So, that's the end of the strimmer (note deadbeat season), which finished with a bit of a flourish. Smallworld's Headcorn was delightful, with Gadjo, Miezlanka and the Boys in the Wood all equally brilliant. Gadjo's Sousaphone could be heard oompah-ing all weekend, never failing to draw a well-deserved and appreciative crowd. The Boys in the Wood were equally indefatigable - they were all over the site like a rash, contributing immeasurably to the general jollity.
The smallworld site crew were, as ever, simply superb. Their wit and wisdom is demonstrated by the sign which went up when the gate finally closed each night - 'Shut Happens'.

Bestival popped up unexpectedly at the last minute (and my faithful Dodge 50 has apparently appeared briefly on TV! Wow!) and, for an eco-unfriendly do, was surprisingly chumbly. Your Intrepid Reporter (YIR in future) mostly ignored the big-name bands (you can see them any week on TV), in favour of seeking out unknown delights and excessive partying. My finds of the weekend were Lunaloop, Jaberwock and The Organ, each of which are well worth going to see.
Overall, there was magic enough generated in the sun on the Isle of Wight to satisfy me, and end the season in style.

What I have learnt is that Pony's Smallworld tent is genuinely a very special venue, generating the magic routinely, night after night, in a way that better resourced (and more profitable) outfits simply cannot match. Yet Pony is wondering if he can pay his rent this winter whilst they are rubbing their hands and having agreeable meetings with bank managers and accountants. Maybe magic and money-making simply can't co-exist. Treasure it when you find it, it's rare indeed.

Overheard at the sound desk No.1:
(during the soundcheck):
Singer (to the sound engineer): Can you turn up the IQ on the drummer, please?
Drummer: And can we have some top-end talent in the singer ?
Clarinet player: And more beer in the monitors
Soundman: I can give you another band entirely in the monitors if you think that'll help.

Deadbeat whinge of the month:
Why is it that people at festivals think it's a good idea to join in with the band, from the audience, with their brand new drum/shaky egg/tambourine - in each case an overridingly loud instrument which needs enormous sensitivity and practise to blend in with the other instruments in a band. But, completely unaware of the thousands of hours of individual practise and hundreds of hours of rehearsal which underpins any proper performance, these tossers think its OK to smear their egos over the finely-wrought subtleties of the prepared piece. If you glare at them they smile back, lost in their own delusional world, assuming that your frown is a beam of approval and encouragement. If you hold a finger to your lips, shake your head or otherwise make your feelings clear you are met with, at best, a disgusted sneer - 'killjoy tosser, stoppin' me groovin with da beat' (or nearly) - and at worst, threats of violence and outbreaks of mayhem. If you want to learn classical tabla you have to study for years and have a true understanding of rhythm and the inter-relationship of the musical parts before you are allowed to touch a drum. The same should be true of all percussion instruments.

Overheard at the sound desk No. 2:
(same soundman, same night, but now it's 5.00 am.
Excuse me, but have you got a stapler?
No, I'm sorry but I am temporarily bereft of all stapling machinery. Likewise,before you ask, I can't help you with an offset litho printer or marinised Volvo Penta engines.

More next month, when the leaves are golden, the days are short and the suicide rate is proportionately higher.

Cheers,

Deadbeat