Would mud tear us apart? That is the question 70,000 Electric Picnic attendees ask as predictions of an overnight deluge prove depressingly accurate. But by early afternoon fears of the festival becoming a squelch-tival are proving wide of the mark. It’s a little claggy underfoot sure. However, as teatime approaches, no one will mistake Stradbally in September for day three of Verdun.
Spirits on Saturday are, if anything, conspicuously higher than on Friday. Most people have settled in: the car is parked, the tent up, the long drive home a faint cloud on the horizon. Rain or not we’ve reached peak festival with headliners Tame Impala and Picture This to look forward to (and Arctic Monkeys and Snow Patrol to come 24 hours later).
Some of us have peaked earlier than others. “Are you with them Laois boys?” inquires a festivalgoer approached by a journalist for comment about his Electric Picnic experience.
[ Electric Picnic 2022 in pictures: A mucky second day does little to dampen moodOpens in new window ]
“Are you THE Laois boy?” he asks, more insistently.
Johnny Watterson: Conor Niland’s The Racket is a seminal book in the sports genre
Ballsbridge mews formerly home to Irish musician for €1.95m
‘I could have gone to California. At this rate, I probably would have raised about half a billion dollars’
Michael Harding: I went to the cinema to see Small Things Like These. By the time I emerged I had concluded the film was crap
Who and what the “Laois boys” are is not forthcoming — apparently they are in the vicinity and we must track them down. Seán — is this his real name? possibly not — dispenses a conciliatory fist bump and vanishes into the campsite.
He’s just disappeared when three young men stand up from the deckchairs outside their tent and yell “Becky….!” (Are they the Laois boys? Potentially?). They are addressing a young woman in a child’s pram. She’s being pushed by her pal through the mud.
“Will you lie back — you’re a BAD child,” says the friend. “I’m Becky Hill!” declares the woman in the pram. “I’m going on stage in a minute”
British pop star Becky Hill is indeed due on stage, though it is unlikely she would spend her pre-gig prep time in a campsite shouting in a Limerick-Tipperary accent. But then, anything goes as festivals — so who is to say?
This is the biggest Electric Picnic ever and is a weekend of contrasts. For instance, The Trailer Park area — a sort of Southern Gothic party zone — has a harder political edge than previously.
There is a “Direct Provision Hotel” limbo dance area where people gyrate under a pole, encouraged by men dressed as police officers. The “Redneck Health Centre” next door is adorned with a poster of Leo Varadkar. It reads: “Doctor Leo: Employee of the Year”. This is accompanied by the picture of the Tánaiste sticking his finger up his nose that went around social media last year.
Electric Picnic 2022 is also the festival version of the old science fiction movie Logan’s Run. In that film, citizens are ritualistically disintegrated upon turning 30. Similarly, there was a time Stradbally was thronged with oldies on the first weekend in September. This year, they’re thinner on the ground.
Still, those that are here are determined to make the most of their time away from the real world. A recurring theme of the weekend is that the louder the dance music, the more likely older people will be in the vicinity.
That’s certainly the case in the Trailer Park, where a set of old-school Ibiza house by the Super Average DJs has drawn enthusiastic over-40-year-olds. Similar scenes unfold at the “Boogie Woogie” sound system as parents enthusiastically bop to Madonna, their teenage kids looking on in varying degrees of mortification.
Over on the main stage, Becky Hill has finally come on. From a distance, she doesn’t look much like Becky from the campsite. But that’s the magic of festivals. For a few hours you can be whoever you want to be.
