And for those of you that insist on reading…

The Bristol Beats Club make podcasts. It’s what we do. But we know some of you prefer the written word.

If you’re one of those people, you’ll find the transcript of the above podcast below… so fill your boots. But be warned!

As the review was only ever meant to be consumed in podcast format, it doesn’t really make sense when read. And, if you do go ahead and read it, we’ll think less of you. You’re better than that.

So the choice is yours. But listen. Don’t read. Merci.

Intro: Some Explanatory notes

Ladies and gentlemen, boys & girls and (perhaps especially relevant in this particular review) children of all ages: thanks very much for tuning in to this very special podcast review of Truck festival 2015.

Before we begin, the usual Bristol Beats Club explanatory notes.

As some of you already know, the Bristol Beats Club are unlike most other music journalists. In fact, whilst the majority of Truck festival press were busy publicising live on-site Truck festival updates, we favoured several rounds of live cider pong and a marathon game of danger can.

And that means that our reviews are very rarely rank and file play by play accounts of which bands played what at a music festival.

Yep, and instead, they’re exactly what you, a member of the normal and fun loving general public, can expect to experience on attendance of a gig or music festival – should you buy a ticket.

A ticket, we might add, that in this instance is creeping ever-closer to the £100 mark. Which makes this review more essential than ever before.

Should you really be splurging on such a ticket? Or are you better off investing in another of the plethora of small music festivals now available to you both inside and outside of the UK?

That’s exactly what we aimed to find out as we attended Truck 2015, so listen on for the outcome.

As always, the Bristol Beats Club aims neither to offend nor entertain anyone.

And, as Daim said way back in the very first podcast, ‘we’re not necessarily in the business of factual representations of things’

So enjoy the ride. And, on that note…

Creatively rearranging your three-year anniversary

When our Truck Festival 2015 invitation first arrived, I was less excited than I was terrified. Because it meant I had around 12 hours to convince my life partner, Hanna, that I’d be unable to attend our three year anniversary. Not wishing to tackle the problem head on, I contacted Daim.

And when my Truck Festival 2015 arrived, I was disheartened. Because, for reasons that consist primarily of cowardice, I was for sure not going to be able to attend the festival whatsoever.

But this brief encounter granted me hope! For, with Daim dropping out, my anniversary with my life partner now no longer had to be skipped. Instead, it could simply be rearranged!

And that’s more or less how I ended up not at a fancy restaurant or a swanky bar celebrating my three year anniversary, but in a field in the middle of no-where, drinking Captain Morgan’s from a coke bottle whilst snacking on Wasabi peanuts and, as I’m told is customary, a mountain of breakfast biscuits.

Yes, Beats Clubbers, in what proved to be a frankly rather inspired move, I took my girlfriend, Hanna – hello Hanna –

Greetings!

Along to Truck with me. It was your classic two birds with one stone scenario.

Yes two birds killed, but you did seemingly attempt to moderate my behaviour for almost the entire weekend.

Agreed, Hanna’s point is undeniable. But in my defence, when, on arrival, you started saying stuff like:

‘It’s a lovely field! With lovely dry grass!’

Something had to be done. So, naturally, I went about educating Hanna in the ways of the Beats Club.

‘The first rule of the Bristol Beats Club is, debauchery of all kinds is actively encouraged.’

I meanwhile, stayed at home.

Truck clearly put a lot of thought into the festival line up

And whilst Daim was at home, we had arrived on a gloriously sunny day and were beginning to take in the delights of the festival – dry grass included.

So, as we flicked through the programme looking which acts we wanted to check out, we were treated to a bout of glorious sunshine.

In fact it was almost a shame that both DID (formally Dog is Dead) and Darwin Deez took place within the confines of the market tent.

But of course Augustines commanded the open air main stage, in what was Friday’s stand out act.

Alongside the Charlatans, of course, the headliners. In fact, it’s pretty clear that Truck have put a lot of thought and effort into the line up. Although they weren’t for the Bristol Beats Club, Clean Bandit also made an appearance on the Friday – which proves there’s an eclectic line up with something for everyone.

