Venue:

Eastnor Castle, Malvern Hills

Marianne Smedley is on a mission to rock - but what the blazes is all this chilling business about? Turns out Lenny Cohen has a few surprises in store for her, as she reviews this year's festival...

There’s fresh air in my lungs, a smile on my face and a strange sensation creeps over me – I think I remember it as “relaxation”. The Big Chill has arrived.

It’s Friday and, like their equine namesakes, THE MULES pack an unexpected punch with their short, fast rockabilly tunes and singing drummer. But any illusions that we are at the most languid of the festivals to rock out are quickly shattered.

not even Noel Fielding’s silver catsuit can bedazzle you into thinking their main stage slot is brave rather than foolhardy...

So chilled is the atmosphere that MARTHA WAINWRIGHT’s usually rousing “we’ve all been there” sing-a-long of ‘Bloody Motherfucking Asshole’ provokes barely a murmur from the crowd. Wainwright, who gets renowned mouth percussionist Schlomo to accompany her on one song is trumped the next day by truly original French singer CAMILLE, who has not one, but two beatboxers, as well as dancers using their entire bodies as drums. These form the band that backs up her Bjork-yet-weirder warblings. The girl really should be more famous over here. Over to Saturday and THE MIGHTY BOOSH draw a massive crowd - but raise more boos than laughs, with a mixture of comedy and tunes that’s more shambolic than shamanic. After a portaloo-paranoia inducing rendition of ‘Eels’ (“Finding an entrance where they can”), not even Noel Fielding’s silver catsuit can bedazzle you into thinking their main stage slot is brave rather than foolhardy. Luckily, TOM MIDDLETON’s early-90s rave set brings the buzz back, and your correspondent buys a couple of glo sticks from an opportunistic entrepreneur in the crowd just as the Prodigy’s ‘Out of Space’ kicks in and the night kicks off. After the craziness of Saturday, we’re ready for an altogether more transcendental experience on Sunday. “Be my granddad Leonard!” the woman behind me shouts – it’s a sentiment that’s hard to disagree with. If only MR COHEN could share his wisdom (and Werthers Originals) with the whole world, it would surely be a better place. Sadly, he only performs for an hour or so, and after he’s done growling, “There is a crack in everything, it’s how the light gets in,” we emerge blinking our moistened eyes, warmer and a whole lot fuzzier.

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THE MIGHTY BOOSH Reviews

THE BIG CHILL 2008