#vantastival

We started June groggily but by 6.35 am Amy and myself were on the road, her at the wheel me keeping an eye on the satnav, heading for beautiful Beaulieu House (pronounced 'Bew-lee’) in Co. Louth. The sleep fell away from us like the miles of Motorway as we left Waterford, the sun already high and hot on another model summers day. The car was full of hats, coats, food, cameras, cutlery, blankets; loaded as if we were moving house not just heading away for a few days. Coming up on Naas, we ignored the googlemaps suggestion of a diversion to avoid traffic and slowed into a tailback of merging traffic just outside Naas. Soon after we stopped into the Lusk services for a snack breakfast before the final leg to Beaulieu House. As we rejoined traffic, birds of prey could be seen holding air above the road, nothing but fields and farms and a few houses for miles in every direction.

 It was just coming up on 11am when we pulled into the driveway; through the white Iron gates, over a small bridge. Boutique camping on one verge and the conservative yet stately Beaulieu House ahead of us.

Benny was the first friendly face to be seen striding across the lawn, and he gave us a warm welcome. I asked about the festival this year and he replied “It's smaller than before, but it's definitely Vantastival”. We pitched up and I went to explore the grounds. 

 The Yard

The Gardens

Through the field's gate, past the stables and it's curious mares, across the drive of the main house and the vista that opened up stopped me in my tracks. To the South a broad stepped lawn rolled down the shallow river valley, the arena occupying an elevated field, the Boyne beyond. A cool breeze came up from the valley, and a saw could be heard screaming through wood in the distance. I headed down the path towards the arena, a few hugs and happy reunions en route. Passing through the wooded glade of wild garlic and fern I came upon a post and beam stage constructed from whole hefty boughs, the sides paneled with offcuts from planked trunks. The stage was not long constructed but it looked like it had sat in the forest for years, exploiting the natural incline of the landscape for tiered seating. Just beyond this was a new footbridge constructed around the same time, heavy planks underfoot and natural curved and contoured branches supporting the structure. Crossing this I was back out into bright sunshine and the main arena with it's barn adjoining a Moroccan tent, and on up on the Western horizon the big blue main stage.

  VW Main Stage

The Firestone Stage under construction

When I had shot my fill I put on my work duds and spent the afternoon bouncing around the trails of the site in a 6 wheeled John Deere, helping put up some security fencing and judiciously shooting a few stills as we went. After a few hours of this we finished up and went back up to the crew kitchen (soon to be ViP bar) just off the main house, fixed myself some cobbled together carbonara (pasta with an egg cracked into it. That's essentially the same thing right?) and sat in the sun with a mug of tae.

I washed up and went on a stroll with Todd through the evening arena, still busy with construction. This  stroll soon became an open-air nighttime drive along an increasingly narrow dirt trail through the woods. Swinging arms don't last long around here, and a trailer of fence panels needed to be left for securing the perimeter in the morning. We headed up to a side gate, a hape of fences in tow and found the gate locked. I was left me to guard the trailer in the dusk ditch as the lads went to find the key. I climbed up and lay on the springy mesh of the fence panels, looking up at the arching branches above me that sliced up the dimming sky, wondering would they be back soon or was this part of an elaborate joke. About 15 mins later I heard an engine and saw headlights bouncing up the trail on the other side of the gate. We hitched up our load and carried on. I thought we'd be eaten alive by midges but they don't like fast food. The trees we passed between now blocked any hint of the darkening sky above us and bugs pinged off my face as we jostled along. We dropped off the trailer and, much lighter now, flew back up the trail, through puddles, over humps and around fallen branches. We took the first junction we came to, heading away form where we came in. “Where does this come out” I asked “we'll find out now” was the answer.

“Have you had food yet” was the first and only question upon entering the kitchen when we'd finished our nighttime jaunt. Meal times are very much first come first served, but the kitchen makes sure we're all fed, there is always more food cooked in advance and frozen, ready to go with a quick re-heat. I headed to bed shortly after, the camp quiet and dark. Only a horse could be heard whinnying intermittently in a nearby field under the cloudless night sky.

Thursday brought more bodies in more places, the site being populated with new arrivals as the day went on. Each time I passed through the arena more things had changed; Fences, giant toadstools, statues, signs. 