And there’s a serious focus on new music here, too, to the extent that it’s almost certain you’ll at some point be able to nonchalantly brag to your friends that you prefer a band like Neon Waltz’s old stuff, from back when you saw them in a small tent in Oxfordshire alongside a crowd of just over 100 people, before they sold out, went mainstream and started headlining stages at festivals beginning with G.

But I, of course, will never have such a privilege.

The food: on the whole good, be celiacs beware

Somewhere on that Friday eve, we needed to eat.

Which is often a pain in the arse for Hanna.

Well, yes, I’m gluten free! But at music festivals, my dietary requirements are rarely a problem. In fact, it’s often easier to eat at music festivals than it is outside of music festivals – there’s usually all sorts of diets catered for at these things, right?

At Truck, though, this wasn’t the case. Now don’t get us wrong: some of the food here is outstanding. And reasonably priced, too. And – in an unprecedented move on the music festival circuit – a lot of it’s for a bloody good cause. In fact, there’s a whole food hall – which this year exhibited casseroles, pizzas, grills, currys, burgers and veg boxes – run by volunteers putting all proceeds to charity: a highly commendable feat.

Very commendable, but it left very little for those of us with gluten or wheat intolerances to tuck into.

So, non-gluteners, you had curry. Or chips. Or another form of curry. Or chips. Or, what Hanna went for, a beef burger with a bit of bacon on top in a tissue without a bun. Such was the variety poised.

But then I had queued for 30 minutes for a curry, only to be told there was at that point no curry available.

Again, the queues at this place are somewhat unprecedented. And constant. They very rarely diminish to an acceptable level. Which meant for the second time in a month, I was relegated to eating nought but wasabi peanuts on that first festival eve.

And me, a beef burger with a bit of bacon on top in a tissue without a bun.

But when you consider the vast majority of this is run by volunteers, entirely for charity, so long as you’re willing to eat normally –

As I absolutely would have been –

Then the food is actually plentiful – and bloody well priced too. To give you an idea a smoothie – which might cost close to a fiver elsewhere – was on offer for just two bucks – it’s a small price to pay for life’s ultimate hangover cure.

And a full meal will cost you a fiver.

I, meanwhile, stayed at home.

After hours entertainment. (Be sure to check out the Palm City Stage.)

Fed, watered and excited post-Charlatans, it was time to check out what Truck could offer in the way of after hours entertainment. A true staple for an avid festival goer.

First, it was the turn of the silent disco. Which, we’re sad to report, was in many ways more silent than it was disco.

There were some technical difficulties, weren’t there, which meant two things. One, that anything DJ Luck & MC Neat attempted to play cut in and out sporadically and was heavily interspersed with that fuzzy sound you used to get when changing channels on an analogue TV.

And two, that, in one of the more comical moments of the festival, all silent disco goers – desperately searching for reception – congregated like ants in one sole corner of the silent arena, leaving vast swathes of space entirely unoccupied – a bemusing scenario that I’d love to see played back at some point in the future.

So after a while we gave up on the silent disco and went in search of more fertile evening entertainment… in what would prove to be a festival highlight.

Truckers: if you do end up going to Truck, be sure to check out the Palm City Stage: a simply excellent small collection of intoxicated and fun loving festival-goers housed in a tent accessed via a tunnel. A hidden Truck festival gem.

In a moment of hilarity, my life partner – a 5 foot 4 petite brunette from a small village in Somerset, who was a few hours earlier commenting on the ‘lovely field and the lovely dry grass’ the festival had provided us with – had to be restrained by bouncers for climbing tent poles, which more or less signalled the end of what in my book was now a very successful day 1 of the festival, while Daim, of course…

Stayed at home.

This festival is seriously family friendly

My head hurt when I woke up. Largely because I woke up early. Really early. To the sound of happy children playing in the background.

Family festival goers: Truck festival is for you. I have literally seen nothing like it before. There are kids all over the place here – and a lot for them to do.

Truck have actually won awards for their family friendly vibe. Kids can play on the circus games. They can ride the helter skelter. Or have a spin on the ferris wheel. And Truck will give you headphones for the tots too, protecting their small ears.

But why were there so many kids nearby? Rising at this most unholy of hours?

Because the Bristol Beats Club had inadvertently camped in family camping.

There’s no need to wake up early if you’d rather lie in. The lovely people at Truck have separated campsites, so families can get a decent night’s sleep – followed by a turbulent morning – and youngsters can stay up long into the night being all raucous then catch some slumber in the early hours.

