More about: Green Man Festival

Aptly situated amongst the peaceful Welsh mountains, Green Man is an enchanting, hypnotic festival. The magical elements of Welsh culture twist it into a truly one-of-a-kind experience, while both the exceptional line-up and the inescapable communal spirit that permeates the grounds leaves punters feeling recharged and inspired. With 2022 being the festival’s twentieth birthday, this year is particularly special: the four day weekend boasts non-stop live music, comedy and cinema, as well as a host of workshops and talks. 

Thursday commences with The Umlauts, who bring their vigorous cyberpunk electro pop to the Mountain Top stage with an infectious energy. Only a handful of singles and an EP to their name, yet they’re already billed on the main stage: a credit to their artistic inventiveness. Elsewhere, on the Far Out stage, Honeyglaze play a captivatingly moody set before Pip Blom take on their biggest headline slot to date and spellbind the crowd with their playful and exuberant indie pop. 

Yves Tumor illuminates the Mountain Top with their thrashing and seductive stage presence. The amalgamation of their glamorous image — a shock of blonde hair, sparkling trousers — and a vocal performance nothing short of outstanding, they prove to be an all enthralling, cosmic superstar. They’re a tough act to follow, and, while Metronomy do get the crowd moving, they don’t quite satisfy in the same way. (Though their Welsh chant of “Hufen Ia!” ahead of their single ‘Salted Caramel Ice Cream’ is a nice touch.)

It’s refreshing to see acts lean into Welshness without the usual tirade of sheep jokes and terrible accents, but better than that is the endless pool of Welsh talent that Green Man offers. The Walled Garden is a haven for Welsh music, and the steady flow of people in and out of there demonstrates how crucial Welsh language art and music is. Papur Wal play a deliciously gratifying set of dishevelled slacker rock that secures their place in the growing Welsh rock movement, fronted by the likes of their follow-ups Adwaith. Enthusiastic, entertaining and solid musicians, the Carmarthen trio easily pack out the stage — a testament to the impact their thrilling brand of post-punk has made within the Welsh music scene. 

The most remarkable act at the Walled Garden is Cardiff’s Melin Melyn. Fronted by Gruff Glyn — who exudes the charisma of a deranged yet reassuringly charming art teacher — their silly, nonsensical brand of Welsh surf-pop is a dizzying joy when played live. Joined on stage by a dancing, flirtatious black bird and a painting wizard, their set is unpredictable, thoughtful and funny, and their musicianship is equally outstanding. Providing jubilant, lighthearted Welsh pop with an intriguing musical expertise and an enticing sense of mischief makes their set unforgettable and genuinely delightful.

Elsewhere on Friday, Mdou Moctar takes his eloquent psychedelia to the Mountain Top, while English Teacher are overwhelmed by the size of the crowd they attract to the Rising stage. With their acclaimed EP and a gripping, frantic performance style, it’s no surprise to anyone else: they’re a brilliant live act; as are Viagara Boys, who swiftly follow at the Far Out tent. A crowd that pogos relentlessly — fronted by a tiny ten year old with ‘VIAGARA BOYS’ scrawled across his forehead — quickly transforms into heaps of breathlessness and sweat. 

Black Country, New Road produce an equally exciting, though entirely different sort of performance. There’s a pin-drop silence as each member performs a solo that erupts into an ongoing, boundless amount of applause afterwards. Toeing the line between a play and a ballet, their set is a mesmerising example of the intricate way musicians are able to communicate with one another through their instruments.

Both Kraftwerk and Ezra Furman command the Mountain Top stage with their sets. Kraftwerk centre their absorbing UFO and computer-themed 3D graphics, leaving the crowd entirely engrossed; only breaking that spell for the occasional hum of a synth riff. Furman, on the other hand, is a wholly compelling, spine-tingling rockstar. The rasp of her voice and rawness of her performance is moving; equal parts queer euphoria and queer grief, she is ruthless and unremitting while she plays, placing herself as one of  the strongest acts of the weekend.

Green Man ends with the festival centrepiece - a gorgeous, giant statue of the ‘Green Man’ - being burnt to the ground. Over the weekend, festival-goers were encouraged to attach handwritten wishes onto him, which now flurry up into the air and he collapses to the floor. This, and the accompanying firework display is a cathartic, purifying close to the weekend. Both a release and a renewal of energy, you leave the festival feeling replenished, revived, and, oddly, cleaner than you arrived. A celebration of Wales, of music, of art and culture, Green Man is sincerely an experience like no other.

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More about: Green Man Festival