I don’t envy Anne van Schelle’s postman; a divine house she may have, but tucked away in a remote part of Shropshire even Google Maps has difficulty locating her distinctive but hard-to-reach plot of land is perhaps, like the pipe dream festival she and her family/friends have managed to realise successfully in the past few years, one of Britain’s best-kept secrets.
If you stare at your own patch of green residing round the back of your own home, could you visualise a music festival catering to several hundred taking place there, with its own pop-up pub no less? You’d need a garden just about the size that Elton Hall currently has, I reckon: spacious enough for a modest stage, said pub serving local ale and a few choice fine cuisine tents, with a large field attached for campers and picaresque views a-plenty.
Space for the dozen artists and DJs that would provide the soundtrack for a day and night to chill out and drink all the beer in England – along with a leniency to allow a frenzied journalist to run around rampantly like an excitable dog – are requirements, along with a big dose of luck to ensure that a colossal formation of ominous clouds ready to cleanse the soil beneath the feet of festival-goers would pass right by.
The Firefly Festival – not to be confused with The Firefly Festival – is the kind of event though that would keep right on going whether or not a thunderstorm of near biblical proportions had passed right over it. Firefly (UK) is an intimate thing, and you could sense all around a collective feeling that come rain or shine, fun times would be had and that a grand experience would be shared by the few around lucky enough to be a part of it.
Anne (organiser extraordinaire and the coolest parent ever) was told by some that perhaps the festival should begin with DJs to get the crowd going. There was a moment of confusion spread across my face as she told me this the day after the fact and I connected the dots. Firefly is the embodiment of laid-back during the day that needs mellow not madness; the majority of the ticket holders sat nonchalantly upon the hill facing the stage, watching the first acts cater to the chilled atmosphere, probably wouldn’t have been stirred from their collective serenity by dance-floor dubstep and club tunes.
Songstresses Sophie Scott and Katie Emma were the right choices not just for their individual talents to open the festival festivities – new additions to Firefly was a face-painter and the Elton Arms; parents with pints in hands and kids having animals painted on their faces could sit quietly and enjoy the dulcet sounds emanating from the stage, while new arrivals could saunter casually over or set up their living quarters for the night without the need to be near the action.
People were sitting on sofas in tents looking out at the first bunch of acts; others were enjoying swing ball with occasional glances in the direction of the act complimenting the moment. As ‘baroque pop’ group The Night and the talented Mr. Tom Bradley kept the calm times going, there were still many arriving – a lap round the camp site helped me ascertain that the nonchalance extended to late-comers – and this catered nicely to everyone involved, behind and in front of the scenes.
A lovely touch was seeing previous performers flitting between the backstage tent and the assemblage on and around the hill; a definitive affirmation of the casual state was seeing everyone regardless of festival status hanging out and enjoying things together. I went into ‘investigative journalist’ mode earlier in the day and asked around to see which acts people were looking forward to seeing; I had deduced on the train ride to the nearest town Ludlow that people wouldn’t have heard of most of the line-up (partly because I myself hadn’t until I did my pre-festival research) and it was the case that people who’d paid the very reasonable entry fee were there for the good times. Any new favourites found during the day were a bonus, and it was clear throughout the day as acts and audience became one that fans would be acquired after the fact.
By the time indie rockers The Colour Movement (formerly Caimbo) took to the stage and clearly earned themselves a few album sales, Firefly was in full swing and the liveliest sound thus far was drawing in those who’d hung around the camp site and the outer areas until then. The security staff, previously loitering around the set waiting for something to… secure, looked on excitedly as people gravitated towards the ‘pit’ and began to do the typical festival thing of standing while listening to the live music.
Five-piece indie bunch Carousel followed on with yet another great set and the turning point was found. Charismatic Bruno Charles followed with an exhibition of his powerful vocals, before The Wild Mercury Sound played their last proper set before a crowd that were unaware but gave them a good send-off nonetheless. At this point the sun was going down and with the crowd now pretty much at its fullest, I took a moment to see what kind of demographic Firefly had and accommodated for.
