Glastonbury, Big Blue, and The Big Green

by Jacquelynn Kathleen

England's Music Festivals

     Nick, had boasted about England's Music Festivals many times. In 1997 he invited me to England to experience them myself. We were to attend the Glastonbury Music Festival and The Big Green Gathering, camping for many days at each festival. Glastonbury dubbed -the field of dreams- by the official program, sounded exotic and romantic. I envisioned beautiful, gorgeous, and sunny summer days, walking through fields of lush vegetation, sitting up on warm nights looking at the stars and experiencing some great music.
     However, things did not turn out exactly the way I expected.
     Dave Goodman, of the band New Age Radio and Nick's partner at Mandala Records in England, hired him to work at the festival. This year he was to drive some members of Tenkoo Orchestra (a new age Japanese Band), The Space Goats (a pixie English Festival Band), and their instruments to the three-day festivals. We left London Thursday morning, June 26th, heading for Glastonbury's Green Futures Field, in two vehicles. Ruth, a sometime Space Goat, drove most of the people in her old British Rail Bus. Nick drove an old VW Panel Van with some of the people and all of the instruments. We had purchased the van, "The Big Blue F*ck" for the trip. So named because upon first seeing it, Nick yelled, "Not that big blue f*cking thing."
     Four passengers were sitting on cushions in the middle of Big Blue: Yasuhiro and Kenji of Tenkoo, Kenji's wife Terimi, and Krishmael of Space Goats. Members of Tenkoo spoke English, but they had limited understanding. The four of them played music while we traveled. It was wonderful to watch the musicians communicate with each other without the need of language.

Waiting

     As the hours passed, Kris, Nick and I talked about the possibility of our getting in without our performance passes. Tenkoo had their passes, but tickets for the Space Goats and us" roadies" had not arrived in time.
     "We'll get in, don't worry," Nick said.
     "The note from Dave (their music producer and agent, Dave Goodman) should work. They should accept that. Right?" Kris asked.
     "For Christ's sake, stop worrying, " Nick said.
     As we idled behind the half-mile-long line of trucks and vans waiting to get in the vendor and artist's entrance, Nick asked Kenji, "Could I see your ticket?"
     Kenji looked at us with surprise and answered, "Hiroki have." Hiroki, their bandleader, occupied a seat in the other bus, which we had passed hours ago.
     Kris and I looked quickly at Nick, but he didn't say anything.
     As we inched closer to the entrance, the stern-faced Scottish and Welsh festival officials, at each checkpoint, exhorted us, "Do not proceed without tickets." And others asked, "Do you all have your tickets?"
     "I hope we get in," I said to the hard-faced driver seated next to me. I looked back at Kris and could tell that he shared my fears. My secret fear was that everyone else would get in but me. Nick and the others, at least, had verifiable positions; I merely sat as a passenger in the van. "I guess I should have tried to buy a ticket," I mumbled to Nick.
     Kenji, Yasuhiro, and Terimi didn't participate in our conversation; they sat quietly waiting. I could feel their eyes checking with each of us. They got it.
     "This continual rain doesn't help," Kris said.
"Why is this line going so slow?" I asked. It seemed to me that we were just creeping along on the muddy roadway. It took at least an hour to get near the front of the line.
     Finally we arrived at the front gatehouse needing to hand over those precious tickets. Kris and I both were full of suggestions about what to say to the officials. He made a move to get out of the van.
    "Everyone stay in the van and keep your mouths shut. I'll handle it," Nick said. "I can get us in, don't worry about it. Just don't say anything and we'll be fine." I've seen Nick negotiate these kinds of entries before. I could tell he was confident of his ability, but was afraid that one of us would say something stupid.

The Blag

     So he rolled down the window to talk to the man taking shelter inside the building, a few feet away from us. "Our performance passes were not delivered in time. We have a note from Dave Goodman indicating that the people listed should be allowed in," He said.
Top     I could tell by the wearied look on the man's face that we were not the first group to try to blag our way through the gates. "You can call Sam, in charge at the Green Futures Field to check our story," Nick said.
     The man sighed then said, "All right, pull over off the road and wait." That was something we did not want to do. We had seen other vehicles have problems in that ooze off the beaten pathway. We were afraid that the van's wheels would sink in the wet earth. But we had no choice.
Top     So we waited. Nick had slogged his way back to the ticket booth after about 30 minutes. "Sam's walking around," he explained to our questioning faces as hoisted himself back up in the driver's seat.
     And we waited some more. "What time?" I asked Terimi after more time had passed.
     "Half three," she responded in the English manner of indicating three-thirty. "One hour," she added.
     I looked longingly at the outhouses and then at the endless flow of water rolling down the van's windows. Kris, on his dulcimer and Yasuhiro, on his sitar had launched into a musical exploration of each other's talents. Nick proceeded to clean the mud off his boots. Kenji picked up his flute.
     "Half four," Terimi said to Nick, prompting him to climb out and trudge back to the gatehouse.
     When he returned and pulled open the door, his face was a blank. "We're in," he said as he started up Big Blue's engine. By this time the other bus had shown up and we all headed for the Green Futures Field, our home for the next five days.
    Top

Welcome to Glastonbury!

