Modern life isn’t a place where you feel safe. The world is awash with danger, whether orange-faced troublemakers taking over a world power, or late-night visitors trying to break into your camper van.
Everywhere you go, you find yourself thinking about safety. Walking down the street, I check that my phone is in my pocket after walking past a group of youths. When we eat our dinner, my wife locks the back door. When the postman comes, I await the letterbox rattling, fearful I might have been sent more hate mail in the form of Reform flyers.
Safety. A priority, but often something we work harder at than we realise.
Back in 2002, I stood on a hill at Temple Newsam in Leeds, watching portaloos burn and people rioting through a festival field. That wasn’t for me. I am a music fan, but violence? That didn’t fit with the images of peace and love I’d grown up yearning for at my festivals. Aside from a couple of forays, it was the end of my festival odyssey. In 1998, we had our tents ransacked at the same event, and I never truly felt safe from then on.
Enter Ey Up Mi Duck.
I felt safe from the moment I arrived until the second my wheels left the site. Not just personally, but I left my brand new Ninja cool box out at the side of my van, full of beers, all weekend. I never worried it wouldn’t be there when I returned, or that even a single beer would be missing. If I made eye contact with someone, I never feared it would result in anything other than a hello.
This is my festival vibe, and along with Gig in a Field, this is where I want to experience my music.
Friday
Of course, you go to a festival for the music, but in the case of Ey Up Mi Duck, mainstream eyes probably don’t find much to pique interest. If you’re after the latest chart act or Tik Tok sensation, then you’re looking in the wrong place. If you’re after a band that was record of the week on BBC Radio Cumbria once, then you’re in luck.
I thought Friday was a tough gig to get, people arriving late, but the top three acts were outstanding and the tents busy. One that I was eager to see again were Voodoo Radio, a father and daughter combo from Barrow in Furness who fizzle with on-stage chemistry. Their banter is brilliant, the lively Paige setting her Dad Tony up as the butt of the jokes. I love bands that have something other than good tracks, and Voodoo Radio have it.
They have some great songs as well. As Paige says, they don’t write about ‘owt deep’ but they do produce catchy hooks and singable moments. I’m a huge fan of Pretty Boy, and Ice Cream Van is perfect for a festival sing-along.
After the talented Jake Martin, a singer-songwriter who feels like the staple genre of Ey Up Mi Duck’s offering, came a singer-songwriter, Jack Kendrick. I know Jack a little; he did my mate Dave’s wedding, and he’s something of a rising talent. Along with his band, he was the headline act and like Voodoo Radio before him, there’s personality on stage to complement the music. Untold Truths is something of an anthem, which his Mum knows as the Freddie Mercury song. I also like the Love and Hate song, but like Jack’s Mum, I’m not sure of the official title.
Saturday
‘It’s all about Saturday’ said my mate Dave. Not the Dave from the wedding, Dave my festival buddy this weekend. This was a big weekend, Friday to Sunday, for me because I was out of my comfort zone. It was my first in my camper van, and the first time I’d spend some time alone. I also usually do gigs with Dave (wedding) and Chris, but neither could come, so it was just me and the other Dave, who planned on leaving early for work.
You can never have too many Daves….
I vowed for my write-up I’d pick two acts from each day, but Dave was right – Saturday was banging and I couldn’t possibly go without mentioning a handful. After bacon, my first butties cooked in the van, we made our way to the event, via the toilets. Saturday morning toilets? Spotless. I even felt safe opening any of the loo doors, knowing that not only are they kept clean by the festival staff, but also by fellow patrons. It’s called respect, and at Ey Up Mi Duck, everyone respects everyone else.
I was excited for Olivia Rose, on at 11:30 am. There’s a Spotify playlist with songs from all the artists on, and Olivia’s song Nowhere Like Home really grabbed my ears and forced its way in. She’s got a uniquely engaging voice, and I love a good female vocal with an acoustic guitar. I don’t know why, it just floats my boat. She didn’t disappoint and had a good set of songs; Anthony and Rosemary, written about her grandparents, is poignant and relatable. She performed with her brother (proud Mum in the audience) and was so good, I checked them out in the acoustic tent a little later on in the day, just to hear Nowhere Like Home again.