The Bristol Beats Club, however, did neither.

We stayed up late. I was educating Hanna, after all. But we did not lie in. There were children about. I began to feel ashamed for having a sly widdle nearby at some point during the night. What had I become?

Neither of us wanted to be alone with our own thoughts. So we arose. And, as Chris put it that morning, it was time for a customary Bristol beats Club shower.

Now, I can’t imagine many of you shower at music festivals. But give it a go. You have no idea how much better you’ll feel. We collected our things and headed over.

Only to be told the showers were out of action.

Yep, the showers, introduced new to truck for 2015, had gone down at prime showering time. And it didn’t seem likely they’d be back up before the evening.

Fortunately for Truck, the festival currently stands at just two days long. So a shower isn’t necessarily essential.

But nonetheless, they were out of commission. Which meant, after some sly R+R in another glorious day of sunshine, it was back to the music for us.

Budget conscious? Then Truck is for you.

Cheeky up and coming act Rat Boy were first on the Bristol Beats Club bill – and played exactly the kind of spirit lifting set you need after a night of climbing tent poles and eating tissu-ee burgers.

And after accepting the invitation of a jaunt with the band on stage, we headed deeper into the festival to explore some of Truck’s miscellaneous treats.

You know what we’re talking about here – the added extras. The above and beyonds. With Truck, they do their bit for charity. And they’re accommodating for families.

And we couldn’t go a single second further without mentioning the fact that, this year at least, courtesy of the good people at Victor’s drinks, they’d laid on free cider pong!

This is on top of the fact that the entire festival is bring your own booze! Bring as much booze as you fancy – decanted, of course – then have more  booze on us! A truly inspired piece.

And something that means Truck can certainly be done on the cheap. Good music, glorious sunshine and a whole load of fun in a budget friendly environment. It’s elsewhere unheard of.

Budget conscious?

Then this one’s for you. Now, we should mention, the Bristol Beats Club had the pleasure of befriending the beautiful cider pong staff members.

Which meant that we had far more of Victor’s cider than we’d ever intended to…

Truck Festival: ‘An epic weekend for the Bristol Beats Club’

The day spiralled out of control. Saint Raymond were on. As was Rae Morris. We played Danger Can. To the rhythms of Public Service Broadcasting. Hanna ate some curry. Before, realistically, the festival’s main attraction.

As dusk kicked in, The Bristol Beats Club were front and centre, all up in the mosh pit, for the theatrics of Basement Jaxx.

I looked to my immediate left. And, not surprisingly, the audience included a child of no older than five, watching alongside a parent that had far from given up on life in the way the Bristol Beats parents did long ago.

And owing largely to the cider, the Basement Jaxx capped off what was both an epic day and an epic weekend for the Bristol Beats Club.

So Hanna says, of course. Because by this point, her education was well and truly complete. And, as she put it in her own words the following morning:

‘I was so drunk last night I can’t even remember the Basement Jaxx’.

All whilst I, of course, stayed at home.

Discover some awesome new indietronica bands

Well, Beats Clubbers, that just about concludes our Truck Festival 2015 review. Before we sign off there’s just one more thing to say.

If you like music, and you like festivals, then subscribe to the show on iTunes.

Or Stitcher. Or the podcast app of your choice.

We’re not podcasting regularly at the moment, but whenever we do, you lucky subscribers will be the first to know.

And you’ll get the inside scoop on new indie, electro and indietronica music, as well as exactly what goes down at select music festivals – so you’ll know exactly what to expect.

And of course, whether or not it’s for you. In the case of Truck, it’s for families, the budget conscious, and those interested in new music. Which pretty much covers all bases. If you fancy fun, get your ticket – at the time of writing, 2016 early birds are on sale now.

And if you don’t, why on earth are you still listening?

Thanks very much for tuning in.

And bye from me! Enjoy your week!

Love you all, you sexy things.

Your friendly neighbourhood Bristol Beats. Xx

And for those of you that insist on reading…

The Bristol Beats Club make podcasts. It’s what we do. But we know some of you prefer the written word.

If you’re one of those people, you’ll find the transcript of the above podcast below… so fill your boots. But be warned!