This day was spent photographing and editing the previous days shots in the quiet kitchen. This was the old kitchen for the main house, the contoured ceiling designed to scoop away steam and heat and expel it through vents hidden high in the shadows. Sun streamed in the high circular window yet the room was chill compared to the warmth outside the heavy and ancient walls. The high curved ceiling made it oddly silent, any voice reverberated around, meaning the speaker had to listen to themselves like on a bad phone line.

   Geoff of Jack Coady’s brewery installing a new tap

Below in the arena tasks overlapped as the Firestone Sound Stage and installations were being brought towards closure. Jack Coady's Brewery van was pulled up at the rear, the doors open while beer lines and taps were brought into the bar in the Moroccan tent. Outside site vehicles criss-crossed between gennies parked on the green, above at the main stage the PA was being installed and soundchecks and snippets of music soon echoed around the site.

The smell of wild garlic in the forest now mixed with the warm earthyness of fresh mulch spread to deaden the footfalls of the weekend revellers.

Later that night myself and Amy sat on a bench at the entrance to the walled gardens, drinking a prazky while overlooking the site below. The barn was all lit up, and beyond that red and green lights blinked out of time atop stone plinths marking the edge of the river Boyne.  

The irregular kachunk of a staple gun came up from below, then a chainsaw solo. Different engine revs harmonised with the metronomic hum of the light tower generators that underpinned every activity.

The hum continued up at crew camping as I sat in the dark car editing images, and when the lights were finally turned off I killed the engine and the occasional flustered snort of a horse was the only sound to disturb the peace.

Overhead a conversation about foraging int he woods at one stage, 

I guess it was for a love potion.

   Imogen weaving a rabbit hole

Friday morning brought even more new neighbours, tents popping up around the field and more bodies on the ground.

Getting the signs together for the kids area

I headed down to the arena, poking around to see what's new and seeking to tick a few shots off my list. I passed the Riddim Tin, a caravan turned into a mobile DJ booth, speakers embedded in the bodywork and decks installed within. (saviour of my Sunday night last year, bopping away to his tunes, steam rising from my clothes as I dried out in front of a flaming barrel). I then caught up with Geoff of Jack Cody's brewery to get a shot of him and the Vantastiv Ale tap they had just installed.

   Geoff of Jack Cody’s Brewery

I grabbed  a few snaps of kids playing alongside their weekend homes, waiting for the gates to open. I also wanted to get a shot of a VW T2 pulled up outside the main house, I figured it'd make a nice promo image. Bringing a camper up from the public site was not gonna happen. I spied Yvonne (one of the festival organisers) crawling about the site in a black 4x4, radio headpiece in one ear and always another person in the other. She suggested I stand out on the road and flag down a camper as it passed. 20 minutes later I was still stood in the ditch, watching the horizon of the road for any oncoming vehicles. Imogen pulling bales of soaking willows from the moat at the top of the drive.

Jeep. Jeep. Hatchback. Taxi. Then a pristine type 2 crests the hill, deep metallic brown with majestic chrome and cream trim. I flagged them down and found the driver obliging. They swung into the drive, positioned themselves for the shot. From here it was a few paces to the wi-fi rich main house to do some editing.

I met up with Noel Bailey, the tour guide for Beauliu House to allow me access to one of the rooms to work in. One of the many features he pointed out to me on the short journey was the painting of the Boyne by Willem Van der Hagen which was set high in the breast of the fireplace, similar to the one he painted of Waterford. He led me through to the fabulous dining room, and I set up shop beside a ceremonial sword and hat, generations of landowners gazed benignly down on me from the walls through the centuries as I worked.

Heading back to the arena a few hours later was weird, the festival had just kinda slid into existence, the empty field was full of tents and campers, the site which was only yesterday a construction yard was covered in people drinking, chatting, playing and sunning themselves, the Firestone stage full of people sitting and the vendors vending hard.

   Firestone Music Station

I swung over to the VW Main Stage to catch Sample Answer. My first time seeing him perform, I was instantly taken by his dirgy solo acoustic set with electric augmentations, occasional loops and synth pads. His guitar was given a tombrous boost on the strum, and with a voice akin to Devendra Banhart he was a real winner for me.

