By Angus Burnett
The Wilderness Festival rolled into Oxfordshire once again for it’s annual celebration of good food, intellectual jousting, outdoor pursuits, anarchic games, wellbeing, wild swimming and, of course, music.
The festival has managed to hone its appeal well over the past few years to combine an image of decadence and debauchery with an experience of healthy living and family friendliness. That these two elements come together so seamlessly that the contradiction passes you by is extraordinary.
The whole thing is helped by taking place in the lush surroundings of Cornbury Park and using the woods, lakes and hollows to maximum effect. Swimming and boating at the lakes, all-night parties in the woods and entertainment in the gently rolling dips of the landscape.
The diversity and quality of the arts was brilliant. Listening to Benedict Cumberbatch, Ian McShane, Zawe Ashton and others reading Letters Live was funny, moving and profound. If one of them could tell Tony Robinson that you can bring all three of these qualities without shouting it would help.
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On the same stage, you could see contemporary dance from award-winning Studio Wayne McGregor; Laura Mvula paying sublime tribute to Nina Simone or the Wilderness Choir, members of the public, singing a moving rendition of ‘Rocket Man’.
A short stroll away was the Club House Coach where men with dodgy french accents and dubious existentialism encouraged people of all ages to ruthless games of musical chairs. Dismissing losers and winners with casual cruelty and elevating seven-year-olds to murderous psychopaths (aka Heidi the Stone Cold Killer) was one of the funniest events of the festival, if not the summer.
Heavier fare could be found at the Forum Tent during the day when politicians and journalists debated the state of the world but by night, comedians would poke and pull the globe apart. The always brilliant Odditorium podcast shone a light on the Discordians, Church of SubGenius and situationism that ultimately asked you to question everything. (Why?)
The mainstage hosted a similarly eclectic choice for the crowd. Wilderness seem to have also got the knack here for getting a variety but without having to chase the widest demographic and losing character.
The headliners were a high standard. The indie-rock/pop sensibilities of Two Door Cinema Club on Friday with a set of songs familiar from modern culture. Bonobo played a lush set of downtempo tunes on Saturday. This was followed by the traditional Wilderness Saturday Spectacle.
Some people have grumbled that the Spectacle wasn’t to the usual standard but an incredible laser show, someone suspended from a white balloon and spinning over the crowd, finishing with ‘Rocket Man’ blaring from speakers whilst the crowd sang their hearts out did it for me.
Acts lower down the bill were international collective The Turbans, the delighted and delightful Aurora, always good Toots & The Maytals, Michael Kiwanuka played his brand of soul, full of heritage without being retro.
But…but, the festival belonged to Grace Jones. Even for a festival that bills itself as a place for flamboyance and extravagance, Grace delivered an absolutely astonishing performance. Musically it was tight, the songs were all classics, her voice was still fantastic and she brought it all together with a warm showmanship but that just doesn’t do it justice. It was one of the most extraordinary and brilliant sets I’ve ever seen. Last year, The Flaming Lips brought the weird, Empire of the Sun have previously brought the costumes, we’ve had an abundance of great songs but Grace had an assuredness and confidence that melded it all together and allowed her to strut the stage, topless the entire time, hula-hooping for the last ten minutes as she performed Slave To The Rhythm to a crowd that was in the palm of her hand. Brilliance. And I’m not just talking about her disco-ball bowler hat.
