‘This is for everyone who likes driving fast cars, dancing and drinking Buckfast,” roared Allen McGreevy of Co Down band the Rupture Dogs before unleashing a riot of dark, grungy rock into the calm of a sunny Saturday afternoon at Sunflowerfest 2012.
The joyous, half-naked crowd responded with some truly inventive dancing, impervious to the sea of churned-up mud around them. Other, more sedate, festival-goers watched the action from folding chairs – picnic hampers and plastic wine glasses close at hand. A small, barefoot, mud-smudged child wandered into the flying hands and heels of the moshpit, and onlookers held their breath, but the sea of dancers parted and let her through. It was that kind of afternoon, that kind of easy-going, live-and-let-live festival. You could practically feel the love.
Sunflowerfest, at Tubby’s Farm, near Hillsborough, Co Down, is now in its third year, and describes itself as “simply the best wee boutique festival this summer”. Essentially, it was like a miniature Electric Picnic: a long weekend of live music, art, children’s activities, comedy, poetry and body therapies. While many of the bands were Northern Irish, there has been a definite broadening of horizons, with British acts like Lanterns on the Lake, Brassroots and Dreadzone on the line-up, and Dublin funk-rock favourites the Republic of Loose headlining on Saturday.
Four years ago, farm-owners Vanessa and Michael “Tubby” Magowan held a backyard gig as a fundraiser for their teenage son Alex, who was planning a charity trip to Chile. “We had six bands in a marquee, and I did all the catering,” said Australian-born Vanessa, taking a quick break from her duties as the main “go-to” person on the site. “The best thing about it was the opportunity to give young bands a platform, a bit of a leg-up. That felt wonderful. So the following year, we just went for it. We grow sunflowers and raspberries on the farm, and that summer was spectacular for our sunflowers, so we took big armfuls of them and gave them out to people, as a way of advertising the festival. It worked: 1,300 people joined us that year, 3,000 people came the following year, and this summer we’re hoping for 5,000.”
These are not easy times to be growing a music festival, but the Magowans are determined to succeed. So how do they keep going? “Sheer willpower alone,” laughed Vanessa. “We treat it like a business, and with a business you have to invest some of your own money. We also have a lot of hard-working volunteers: they are brilliant, and without them, we simply wouldn’t have a festival. And my 15-year-old son Louis practically controls the whole thing: he’s responsible, unflappable, and always knows what to do.” Charity and ethical living are at the heart of the Sunflowerfest initiative: in 2010, the first year of the festival, all profits went to relief efforts after the Haiti earthquake. This year, £2 (€2.55) of every weekend ticket sold goes to Oxfam projects in Haiti, and to its Ending Poverty Starts With Women campaign, which highlights how securing women’s rights is key to tackling global poverty. “Sunflowerfest is about community, breaking down barriers, getting people to experience a bit of tolerance and sharing,” said Magowan.
A new addition this year was the Electro Disco Shed, a dark, Bedouin-style tent described as “an area for dancing and futuristic grooves”, featuring a wide range of genres, from reggae to Greek heavy metal. Rising electronic musician Ryan Vail, from Derry, performed a set of hushed, other-worldly vocals over glitchy, synthesized beats, to a small but discerning crowd. And young Jamie Lowry, aka Casion, used an old Nintendo Game Boy to make strange, robotic dance music. “I started doing it because I didn’t have enough money for proper music equipment,” said Lowry, whose tracks have names such as High Power Laser Attack on a Swarm of Flying Velociraptors Engulfed in Flames in the Future. “Tubby [Michael Magowan] heard me doing my music at the campsite last year, he liked it, and now it’s great to be part of the main event,” said Lowry.
In the Sunflower Bliss area, festival-goers could get a massage, learn to dowse, have a tree-spirit reading, or buy a pot of healing calendula cream. Charlotte Dryden, who works at the Oh Yeah Music Centre in Belfast, said that Sunflowerfest, in its entirety, reminded her of the Body Soul area at Electric Picnic: “the kids, the music, the chilled-out hippie vibe.” Dryden added that Sunflowerfest “has huge potential to be the Glastonbury of Northern Ireland, the defining boutique festival. I’m proud it’s happening here.” Belfast-born Louise Sanderson, who now lives in the south of England, is a seasoned festival-goer in Britain and Ireland. “It’s a good festival, but it could be even bigger and better,” she said. “It feels like it’s at capacity now, maybe it’s time for it to expand.”
Back in the main arena, the sun was sinking behind the hills, and a couple of enterprising people were making giant bubbles from two rods strung together with string and a bucket of soapy water. The wobbly spheres floated up and away into the twilight, over the heads of the crowd. “Isn’t this perfect?” said a woman to her friend. “So easy and relaxed, no bother at all. I can’t wait to do it all again next year.”
SUNFLOWERFEST FOR KIDS OF ALL AGES
SUNFLOWERFEST PRIDES itself on being an all-inclusive festival, open to people of all ages. “Some other festivals make it difficult for kids in the 13 to 17-year-old bracket, but we wanted to encourage all ages together,” said Vanessa Magowan.
“There’s a special no-alcohol campsite where teenagers can stay if they’re accompanied by a responsible adult.” The festival also sets out to appeal to families with young children: two kids under 12 went free with each paying adult, and there was a wide range of junior art and craft activities, most of which were free. But the highlight of the children’s festival experience was a woodland recreation of CS Lewis’s Narnia, accessed via a massive wardrobe specially built by Tubby Magowan and his team of volunteers. A charming (if non-authentic) character, the Literary Fairy, decked out in mauve wings, paisley-print pyjamas and with a copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe tucked into her bosom, led kids on an adventure through the trees. Appearances by the White Witch, wearing a particularly poisonous shade of glittery green lipstick, elicited screams from the younger ones, but happy interventions by Mr Beaver and Mr Tumnus, the faun, meant there were no tears before bedtime.
Meanwhile, adults in need of refreshment could repair to the Dawn Treader cocktail bar for mojitos or strawberry daiquiris on the prow of a Narnia-inspired wooden boat.