The weather, wet and cloudy for the last few days with no foreseeable stoppage in sight, proved to be a dream bandit. My joy at getting in soured at the sight of the grounds -more like a field of streams. Extremely slippery at spots, the slushy roads caused Big Blue to spin her wheels. The mud-thickened areas pulled her into suck holes. At the final climb up to the field, she just bogged down and stopped. No way to succeed without us pushing. Tenkoo had already gotten out and walked to the site, so that left Kris and me. I donned my borrowed "wellies" and we got her and Nick, the driver, up the hill unscathed. Kris and I on the other hand received a shower from the muck freely shooting up from the flap-less tires. When he saw us, Nick laughed and exclaimed "Welcome to Glastonbury!" Top

Before the Crowds

     Once settled, Nick and I ventured out to investigate the festival. The rain had stopped by now, but the quagmire was so thick and so deep that we couldn't go anywhere without wellies. I had to buy a pair for œ15 (about $22.00), as well as a raincoat, for another œ10. We worked our way past a few of the six music stages, still being constructed. We watched while workers rigged up high wire trapezes for one of the three circus areas. Later we climbed up to the Sacred Space to see the stone circle. People were sitting on, by, or hugging the stones in an attempt to achieve a spiritual experience. It was incredibly peaceful. The sky, like silver studs on black velvet, was beautiful.
     It was the day before the start of the festival, but most of the beer and wine tents were already up and running. So we explored a field and then stopped at a bar, before continuing on to our next destination. Hot cider was a good foil to the chilly night air.

Festival Spirit

 Top    During the next five days we explored most of the "city" (for that weekend the 800 acres of the Glastonbury Festival Field is the largest in the county of Somerset). It took a lot of work to get around, so much that my thigh muscles ached, but they were in great shape by the end of it. My wellies were a little too big for me so I had to pull hard to get my foot, with boot intact, out of the mire to continue forward. A couple of times I got stuck and fell on my hands into the muck. Other places were seas of mud, very slippery. Nick slid and nearly fell about ten times, but he was proud that he never went down. Watching mud spills or close calls was one the favorite pastimes of the festival participants.
Top     On setting off to see Ray Davies at the Pyramid Stage that Saturday afternoon, we figured that we had plenty of time to make the 4:00 show. After forty-five minutes of slogging through mud up to our knees we arrived to hear him graciously say, "Thank you very much."

 

    

 Music was everywhere .We saw music at the main stages - Sting and Van Morrison at the Pyramid Stage, Joolz Holland at the Cabaret Tent, and Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel at the Acoustic Stage. We also saw lots of bands performing at the smaller stages positioned around the many different theme fields. Unfortunately we went to sleep each night with the sound of a drum machine from the Dance Tent pounding until 4 or 5 in the morning. We walked through their tent one night just to see what all the fuss was about. It was a mass of people raving, so we quickly extricated ourselves. Almost as hard as maneuvering through the mud!
     Of course we saw our own bands in the Green Fields-The Space Goats, Tenkoo, and Dave and Kathy's New-Age Radio. The Green Fields are powered with alternative energy sources, solar screens, or pedal power. Nick, Dave, Kathy, and I all pedaled to spark the sound for Dr. Space Toad and Captain Sensible at the Rainbow Dragon Stage.
Top     Besides the numerous performers, there were acres of artisans eager to teach or ply their art. Nick learned how to make and then to play a didgeridoo (Australian Aboriginal instrument). I got a Shiatsu Massage. We watched a man make an axe and then chop wood with it. There was a camping area dedicated to tipi structures and many teachers burning to furnish you with the necessary skills to build one.
     One chilly evening we stopped at the film tent, spread out our garbage bags on the soggy ground and watched "Withnail And I," a 1987 English Film. Those garbage bags they kept handing out for garbage came in very handy. They mainly got used as raincoats; or they were taped around feet to act as boots, or for ground cover as we used them. I never did make it to one of the three indoor acting theatres, but we did see some great street performances. Another night we saw some impressive trapeze acts.

Festival Provisions

Top

     The food and the beer were amazing, considering the difficulties the vendors had with the wet and primitive conditions. I love England's bitter and most of the beer tents managed to pull a pretty decent plastic glass of the stuff. There was a variety of truly good grub coming out of the dozens of restaurants, including many ethnic and vegetarian choices. Breakfast joints would offer the traditional English Breakfast - fried eggs, sausage and/or bacon, toast, fried tomatoes, baked beans. Vegetarians were able to get this with vegetarian sausage or sautéed mushrooms.
     You could buy "anything you want" from the vendors. Also, wandering bootleg salespeople hawked, "hash cakes, shrooms, Special Brew, backy, wellies!" Dark alley operations in campers and buses provided some delicious homemade beer and wine.
     There were even elaborate shower facilities. I just couldn't talk myself into getting out of my mud thickened clothes, stripping down in the cold air and partaking of a solar shower, only to get muddy again. It was nice to know that they were there though. There were also plenty of toilets. The theme fields had fashioned some pretty creative "green" outhouses.

