a slight surprise is how raucous proceedings grow during set highlights ‘The Fear’ and ‘The Wolves’ with several highly enthusiastic ho-downs taking place in our nearby vicinity. Ben Howard’s brand of intricate, dark-tinged folk music seems to breathe with new life live, and a rootsy kind of rawness - that perhaps goes slightly unappreciated during casual listens to ‘Every Kingdom’ - shines. Howard’s distinctive vocals are perhaps even more captivating live when he has the freedom to tinker with melody. At the time we don’t know this, but Ben Howard will go on to scoop a Mercury Prize nomination. Managing to occupy the worlds of accessibility and inventiveness at the same time, Howard deserves proper recognition, and his Bestival set goes down a storm.

After scoffing Katsu at the Wagamama Longue, and a tranquil few hours wandering around the Ambient Woods in a slight daze we’re still fawning about how talented and lovely Ben Howard is. The fantastic thing about Bestival is that the urge to run around madly with clash finders, oddly, hasn’t gripped us at all, and we’re having a lovely afternoon stumbling across quirky little installations and impromptu acts tucked away in the Gypsy Camp and Ambient Amphitheatre. Getting back to business, though, it is time for another headliner, and another resoundingly popular band about to return with a second album. Tonight feels vastly different from the hushed and awestruck crowd watching The XX last night, though, and as Two Door Cinema Club take to the stage the roaring response is akin to heartily embracing an old friend- with back-slapping and all.

Showing off new material from ‘Beacon’ as well as first album songs that have now become old favourites, Two Door Cinema Club prove that they have graduated from the indie minor leagues to the big-time. There’s no real need for them to scrap for attention, though, because in a cramped landscape, the band have crafted a unique and instantly recognisable signature. The loveable Alex Trimble, with his distinctive voice, and equally distinct orange mop of hair is having a ball up on stage, and keeps us waiting right until the end for ‘I Can Talk’. Prompting a sea of fans in wildlife costumes (with varying degrees of both resemblance and relevance, it must be said; we saw one man wearing all the undergrowth he could muster on a cumbersome chicken wire frame) to bounce in unison, the mood is high-spirited, and Two Door Cinema Club comfortably headline Saturday night. Doors, we’re sure, will continue to open for the talented Northern Irish bunch.

We head up to the Big Top just in time for Major Lazer, whose set predictably reaches its peak during a certain dance banger popularised by Beyonce. Despite a few sideways glares for making the rookie error and yelling “who run the world? Girls!” several times, everybody is in a very pleasant mood. So jovial is the tone in fact, that people don’t even seem ruffled by the feeling Mr Lazer might as well be rifling through his entire record collection, and playing about 30 seconds from each song. In the aftermath of ‘Pon De Floor’, though, most people have accepted the set has had its moment to shine, and we’re more than ready to move on.

We meander around all manner of sparkling signs, some incredibly constructed costumes, and 10 ft high red tulips sprouting from Robin Hill to reach Rizlab, and as the violins of Bonobo’s ‘Prelude’ strike up in this setting, the whole atmosphere seems to perfectly encapsulate Bestival – however cliched and utterly stupid that might sound. Bestival is all about lots of carefully thought-out, barely noticeable details that all slot together like a 3D puzzle to make something you love, but can’t quite put your finger on. Tonight, at Bonobo’s set, it’s a similar story musically. Chatting to a friend who has ‘escaped’ from the ‘hardships’ of working in the Burlesque tent, we agree that ‘Black Sands’ sounds exactly how garden centre music should sound. What with all those flutes and tranquil sounds of wind fluttering across green mountainsides, grazing the leaves of hundred-year-old forests, this is electronic zen at its best. By the end of an effortlessly laid-back set, we have fully planned ideas to mount a campaign to replace all those infernal Big Band buttons on those garden centre machines with Bonobo, and it really would make the world a far more pleasant place.

After Bonobo we are somewhat engulfed by the party spirit, and spend the remaining hours until daylight pitching up at whatever music we happen to like the sound of. A cursory glance at our now completely mangled programme reveals we’re having the time of our lives at Dirty Bird Showcase, with Claude Vonstroke, Justin Martin and Eats Everything. Not exactly being connoisseurs of these things, we readily confess that aside from the latter, those names don’t really ring any bells, and normally you’d find us in our comfort zone instead of in the Bollywood Tent. However, in typical Bestival style, the need to get involved and absorb absolutely everything is the driving force, and we have a fantastic time, as well as learning a little bit too. Fun and educational, some might say.

Wrapping up a night of top-notch entertainment is the fire-shooting mayhem of Arcadia’s Mechanical Cabaret, along with the devastatingly huge, Richter-level force of Stanton Warriors. A robotic dragon fashioned out of twisted looking scrap junk is just behind us flailing its head about in time and puffing smoke fiercely out of its nostrils. Piercing beacons of bright green light are panning around the sky erupting from the apocalyptic metalwork of Arcadia’s central tower, and in the culminating moments of the set, a whirlwind of fire – and it is actually a torrent of whirling flames, no hyperbole – shoots into the sky. We are entirely reassured having thankfully spotted a fire safety crew lurking in the shadows nearby, but still, the whole effect is a terrifyingly breathtaking spectacle. Maybe if money didn’t go into perfectly orchestrated fire shows, Bestival would be rolling in dollar rather than just breaking even, but then, as we’ve said before, it’s all in the attention to detail. With a passion for music and a genuine concern for the regular punter’s experience - that stretches far beyond the pithy efforts of corporate fun-fair festivals - Rob da Bank’s Bestival has something special that is missing from so many festivals these days. It has soul.