There were so many good bands, and the music came thick and fast. There’s a stage at either end of the tent, so as soon as one finished, another came on. Smiling Ivy was a highlight on Saturday, with a ska-based set list that showed flashes of other influences as well. I’d noticed a couple of their tracks on the playlist, but live, they were a different class.
The day wore on, and I got fatter. Why? Well, obviously beer, but also the fine array of food on offer. By the end of the day Saturday, I’d had sausage chips and curry sauce, a smash burger and a jerk chicken wrap (at different times). I saved Wallace and Dough’s pizza for Sunday, as I knew I wouldn’t be as drunk and believe me, they’re worth savouring. There’s such a great array of food, I didn’t even try the waffles or Korean noodles. In fact, I barely looked around the different stalls as well, and I wish I had. The music came thick and fast, though, and I love music, only a smidgin more than food.
I clearly love a song about home because, as always, Jess Silk delivered a moment on Saturday afternoon. Jess has a great voice and she’s a confident performer who could make your weekly shopping list sound intense and from the heart. Home is Where The Heart Is gets me every time, but it’s not the only song on her set that demands a listen. We’re seeing Jess support Levellers and Bar Stool Preachers in Scarborough in July, and Jess will be a great way to kick off the gig. Of course, she’s a female vocalist with an acoustic guitar, but there’s something in Jess’s vocals that sets her apart, something real and lived.
Then, for me, came the best slot of the weekend, 7 pm on the Saturday, where those with kids are saying ‘one more act’ before bed. When everyone is well oiled and up for a big one. Nobody is flagging, and the music takes over. Who got that slot? Gaz Brookfield, and that man always delivers.
Gaz is a favourite of ours (Wedding Dave and Chris). We saw him at Wroot earlier in the year, and we caught him at the Engine Shed a few years ago. He writes great songs, and every time I see him on stage, he seems to get better and better. I’m not sure that is the case; he’s always been great. In fact, I got into this ‘scene’, if it’s such a thing, through a certain gateway – I went to see Levellers supported by Ferocious Dog and Gaz. From then on, I’ve tumbled into this rabbit hole of outstanding acts bubbling away under the pop culture radar, with Gaz one of the main ones. He has a really popular song, Better Man, but there’s so much more depth to his set list. If you like the sound of an acoustic guitar and powerful, intense vocals, Gaz is your man.
By the time 3 Daft Monkeys and Headsticks performed, I was half past spangled, and spent the final moments of the headline set in my chair watching the world spin. The tent was heaving for Headsticks, and people just milled around. I got chatting to King Ron, a popular figure across the festival scene, walking around wearing his crown and carrying a staff. It’s such a festival story it seems fitting to end Saturday that way.
That isn’t actually how it ended. Dave and I stumbled back to the van, smashed a massive bag of crisps and some biscuits and talked drunken shit to each other for a bit before passing out in our vans. That’s the Saturday night festival experience, though. right?
Sunday
Sunday morning, and yet again, the toilets were immaculate. The sun shone bright, as it had all weekend, and a few heavy heads got carried around the site. It felt a little more chilled on Sunday, perhaps because Dave was leaving early and eased off the beer, or perhaps because I’m 46 and a third day on it felt like a chore.
I had my Wallace and Dough pizza for lunch (outstanding, by the way) but found myself going to water rather than my beers after 3 p.m. I tried a couple of Staropramen from the bar; both took a bit of forcing down. Incidentally, I pay less for a Staropramen and IPA at Ey Up Mi Duck than in town watching the Imps on a match day.
The day flew by. I think the speed of the acts turning around helps, and I did get to check out the pallet stage (literally, a pallet), where many of the younger festival goers turned their hand to performing. I enjoyed a cover of 4 Non Blondes What’s Up as I walked past. The whole vibe was just fun, loads of cool people doing their own thing.
Did I talk to a lot of different people? Not really, because I do struggle with that. Dave’s a bit more outgoing, but I just enjoyed being there, knowing nobody was judging, nobody was there with the wrong intention. I’d say it’s all about the music, but it’s not. It’s about the people, they come together because the music is on, but I see many of the same faces at Wroot gigs, and at Gig in a Field. It’s beginning to feel a bit like the Olivia Rose song, Nowhere Like Home, as she sings about walking into a pub and everyone knowing your name. Walking around Ey Up Mi Duck, I knew so many faces, and it just felt comfortable. it felt safe. I just always feel uncomfortable initiating conversations with strangers, or friends I’ve yet to meet at these events.