As the review was only ever meant to be consumed in podcast format, if read, it won’t always make sense. And, if you do go ahead and read it, we’ll think less of you. You’re better than that.

So the choice is yours. But listen. Don’t read. Ta.

Intro: Some Explanatory notes

Greetings, Beats Clubber, and thanks very much for downloading this one off, very special Bristol Beats Club podcast; a Best Kept Secret Festival 2015 review. Before we get stuck in it’s worth one or two explanatory notes –

The Bristol Beats Club are unlike most other music journalists. Indeed, we visited the Best Kept Secret press area just once in our entire time at the festival. And, whilst other journalists were busily typing away on their mac-book pros, desperately attempting to be the first of the pack to reveal the latest Circa Waves set list, we were merely looking to get a couple of pints in without queuing at the bar.

Yep, it’s true. And what we present to you in this podcast is not necessarily another unopinionated and impartial account of what happened at Best Kept Secret in 2015. Instead, it’s an honest account of what you, a standard member of the intoxicated, music and fun-loving general public, can really expect from Best Kept Secret. Most importantly, it reveals whether or not a ticket is worth the £125 asking price.

As always, the Bristol Beats Club aims neither to offend nor entertain anyone and, as Daim very cleverly mentioned back in the first ever Bristol Beats Club podcast, we’re not in the business of the factual representation on things.

So enjoy the podcast and, if you like, subscribe to the show on iTunes. And on that note…

Best Kept Secret Festival Day 0: Getting to the Festival from the UK

When Daim neglected to take his tent with him to 2000Trees festival last year, he described it as ‘the worst possible start to a festival I’d ever experienced’. Clearly, he’d never made the pilgrimage to Best Kept Secret.

You see, as you likely already know, Best Kept Secret takes place just outside of Tilburg, over in the Netherlands. What you’re much less likely to know is that the Bristol Beats Club are based over in Bristol in the South West of England.

And that meant that, when we received our press accreditation five days before the festival began, we had a burning desire to attend, shoestring funds and some 400 miles to cover before soaking in the likes of alt-j, the Libertines and the enthusiastic attitude of laid back and liberal Dutch party-goers.

Last minute flights were deemed too pricey. Swimming, on the other hand, seemed too dangerous. Amazingly, a ferry crossing wasn’t even considered. Because there was a fourth, rather intriguing offering.

You see, the clever people at Best Kept Secret clearly know their audience. And they clearly know that some poor souls from the UK need a convenient way of getting over to an unknown location in the Netherlands with absolute minimum outlay.

So they’ve teamed up with Planet Festival to arrange a door to door(ish) coach journey, from either London, Bristol or Manchester all the way to the festival – return – for the bargain price of 99 quid.

And, perceiving this fourth potential mode of transportation as a very clear ‘party bus’, that was exactly what the Bristol Beats Club opted for. Needless to say, the decision proved costly.

We left Bristol at 10pm on the Thursday. One coach trip became two, two trips became three coaches trips and a ferry, three coaches trips and a ferry became three coach trips, a ferry, a short walk and some serious sleep deprivation, and, eventually, at 3pm on the Friday – 17 hours after our pilgrimage had begun – we arrived at the Festival gates, feeling as if we’d already put our bodies through three days of carnage before our festival had even begun.

Best Kept Secret Festival Day 1: Straight Rum & No Food All Day Long

But, nonetheless, we had arrived. And it didn’t take us long to forget about our travel woes as the prospect of seeing Circa Waves was looming large on the horizon. And what what one item could improve an experience like seeing Circa Waves? That’s right, a cold beer. So it was time to take our bank cards and top up our wristbands (that’s right all your money is stored on a chip on your wristband at Best Kept Secret) and savour that most beautiful of tastes: the first festival beer.

“I’m sorry we don’t accept visas” – would an example the last thing on earth you would want a person who is your one remaining barrier to a post-17 hour bus journey beer to say as you hand them your Visa. Predictably, though, this was the scenario the Bristol Beats Club faced – along with two equally distraught Scottish gentlemen. And, after we all attempted a desperate gallop across a field to catch a shuttle bus that was our only hope of reaching a cash point before the next morning, we conceded defeat.

So we were left with the harrowing prospect of the rest of the day with nothing entering our bellies besides a soft drink bottle filled to brim with straight rum.