Top

England's Festival Circuit

     Over the course of those five days, Nick and some of the Space Goats educated me about England's festival circuit. "Many vendors and artists spend the entire summer roaming from festival to festival," one of the Space Goats said.
     "Yeah they can set up camp, a week before the event. Then spend another week, or more, before departing for the next site," another one added.
     In our walks around I noticed that people constructed elaborate homes, some of them planted flowers, or created sculptures made of found objects to adorn the outside of their dwellings. I realized that to simply call them music festivals denies the existence of a whole village filled with events and services dedicated to these weekends.
     "This place really amazes me," I said to Nick one morning. I was having one of the best times of my life. Most of the more than 100,000 other guests also appeared to be really enjoying themselves. "Let me read what Andrew Male says in the Programme about Glastonbury," I said. "It's still the only festival in the world that's more important than any of the bands who play, no matter how big they are."
     He responded, "Yeah, remember what I said when we heard that Dylan had pulled out, 'It doesn't matter.' I don't just come here for the music."
     I asked Nick about the Big Green Gathering, "Is it just as good?"
     "You're going to really like it. It's a lot smaller and newer, but it's nicer, more laid back. There are many impromptu jam sessions, as well as the scheduled performances. All the food is vegetarian. No bars though; you have to bring in your own alcohol."
     He further explained, "The Green Futures Field is like a miniature Big Green Gathering. At the Big Green, only alternative methods of power can be used on the entire festival site."

On the Way to the Big Green

     That next month we were on our way to the Big Green Gathering. Setting off from London for the Salisbury Plain, we embarked in good spirits. This time we had only three passengers: Matt and Krishmael of Space Goats, and Tom the tabla player. Big Blue's rear compartment, separated by a horizontal wooden house door, contained the instruments - a lap dulcimer, a harp, a lute, a didgeridoo, Indian Tablas, a mandolin, a sitar, our bags, beer, wine, and a large geodesic dome tent.
     Resting casually on Big Blue's dashboard, our tickets guaranteed our easy entry.
Big Blue
     Big Blue was riding rough - overheating and missing. After we had traveled the motorway for an hour we knew that things weren't right. Finally, we pulled over at a layby to let her cool and get a cup of tea at the stand located off the road. We piled out of the van.
     I walked around to the other side, looking in through driver's open door. The engine, seated between the two front seats, was smoking! I yelled, "We're on fire." The shocked faces of the others slowly came alive. Then we all ran to the back of the van and quickly liberated everything we could.
     Having saved the instruments and backpacks, we then started pulling out the dome tent poles. We managed to get about half of the 65 poles out before the flames started pushing us back. With Matt leading, he and Nick went back in to rescue the canvas dome. After they retrieved the tent, all bystanders pleaded with them to stop because it was getting too dangerous. Hearing a loud pop, I suddenly recalled the new air mattress that Nick and I had found abandoned in the Glastonbury mud.
     Now separated by Big Blue, burning in the middle of the layby, the five of us watched her die. Nick, Tom, and Matt positioned at her front; Kris and I held vigil at the back. As her electrical system expired, Nick and the others observed the lights flash on and off, as if to say good-bye.
     The fire had exhausted itself by the time the fire truck finally arrived. The fire fighters hosed her down and did their firemanly duties.
     Matt said to Nick, "Man, I can't believe how cool you are about this. Most people would be yelling and screaming if their van just burned up."
     Nick just replied, "Hey, the most important thing is the people. Everyone's okay and we saved the instruments." Then he suddenly looked over at me grimaced and said, "Where were our tickets?"
     "On the dashboard," I replied.
     "Well, they're gone now."
Top     Nick and I obtained a ride from a lorry driver into town and rented another van to get everyone to the festival. Scheduled to play that late afternoon, Kris, Matt and Tom were anxious that we get them there.

Blag #2

     At the gate to The Big Green, another weary official listened to our plight about a lack of tickets. At least this time, we looked the part - everyone covered in black soot, the back of the van filled with charred poles. Sam, again, verified our eligibility for entrance.
     We had made it there. They made their gig. We were there watching Matt, Kris, and Tom all clean from a solar shower, playing their beautiful music. After a few songs, Matt looked in our direction and announced to the audience, "A funny thing happened to us on the way to the festival..."

Details

     Glastonbury Music Festival is held at the end of June. The festival is held on Michael and Jean Eavins' Worthy Farm in Shepton Mallet. Out of London you would take the M3 to the A303, proceeding on to the A371, then follow the vehicles. This year the event will be held on June 28th through the 30th. Tickets have been sold out for months.
     The Big Green Gathering is usually held at the last weekend of July on the Salisbury Plain. Again you would take the M3 from London to the A303 then follow the signs to the site. I'm not sure this event is happening this year; I couldn't find and information.

The articles and websites were created by Jacquelyn Wells of Way With Words.biz 2002

 

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