Surely, a rapper would take the edge off the safety? No, but Samantics did put something very different into my weekend. He’s a guy I hadn’t seen before this weekend, but will absolutely check out again. His performance had so much energy it could have powered a small town, and his frantic segues from songs were almost as entertaining as the lyrics themselves. His traffic warden song is hilarious, but Samantics is no novelty act. He’s talented.
He uses his instruments to set up loops and backing vocals right in front of you, and slowly builds his songs. I say ‘slowly’ but that’s not true, I don’t think he does anything slow. He’s frantic and yet incredibly talented. He spits lyrics with such confidence, mirroring the skills of many famous rappers. He builds his songs with skill across his instruments (ukulele, not a banjo) and keeps you engrossed while he is doing it. I’m going to be bold and say he was my favourite act of the weekend, edging the others I’ve mentioned.
The final three acts on Sunday were all big, and I feel perhaps Pet Needs and The Cloverhearts suffered a little from being last. By the time the latter came on, much of the campsite was empty, as people set off on their journey home. They missed two big acts, both worthy of a headline slot, with the tent feeling more spacious. The inimitable Nick Parker was the one artist it did not feel spacious for.
I wrote about Nick before, but there’s something about his manner that is just likeable. He feels down-to-earth, a self-deprecating figure not afraid to poke a bit of fun around. He joked that he’s been at every single Ey Up Mi Duck ‘playing the same songs’ over and over. Sure, it’s a jest, but when your songs are as good as his, why not?
He has a great range, from the amusing (Down With The Yoof) to the outrageously poignant (Living Again). It was while listening to Nick that I realised something. All of today’s so-called ‘big’ acts, the stadium fillers, the indie legends, have good tracks, but so do the guys on this circuit. It’s not underground, that would do them a disservice; they’re just undiscovered to an extent. These guys are on the bill of festivals up and down the land, week in, week out. They make their living through graft, merch and live shows, and I respect their work ethic as much as their musical ability. Their talent, in my opinion, is no different to the songs you hear on the radio (not Radio One, it’s shit) every day. The difference is you just haven’t found them yet.
When I mention many of the acts I’ve seen in the pub, I often get a ‘never heard of them’. Well, you should make it your mission to hear from them. You should make it your mission to listen to Living Again by Nick, and understand he wrote it after the loss of his mother. You should make the effort to look up Jess Silk, Voodoo Radio and Samantics.
In fact, there were others I really liked who I haven’t mentioned; Blake Cateris was good fun, Common Culture, The Endings, Brian Stone and the Masters of None, and Darwin’s Rejects all appealed as well. I couldn’t see all of the bands, and I feel like there was such a rich vein of entertainment I left untapped, through no fault of my own.
Dave left after Nick Parker and I ambled about, said a few uncomfortable hellos to people, and caught some of the headline acts. I tried to reignite my weekend with another Staropramen and lay on the field, watching the world go by. By the time I returned to my van, it was alone in a huge space, still with my (bloody expensive) cool box untouched. I crawled into bed, and at some time in the night, the heavens opened. The rain hammered down on the van, so loud it woke me up.
I lay there, warm and dry, listening to the hellish noise outside, and experienced a live metaphor for the whole weekend. Inside the boundaries of Ey Up Mi Duck, the world outside didn’t matter. We could hear it, sometimes in the anti-establishment messages on stage, other times in the conversations around the site. You can never shut out the worries and stresses of the outside world, but for small chunks of your life, you can feel completely safe. That was this weekend. I heard the noise outside, but it never once bothered me.
So, thank you to the organisers, Neil and Amber, and to everyone at Ey Up Mi Duck. I felt safe for a weekend, among friends I’ve not yet met, surrounded by familiar faces I do not know. I look forward to nervously not saying hello properly at Gig in a Field in August.
PS: Also, the toilets on Monday morning were still immaculate and still had loo roll in them. Makes a change from them being on fire 20 years ago.