More about: Isle of Wight Festival

The Isle of Wight Festival is a prime example of the long-lasting effects of counterculture. With its roots in 1968, reviving in 2002, for a weekend mixing alternative and popular musical styles to its visitors. 

I began my trip there on the Thursday morning, with a ferry kindly provided by Wightlink. An easy passage over the water and I’d arrived in the sweltering heat, ready for the faceful of funk that opened the festival that evening. After wandering aimlessly to find my campsite and the confusion that is navigating a pop-up tent, it was time for the first day to begin. 

The festival was kicked off by the Lottery Winners, providing multitudes of vocals and bass riffs that make it impossible to stay still, I felt like the weekend’s vibes were sufficiently set. It must be said that the twenty-odd-degree weather made it horrible to stand still, or move about, for too long. So after the set, I retired to my tent for a well-needed speed nap, before Groove Armada that night; who were brilliant. A set of classic tunes loved by all to have a dance inside the Big Top, a DJ set to close the night with ringing ears and flashing lights behind your eyelids every time you blinked. They certainly set the bar for the rest of the headliners to come. 

While I really enjoyed getting settled and dancing the night (read: bed by 11pm) away, the Thursday was rough. I was so tired - it’s no easy feat traveling with a sleeping bag, mat, tent, and bags of stuff for a weekend away - that it felt like biding time until I got to sleep to prepare for the Friday. It must be said that going to a stadium gig the day before a festival starts is not the smartest move I’ve ever made, but I’m incapable of saying no to fun music opportunities. 

The Friday morning felt more promising for a day full of music and dance, without a chunk of travelling beforehand and a full night’s rest. I immediately woke up counting the seconds until Pulp that evening, who were my must-see as soon as the line-up was released. 

The first set was at 1pm, which made for a good start for those plagued with first-night hangovers, but for those of us without one, it meant more aimless wandering to learn the locations of all the stages and observing the food that was up for grabs. Barclaycard sponsored the Isle of Wight Festival this year, and kindly provided visitors with an app - a brief glance at mine saw that there was a good mix of both prolific and up-and-coming artists playing, with the first big name on the main stage being Sophie Ellis-Bextor. If cheesy pop has no fans left, I am dead. I love a disco classic and a chance to groove, especially in the sunshine. While screaming my heart out to 'Murder on the Dancefloor', even pretty far back, the screens show Sophie in such high definition that I could trick my eyes into believing I’m at the barrier. This bodes incredibly well for my legs not having to stand still for the six hours until Pulp come on stage - it also makes the Isle of Wight accessible for the ability to bring a deck chair and chill at the back of the field throughout the afternoon. 

I’m trying to avoid passing out and causing a scene, so keep wandering to avoid a stand-still wooziness. I do, however, speed back for the Courteeners: a band that take me immediately back to being 15 and having my twitter display name end in (crocodile emoji) (lemon emoji). The grip that 2000/2010s indie music still has on me in 2023 is somewhat embarrassing, but then the set starts and I remember why. Opening with 'Are you in love with a notion?' Gives me the quickest on-set goosebumps, and I want a dark fruits and a bucket hat, STAT. A perfect selection of songs from St. Jude, too, so it was very 2008 in the crowd. A perfect opening for Pulp, who are now on in 30 minutes, and I am close to hyperventilating. The idea of Jarvis Cocker, icon extraordinaire, so close to me, makes me want to cry and vomit, in the best way. 

Of course, they didn’t disappoint. They had a glorious backing of an orchestra, a selection of strings that brought the songs to life. Jarvis’ voice has not aged. His singing of classics like 'Babies', 'F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E' and 'Disco 2000' sounded exactly the same as they do on the records. He dedicated Something Changed to the late, great Steve Mackey, as ‘Pulp’s only love song’ and I can hear my heart break. To perform so well without a pivotal member feels like the perfect showmanship attitude of the show must go on, and go on it does. And so, with the night closed on Britpop royalty, it’s time for bed before I do it all over again. 

Saturday begins with the knowledge it’s a day for pop girlies all over the island. Promises of CMAT, Scouting for Girls and newcomers The Last Dinner Party mean that I feel like my duty of reporting on the importance of fun music is about to be fulfilled. 

If nothing else, I am a fan of fun. I want to dance and sing and laugh. Music shouldn’t be a snobbish activity in theoretical knowledge, but rather the ability to enjoy oneself and reach your happiest. So, Saturday’s lineup is a dream for silly-pop lovers like me. This is why there is such beauty in starting my day with Scouting for Girls, a band that defined my pre-teen years and make me think of a big stuffed olive running down Eastbourne. They play tunes that make you get up and dance, sing along lyrics repressed since you heard them on
BBC Radio 1 in 2009. 

It’s becoming second nature to wander to the Big Top to see the artists playing there - I’m patiently waiting for The Last Dinner Party, who blow me away. They’re like if the Romantic Poets had access to electric guitars and the feminine divine. I genuinely don’t want to say too much about them, because they are a force you need to see live to understand. Straight after is CMAT, a fantastic back-to-back for those who love to see women with a flair for the dramatic. 

She is incredible. One of my favourite performers of the weekend, an artist who knows how to perform and have fun while doing it. It must be acknowledged that in watching these artists at the Big Top, there is, to me, a problem with deciding set lengths and locations - why does CMAT, an artist with a full LP and a second one announced for October release, only get 45 minutes? It seems a shame to cut such a performer short, especially considering the crowd that is here to see her. 

I end my day with George Ezra and the Chemical Brothers, both of whom seem to embody a festival spirit to me. They’re obvious choices for headliners - but I am feeling disheartened by such a large presence of male artists while the female up-and-comers are reduced to sets half the length and half the crowd size. Regardless, a good day was had. 

Sunday is the last day of the festival before I begin my treacherous journey back to the midlands on Monday morning, so I’m ready to return to a real bed. I do, however, consider myself possibly the biggest under-40 fan of Blondie, so there’s no chance I’m skipping this evening. I float around most of the day in the last-day exhaustion, and then the heavens open. It is so wet and cold, but Mika is about to start, so I’ve decided to brave it. He makes the rain part of his performance, yet another highlight of the festival. The classics are played and I’m dancing in the rain, and Mika has jumped into the crowd, and it’s a beautiful show of how music brings us all together in all kinds of weather and moods. 

Given the horrific weather, I spend the afternoon until Blondie in the media tent with a stint to watch the first 3 songs of Niall Horan’s set in the pit, and sit around waiting to dry. 

Blondie are, it must be said, not at their historical best. But who is expecting a 1977 CBGB performance? For the age of 77, Debbie Harry is doing fantastic. She owns the stage with her funky silver, disco-ball cape and 360 glasses. She’s a total gem to watch, in the passion of her art, I feel so lucky to observe. 

That sums up the feel of the whole weekend, really. Sheer joy that I get to watch such talented individuals in the throes of their art and passion, performing with love and for love. It’s an experience I certainly won’t forget soon, even with the pain of travelling 6 hours home. 

See the shots of the weekend, captured by Mattia Ghisolfi:

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More about: Isle of Wight Festival