Conclusion? Firefly has a welcome mix, with teens with skinny jeans mixed in amongst content elder folk, giddy children and a sizeable posse of attractive people celebrating a friend’s 30th birthday. The beguiling Kyla La Grange, along with an instantly enamoured crowd, ignored the brief spell of rain and embraced a set which even a initially sceptical metal-loving security guard* I’d pestered for help admitted they liked.
Then came the night in its entirety and a set that hours after several sat around Firefly’s famous bonfire were still talking about: Gentle Mystics were without two of their nine members but they wowed the crowd with a huge ten-minute opener before playing a set that wrapped up the pre-DJ part of the festival in incredible fashion. Congratulations and praise flowed forth post-set, no less than they deserved.
The DJs and MONSTA took over, proceeding to kick things into overdrive for those who’d stayed put. I went off to excitedly interview Gentle Mystics, stave off fatigue and enjoy the bonfire’s warmth on a brisk evening in the company of some of the acts who continued mingling throughout the night; Firefly became truly rewarding to me after I headed off to my tent just after 3am after a great chat with Gentle Mystics’ drummer.
I wandered once more around the festival, revelling in the good, accepting the bad as inevitable festival side effects – drunk people doing drunken things to the behest of those sober around them is to be expected at any place with great ale sold cheap – and telling myself that my time at Firefly was as superb a way for me to experience my first music festival as possible.
Even the morning after, when people emerged from their tents and accepted that they’d have to leave at some point – curfew was at a reasonable 4pm, but it was someone’s property after all – the atmosphere was still warming. I packed up my stuff surprisingly efficiently for someone with a pop-up tent who’d the day before been warned about the perils of trying to put away a pop-up tent, and headed over the house to get a few words from those who’d kept the festival running smooth.
I discovered Anne, her brother and his husband rushing around the kitchen cooking breakfast for the festival crew and her family and friends who were rushing up and down the stairs like characters in an 80s sitcom. As if the weekend wasn’t already sublime, my grubby post-festival self was invited in and given food. I dare you to find another festival where those running the whole operation – after an intense week of necessary time and energy-consuming preparation, organising and keeping things running smoothly – get up the next morning to cook breakfast for the crew and press. I swear it wasn’t a delicious bribe.
I left on a high, said my goodbyes after gathering a few more photos of the gorgeous place and in one final act of generosity was offered a lift into town by Anne’s daughter Puffin (who was a prominent helping hand figure over the course of the weekend). I bid adieu to Anne who took a brief moment from pre-festival chaos to wave me off from a window and was whisked off to the train station to kill time waiting for a train and reflect on what a superb weekend I’d been given.
I wish I could do it more justice: photos, improvised interviews** and memories taken away can’t really sum up the weekend itself. Being there to watch this wonderful, impossible pipe dream realised and unfold in its entirety is something that anyone who enjoys living life to its fullest and most fulfilling should experience, even once. August is the month for music festivals but if you’re planning to go to any next year, make it to Firefly.
Finally, a few words from Anne:
“It is very much a family run festival.”
“I tend to do the majority but Puffin and Peli (my daughters) with Sam Bailey are my partners in crime. My husband James gets terribly excited about the clearing up afterwards which is hilarious to watch and a very important part of organising a festival!
I have to say that the mess was minimal this year. It reflects the excellent crowd we seem to attract. We’re really lucky. Warren Fisher from Urban Audio Productions and Pete Lawton (who heads the security – Oakland Security Ltd) both go way beyond their brief with their kindness and friendship.
It all started because we knew quite a few people who either were in bands or had children in bands who all found it extremely difficult to find venues to play. If they were over 18 they could just about find a seedy pub to play in but if not thru didn’t have a hope. So we decided to start a small festy. It was a relatively small step from the gatherings we had around a big campfire listening to music.”
“Basically music in a field with friends.”
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*Worth noting here that San was her name and, along with the lovely medic crew who stepped up the plate when the drinks flowed too fast for some and the rest of the security crew who gave me the time of day and the freedom to roam, helped me out A LOT during the day; one of the medics even lent me their camera for a few hours and gave me free access to a pool-side building for juicing up my battery-draining tech.
**While several during the day were unorthodox, the last one done with some of Gentle Mystics will be perhaps my most bizarre, a night-time affair with lighting provided by my phone’s flashlight balanced delicately in my pocket and a head torch on my face borrowed from one of the crew. The band found it amusing.
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