But we did have breakfast biscuits and wasabi peanuts!

This potentially concerning outcome was shared by Mark and Gary, our new Scottish counterparts.

And, as luck would have it, we also shared a keen interest in Circa Waves and the Libertines, the Friday’s stand-out artists.

Needless to say, by the time Libertines’ characteristically chaotic set got underway we had long forgotten that the only solids to have passed our lips in the last 24 hours were a mountain of cereal bars. And, by the time the euphoria of being one of the few present at Best Kept Secret to hear the brand new Libertines’ song “Gunga Din” had set in, we couldn’t care less about the straight rum tumbling around our empty bellies that was inevitably going to lead to a serious hangover in just a few hours time.

Best Kept Secret Day 2: Showering, Shuttling & S(h)ucking Off

The fact that we failed to wake until midday the next day – at a happening music festival, whilst sheltered solely by (separate) sweltering canvas houses – was testament to four things.

The first, that, thanks to a post-17 hour bus journey two days ago, we’d completely skipped an entire night’s sleep. The second, that we’d eaten nothing but peanuts for a good 30 hours and our bodies had probably slipped into a mild form of coma. The third, that we were actually at a much more chilled out festival than the kind you’d typically find in UK. And the fourth, that we’d stayed up late last night, looking deep into each others eyes whilst singing Eric Clapton at the top of our lungs.

Neither of our two tents was trampled, vandalised or urinated on at any point during that first evening. In fact, they remained in tip-top condition, and entirely theft free, for the whole weekend. We rose from our tents and took stock of the situation.

We were hungry, that much was clear. And we needed a shower. (Yes, the Bristol Beats Club shower at festivals. You should try it. It does wonders for the hangovers.) And, on listening back to this recording from the evening before,

[An angry German woman shouting]

we probably needed to apologise for something. But which was the priority?

Well, despite being pretty sure an apology was necessary,

[There’s a prosecution on the horizon]

we had no idea who we had to apologise to. So that – shamefully – was pushed to the bottom of the to-do list.

Food was truly important. But it was so much more difficult to obtain than a shower. Which meant the matter was settled – off to the showers it was.

UK festival goers might find this surprising, but the showers at Best Kept Secret were truly sensational. It seems the organisers, instead of booking a field on a farm in the middle of nowhere, have set their campers up in an actual, fit for purpose, campsite. And that meant showers that were better (and, in some instances even cleaner) than our showers at home.

Which meant I lingered a little, giving Damian time for some important self reflection.

[Sitting in a field, drinking alone, nursing a Libertines hangover from the evening before.]

And as for the toilets? Plumbed in. Plumbed in friggin toilets. No scrabbling around to find a portaloo that isn’t overflowing with human droppings, no running from the smelly waste disposal truck that’s such a staple of UK festivals; just a standard, normal toileting experience, both inside and outside of the festival arena. Despite the events of the evening before, once we were showered and dressed, things were looking up. Then they weren’t.

Because – somewhat oxymoronically – we needed to get some cash for the so-say ‘cashless’ festival. And the ATM was a long way away. Best Kept Secret – who as we know by now have thought of everything – put on a free, luxurious, air-conditioned shuttle bus to the cash-hole. The Bristol Beats Club, who often think of very little, decided to walk.

45 minutes in total. From the campsite, or from the festival arena (which, incidentally, are about 30 minutes away from each other). But, 45 minutes and a short shuttle bus return later, we were back at the festival, munching down some delicious Mexican food, watching Fickle Friends play a blinder of a set to a decent sized audience in what was a festival highlight for at least one of the two of us.

And in fact, the music was simply superb for the majority of the Saturday. Because, again, of the festival organisers – and we don’t just mean the bands they’ve booked.

You see, one of the cool things about Best Kept Secret is the fact that, on all but one of the five stages, the sound techs always have at least an hour in between bands to make sure things are just right. The result is a sound that’s once again superior to other festivals – regardless of who’s playing.

So we were treated to some belters from Temples. Then, Of Monsters and Men. Who were followed immediately by Death Cab for Cutie.

And there was no compromising on bands here, either. Acts booked on either stage 1 or 2 never clash – which means you’ll always get to see all of the big names… if, of course, you’re that way inclined.