   Sample Answer

I was recommended to check out Third Smoke, the all male multi-instrumentalist Dundalk 5 piece. They filled the stage, well turned out in black attire. Their sound was that of a modern ballad, long chords and strong punchy drums yet uplifting and danceable, not a slow waltz. Vocal harmonies swapped about and dropped into punchy rock riffs,  the energy building throughout the set but never exploding, always tempered and channeled with some held back for a future encore.

   Third Smoke

Dusk now as I cross the site. The crowds are constantly milling about swapping and exchanging members, laughter across the green, incense on the breeze. Bunoscionn singing about wanting to be a stoned hippie, their sound rumbling and throbbing around the arena.

I had to nip back to the tent in crew camp and from this far corner of the site I could hear 'Black Svan', pounding and powerful on the main stage. I hurriedly got what I needed and headed down to the main stage. The members of the band played hard amidst the smoke and lights. Savage and sailing and heavy as you like, they have a fantastic contemporary heavy rock sound which delighted me.

  Black Svan

I wandered up to the woodland Golden Plec stage to see Elephant, everyone sat on the slope chatting and ready to be spellbound. A few songs in and the chatter continued, some unwilling to be bound, while others happily went under. The duo played my favourite cover of 'Dancing in the Moonlight' with its looped finger clicks backboning the track. I got chatting to the lads after the show and helped them lug gear back up to the van. Tiredness overcame me and I settled into my sleeping bag as the Hot Sprockets lifted the roof on the main stage.

  Elephant performing ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’

Saturday now and the mood is low. Kept awake by people who think camping is for socialising, (seriously, the field is essentially a big bedroom, tents afford little sonic insulation and there's a WHOLE FESTIVAL happening to go and chat at, but no, your pokey tent is totally the session capital of crew camping). and of course the only way to sing when playing guitar at 2 in the morning is at the top of your lungs. Eventually I must have slept as I woke up in the turgid oven that the tent becomes once the first rays of light peep over the perimeter ditch. Walking down to the busy production area to de-skank myself at a sink I find that the water has been shut off (burst main in Drogheda), and that I've also missed breakfast. I went to take some shots of the kids playing in the sunshine of the walled garden and it lifted my mood a bit. 

There was a real carnival feel down there, within the walled garden an Alice in Wonderland themed popup tea party was entertaining the children with lawn croquet, face painting and circus skills. Entertainers showed off magic tricks and juggling, parents sat by prams, dozed in the shade, friendly dogs panted in the heat. After this I headed up to eat at the car, and went to the new ViP bar (previously kitchen, another new installation to discover) and set myself up to edit some photos before heading down to the arena, intermittently chatting with Phil the barman and half listening to the stories and conversations of people dropping in for a pre-show tipple.

in case anyone got confused

The small wash area behind the bar with it's unique side light, as the 4pm sun hit the structure opposite, and reflected horizontally through the small kitchen sink, softly and cinematically sidelighting anyone who went to wash a plate or fill a kettle. 

    Anto

Fangclub are a no nonsense straight up grunge influenced 3-piece rock. Solid and sweaty, as Paul McLoone said 'for anyone who doesn't remember this sound the first time round'. And that's not a bad thing. It's a good sound! And they do it so damn well. At the end of the set Stephen (lead vox) placed the thrumming guitar gently on the stage and left with a wave, the other members filing off after him. Backstage Kevin the sparky  was 'fancying up' Badly Drawn Boy's caravan, (i.e. giving him leccy).

   Fangclub

Kevin fancying up the VW Main Stage

The arena outside the main stage was like a public park, people sitting in groups on the grass, families, friends, couples and kids, people with dogs, coolers, sun umbrellas and picnics blankets. The lack of seating in the arena meant there was no real 'natural' gathering spot, people were quite evenly distributed in loose clots depending on how close to music, food or shade as they wanted to be. I went to redeem my crew food voucher at the Firestone Stage. Seating was a commodity and people swarmed over them, I ended up sitting back to back with a friendly stranger as I ate my vegan dinner, our derriers taking a half each of the tyre converted to a seat.

    Tasty food served here

  Beaulieu House overlooking the main arena

The weekend had a similar vibe to continental open air street music festivals, moreso than the often experienced in-a-tent-with-music way. I guess the good weather affords us that option, to sun and chat or dance in the shade, rather than just hiding from the rain. A real Lifestyle festival, all different lifestyles coming together, camper van enthusiasts, classic vehicle lovers, music enthusiasts, families...

