Fear & Loathing at ArcTanGent

Bleary-eyed at 6am, I hustle multiple bags into the back of the car, ready to co-pilot to Bristol. This involves asking stupid questions, checking for traffic to the left and scanning for service stations offering a McMuffin.

Hours later, we are crouched around the car, now parked in a field, the electric pump connected the wrong way to a massive airbed so we are vacuum-packing that sucker instead of filling it with hot air.

Ddrinking warm cans of lager before the tents were up, we split the tent pegs between two little shells that we would call home for the next three nights. It was windy enough, my tent anchored by my bags. With the airbed inside, there was enough room for my stuff to sit down one side, against the wall, where it nobly absorbed rain, ensuring everything remained consistently damp.

I think the first band we saw were Aiming for Enrike, but I was entirely at my Joey’s whim for the weekend. I’d heard of maybe two bands before we arrived. I was very much the indie Cindy. ATG is a festival designed for black hearts and impressive beards. I was out of my depth, hoping that it wouldn’t go all NeverEnding Story in the process. You know the scene I mean. We remain traumatised.

Continuous discussions of which strange sounding band we were in for, my head going like a nodding dog as if I had any scope of what I was in for. Sustenance only came from the rain water soaking the shoulders of my denim jacket and the loop of cans of lager, pulled from the depths of our tent. We caught Cats & Cats & Cats, Baroness, Kalandra, Tokky Horror, Spiritualized.

It was with Explosions In The Sky that I truly understand where I was and what the festival was about. Dry ice filled my lungs as layers of roving electric guitars took my soul. There was nothing like standing in a giant tent, in a field, surrounded by those who not only loved music but were all in agreement that we were all having a lovely time.

For the price of a train ticket to London, we picked up headphones for the Silent Disco and caught Karin Park’s set before collapsing into bed, rain still trying to dampen our raging spirits.

It was early when I awoke. I tried to read a damp copy of A Gentleman In Moscow before Joey opened his tent to the world of ArcTanGent. Not the right circumstances for such a venture, we opened cans of cider, colder than we deserved after a night in the tent and ventured to the arena.

Ihaxa were followed by Modern Technology. Maruja surprised me and Night Verses were all anyone could talk about. The stand out was Show Me The Body, a Brooklyn-based three piece with a banjo drawing the most intense distorted chords and the rhythm section killing any pain in my lower back. Plini and Meshuggah were mentioned. I heard but did not see them, lost in conversation back at the tent.

The silent disco on Friday night was illuminating. I was wrapped in the warm sense that I was in the right place at the right time. Filled with love for everyone around in me in those bizarre circumstances, Joey and I danced like idiots until three in the morning.

Everyone was talking about Mogwai. I discovered a little too late and with a little shame that every time they were mentioned, I was thinking of Fugazi for some reason. We sat in the blazing sun outside a tent where Stuart Braithwaite talked about his book, Spaceships Over Glasgow.

Mac & Cheese, the second best portion of my life and my Dream Side Dish, was followed by Quade, Sunnata, Silver Moth, Scaler, And So I Watch You From Afar, Brontide and Caspian. If I wasn’t mistaken, I was getting into this. The trick was to partially disassociate. People were dancing like the Gen Xers do in that Simpsons episode where Homer joins Hullabalooza (Season 7; Episode 24).

Finishing off a final frosty one in the VIP area, we took our places at the front of the main stage. The heat of the lights caught me off-guard and then Mogwai knocked me on my arse. An incredible show that left my ears ringing for a week after, lost in the drive and control that they had. So tight as a band, an understanding built across three decades. It was everything that everyone who knew promised me it would be. I grooved on the spot, aware of the general awe that they created. Each time a song reached a maximum, it would only be ramped up further. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing or hearing. This was a different world to anything I’d known before.

Nothing would top that. I went to bed with my ears screaming and my legs kicking out. That was it. ArcTanGent was done. I have no doubt that I will be back next year, maybe with a little more research and expectation under my arm. Thank you for a lovely time, especially to my soul guide, dance partner and tent mate, JH.