The evening was continued with the Vaccines, and, because the cashless system means it almost never takes more than three minutes to get served, were really quite drunk by this point. Needless to say, by the time Noel Gallagher headlined with a set which included both Champagne Supernova and Don’t Look Back in Anger – no-one likes your new stuff Noel! – the evening had descended into chaos, a problem compounded by the fact that Damian was simply wandering around, asking every man, woman and child to

[nosh him off!]

Which, in fairness, probably explains what the German girl was so angry about.

Best Kept Secret Festival Day 3: Sunshine, Skinny Dipping & the Summer Solstice

The Sunday is often the toughest day of a music festival. After two (or perhaps even more) days on the booze, you’ve not only got a compounded hangover to contend with, but the prospect of drinking (/drugging) further whilst dealing with said compounded hangover. And as I awoke, once again at midday, at Best kept Secret Festival, the by now familiar feelings of shame and anguish came rushing back to me.

[Chez… Chez… turn the device off Chez]

Have you ever woken up and realised you were a bit trigger happy with your credit card the evening before? Well, waking up at Best Kept Secret is a little like that… only if you had a credit card attached to your wrist and used it to pay for things like Superman.

We’d loaded all of our cash onto our wristbands the day before – and quickly realised that the only way to check our remaining balance was to buy more things.

You can only imagine our disappointment when a cashless machine revealed to us – almost mockingly, as we bought our first pint of the day – that we’d spent more or less all of our money the evening before. Which is even more frustrating when you consider the pints, at €4.20 a go, are very much reasonably priced.

Alas, there was just time for a quick jaunt at Wolf Alice before heading back to the cashpoint.

And who should we bump into along the way other than Gary and Mark, plus a few extra friends. And, after apologising for Daim’s ‘nosh me off’ escapades, we were back to it.

It’s worth noting that at some point on the Sunday – it had been warm and sunny up until this point – the heavens opened. But the fact that the festival is for the most part on grassy sand made the rain a more or less non-event. It rained for five minutes, the sand absorbed it. No wellies necessary, no Glastonbury-esque quagmire. The progressive festival had scored another point.

Especially as the ten minutes of rain had cleared the sky, and we now found ourselves back at the main stage, raving away in the sunshine to Future Islands, surprisingly close to the front.

And that was with no pushing, squeezing, or trampling, either. In fact, we could roam more or less as we pleased for almost all sets we witnessed, including even that most raucous of acts, The Libertines.

It’s true, we were up at the front, looking all old and out of place, for pretty much every set, without fear of heart attack. What the guys at Best Kept Secret appear to have done really well is either limit capacity or sort out their crowd management. Because there was everything going on – moshing, circle-pits, the lot – and yet we were at no point relegated to watching a set through the big screen.

So post Future Islands, after meeting even more friends, it was the turn of Royal Blood to get our hearts pumping.

But not before a few choice drunk festivalees decided to take a dip in the nearby lake.

That’s right, yes, Best Kept Secret borders the frankly beautiful Victorimeer lake – and the laid back liberal Dutch organisers give punters the respect of not fencing it off.

And, for the most part, their respect is returned.

But of course, the most debaucherous of festival goers simply can’t resist on a Sunday eve. And, even more tragically, one of them was no less than a close friend of the Bristol Beats Club.

After drying off, Gary and our ever-expanding clan indulged in the arbitrary headbanging whilst Royal Blood graced the stage. Before, realistically, the festival’s main attraction.

The sun went down on the day of the Summer solstice whilst a handful of electronic music fans were treated to a predictably beautiful set from the hottest band in the world at the moment – alt-j.

It was a set that topped off, truly, one of the most outstanding festivals the Bristol Beats Club have ever attended in the past and, given the shrivelling of our livers and Tory societal pressures for us to stop get real jobs, perhaps will ever attend in the future.

Outro: Some parting notes

Well, thank you very much for listening Beats Clubbers. As we said beforehand, if you liked the review subscribe to the show on iTunes, Stitcher or the podcast app of your choosing.

Although we’re not making any new podcasts just now we undoubtedly will be in the future.

And you lucky podcast subscribers will be the first to know.

Take it steady.

And get your ticket for next year.

Love you long time.

Bristol Beats Xx