I caught the end of Elm filling the wooded glade with their sweet sound and the crowd sat attentively on logs on  the inclined forest clearing, as the evening sun slanted through the trees.

Coming back across to the VW main stage Mutefish's trad infused wash of sound played to a small crowd within the tent, a larger crowd still sitting out in the last of the day's sun. A few songs later and the tent was full of bopping and swaying bodies and the group of madmen played just as hard as they had been.

I accompanied Amy as she went down amongst the campervans, as she went about collecting the last of the money for campers using the hookups. Children ran and screamed and tumbled in the flattened long grass, people sitting by their vehicles in deckchairs, happy to chat and pass the time; “With the craic down here it's hard to leave and go see music.” A few minutes later another camper enthusiast eulogised about how great the festival is, how good a time they're having, the kids area “that's worth the ticket price alone” and how this is the highlight of the summer.

Later I found myself at the top of the site again, but the main house. Reunions on the path crossing the main lawn; bumping into Victor and his daughter who I'd met at the very first Vantastival I attended.

  Victor and daughter playing with the huge chimes

I caught a bit of Badly Drawn Boy and bumped into The King Kong Company lads backstage getting ready to come on with their extended soundcheck, Stress and Tom surrounded by gear side of stage, deftly poking screwdrivers into unknown pieces of equipment. 

Maddog was here, adding credence to the rumours of the grand finale, a descent from the top of the tent on ropes, Jolly Roger flags flying as King Kong Comapany played below. As the crowd within the tent sang along to to Badly Drawn boy Maddog was laying out his ropes in preparation for this spectacle, then someone came over and had a word in his ear. I saw the change on his face as planning turned to disappointment and figured I'd best point my camera elsewhere. For good or for ill the call had been made. He unhappily complied, and began wrapping his ropes back up.

 I went in to take a few shots of Badly Drawn boy, the crowd enamoured as he played the hits. He had the look of a man thoroughly bored, his playing spot on, but felt polished and perfunctory, without spontaneity and fun. Maybe this is part of the stage persona, perhaps inside he's elated, I don't know. The crowd were loving it though, and that's the main thing.

After Sunset I went to take some long exposures and joiners of the Woodland, Goldenplec stage and Firestone stage. I could hear King Kong Company starting up so I finished what I was doing and crossed the field. The lights strobed out from the open edges of the main tent dense with people, shadows thrown long on the green area leading up to it. I came around the back and started shooting. Chimping the shots I thought 'wow, that stage smoke is really dense'. I looked up and saw only a light haze hanging on the stage, and turning my camera round I realised my front element had totally fogged up with the humidity of many bodies dancing. A few wipes and 10 minutes later we were good to go again.

King Kong Company just go from strength to strength, and that's not just hometown bias. They add new costumes, sequences, visuals and audience interactions.Standing at the side of  stage I struggled to not stand in Trish's way as she changed for the next setup, a giant eyeball, monkey mask and a suit, crash-test-dummy.

  Trish coming off stage as Maddog waits for his time

My Vater earplugs, (best investment I ever made) protected my hearing but my insides turned to wobbly jelly passing the speaker stack at the front. (I wonder about the longterm effects of this vibrating environment on the lens elements..) The band danced and jived in the dense smoke, struck through by lights, backlit then strobing. A low red wash between tracks, blackout for visuals then an atomic blast of warm tungsten light as the next track kicks in.

 Maddog came bounding on stage in a crocheted balaclava and hairy overcoat, pirate flag in hand amidst the dense fog and light mix as they finished out the festival in spectacular fashion. The crowd screamed out for more encores which they didn't get, and eventually dispersed happy and cheerful.

"Get...Down...Get...Down...” 

Later, back at the ViP bar, Maddogs grinning phisog could be glimpsed atop an accordion through a wedge shaped gap in the crowd that gathered around one of the long dining tables to watch people play. Looking around I also glimpsed Rob and Todd, as well as a few others, the musicians together in a small pool of light beneath a single bulb, walled by swaying happy bodies. The floor wet with slopped pints and smeared traces of muck. The gentle jostle as people passed to and from the bar. 

Standing at the bar a fella comes up, orders 3 points, turns to me and says 'one of them is for you' says to the barman 'and one of them is for you', takes his drink and disappears into the night.

the woodland area at night

That night in the bar was loads of craic; conversation and nutters abounded, dancing and jiving, shunting and drinking. A singer rapped to a 5 piece acoustic group, music drifted from trad, to acoustic folk, to ska, and back again. Some members from earlier having swapped out, now a double bass, cahón, and trumpet. This was the arrangement until dawn with the trumpet player not letting anyone rest for long. They stopped intermittently, fresh pints laid in front of each, shoulders slumped and faces tired, bewildered, as the trumpet's bright brass cut through the chatter and the  members looked on in apparent disbelief before begrudgingly joining in for another few rounds.

7am and my compatriots had hit the hay, I decided to do a quick clean-up of my immediate vicinity.  Though mostly just empty cans and plastic cups, the fanciest litter I found was a half empty champagne flute beneath a manicured tree beside an old arched stone gateway to the 1800's graveyard. Coming back to the vacated bar I found Yvonne and Benny cleaning the kitchen and Bar area, a neat stack of empty poly-kegs out the rear door, binbags full of refuse stacked and waiting to go, the floor swept, beer evaporated, music silenced. The last die-hards sitting in the new day outside. I passed Louise in the site office, an early start (or maybe a late night) overseeing the dismantling of the weekend's fun.

Walking back to the car, past the security guard and the 2 cheeky robins who visited him, I swear I have stink lines coming off me.. I fixed myself a snack, and was visited by a friendly unnamed hound begging for scraps.

   ‘Heeeeey’

Happily we'd parked in the shade of a tree. I hung some blankets and t-shirts in the car to block out the day and slept in the passenger seat for 2 or 3 hours. I was awoken by a phonecall to re-submit different images for the Times cover (sounds awesome right? It wasn’t, they didn’t use any of them) so I went and sorted that out. My office was significantly less fancy this mauldy morning, a picturesque windowledge by a portaloo within wi-fi range.

We broke down, packed up, said a few goodbye's en-route and hit the road. We passed through Drawda (as Jack Cody's Brewery would say), under a viaduct silhoutted by hazey afternoon sun, dense black smoke billowing from a flaming car on the street, through some estates (sat nav takes any opportunity to lead us through us through a leafy council suburb) and then out onto the motorway. We pulled in at the lusk services with their endless running water and tea on demand and I felt even more filthy for the cleanliness of my surround. Sitting in the car munching a heavenly triple decker ploughmans and a muffin, I looked up to have my vista of carpark and trees filled with the side of a caravan that had parked in the spaces in front of us. 

The long drive back to Waterford was filled with the post match analysis, discussing the huge mix of emotions and events that come with big gatherings of people. The crowd was friendlier, the sun was shinier, and the line-up was a best-of from the past 6 years of festival fun and it soon felt like home. The pastel sunset filled the sky, and soon the silhouette of the new bridge could be seen as we approached the edge of home. The scale back was a good call, a smaller Vantastival this year, with less of everything and more to go round.

Another thing to come out of this weekend was helping to decide on new equipment, whether to go for another cropped sensor (7D mkII) or maybe the full frame 5D mkIII that I so utterly fell in love with while shooting 'Sisters' earlier this year out at the Arthand in Bunmahon. Several times during the weekend, particularly whilst lying on the ground in front of the mainstage,  I found myself thinking “If only I could just get a little further back...”...I think the fullframe is the way to go, get the most out of my 24-70mm Tamron and then throw my new 70-200 on the 7D and I think that's me well covered. [EDIT I’ve since re-thunk this after seeing the MK3′s low burst fire rate and the 7D mkII is back in the ring...decisions decisions]

Strange now after just a few days, to not have the distant din and the scenic vistas in every direction. No unscheduled encounters with site dogs (probably spent as much time talking to any dogs I encountered as I did people) and the smell of pine mulch rising with every step under a shimmering green canopy. But on the other hand, shower, bed, and a wall somewhat good at repelling sound.

The super @Vantastival is gearing up for another brilliant year #irishmusic #festival #festivalseason

Vantastival line-up announcement

Vantastival is not only back, but it is bigger and better than ever; the venue change having no impact on its fantastic line-up.

In fact, this independent festival is so jam packed with delicious home grown talent there’s no excuse to not go.

With Ceol Caint favourites The Hot Sprockets, King Kong Company, Fiach Moriarty and Naoise Roo, plus busking legends…