Monday Morning – a preamble 

It’s early Monday morning, the Manic Street Preachers’ Futuorology is blasting from the stereo in an effort to bolster the coffee surging through my system and I’m trying to make sense of a truly remarkable weekend spent in Catton Park so, please, excuse me if I wax lyrical about the absolute joys of Bearded Theory. 

To put it as simply as I may, Bearded Theory is a case study in how to do a festival properly. In many instances, festivals fall into two camps – the commercial behemoths that have the size and scale to do things well but in a very utilitarian fashion; and the independent-but-with-a-commercial-bent festivals, that have all the trappings of a commercial event (advertising, sponsorship, VIP areas) but, mindful of margins, lack the wherewithal and/or desire to really make the event as comfortable as it might be. 

Bearded Theory sits apart from all this. 

Steadfastly uncommercial, the festival treats its attendees like adults who are capable of deciding for themselves what to take into the campsite and what is acceptable in the arena. This, alongside the absence of multi-tier access, means that the festival is remarkably open, with only the glorious Woodland Stage occasionally seeing queues (and then only out of necessity). Reminiscent of Glastonbury before Mean Fiddler got their sticky paws all over it in the late 90s, Bearded Theory – more than any other festival we’ve attended in recent years – offers a friendly, mini-eco-system, with shops, bars, camping, entertainment, schooling (for the younglings), and activities such as drum circle participation and yoga all held within its perimeter.  

The site

It really is refreshing to enter a festival that allows attendees to move freely between campsite and arena, taking anything they may need to enjoy the acts in comfort. With no overzealous security demanding that even water bottles are empty, it minimises queues and, across the weekend, it’s notable that few, if any, take advantage of this generosity of spirit, gladly populating the reasonably priced and well-stocked bars and food stalls and enjoying the freedom to take their drinks where they will. You can’t help but wonder how, when Bearded Theory make it look so easy, other festivals have got it so wrong – an obsession with driving people to the arena stalls coming across as a meanness of spirit that has the opposite effect to that which is intended, forcing people to the campsite for a cheeky drink where they could be watching music. 

I digress – Bearded Theory have got it absolutely right and, because there are no queues to get into the arena, you don’t need to have a tightly plotted schedule to get from one place to another, making for a far more relaxed festival experience. 

The site itself is beautifully laid out. The camping area has a range of stalls, water points, showers, compostable toilets (for which there is almost never a queue), and plenty of space. Again, there is such obvious thought and generosity of spirit in the layout that pretty much all needs are covered with minimum fuss. It makes it incredibly easy to just be there, enjoying the beautiful surroundings and saying hi to people as they move around the campsite.  

The arena is neatly divided up into sections, with the stages well sited to avoid too much bleed. As you enter, you pass the Meadow stage, the largest of the covered stages, and a handful of shops and bars. To the left lies the Coda stage and a direct path to both the Pallet stage and the children’s area – home to the festival’s Ofsted-accredited school from Wednesday to Friday; open for general activities (including drum circles) at the weekend. To the right lies Big ‘Ed – a giant green man who pumps out banging tunes throughout the festival – and Maui Waui, with its instantly recognisable inflatable octopus. There’s also a dusty path that leads out of the main arena to the bizarre Convoy Cabaret Tent, the Earth Area (with its firepit and activities), and the Woodland stage. It’s all close enough that it can be explored with ease, yet broken up enough that it feels like a small village, with each festival goer discovering their own favoured corner. 

 Shorn of the advertising that dominates many other festivals, there’s a true otherworldliness about Bearded Theory that is instantly appealing. From the numerous seating points scattered about (including hammocks, picnic tables, and hay bales) to the easily accessible toilets and bars, helpfully located close to each stage to ensure you rarely miss a note of your favourite band, you get the feeling that the festival was carefully curated by people with love in their hearts and the desire to make the perfect festival experience. It possibly seems redundant to reiterate this point, but they have surely succeeded and Bearded Theory is quite possibly the loveliest, easiest, most comfortable festival for people of any age to explore. For old hands and newcomers alike, it is an absolute joy to find the various nooks and crannies of the arena over the course of the weekend and, honestly, if this was all Bearded Theory was, it would be worth a visit, but then there’s also a stellar line up of bands to explore… 

Thursday

We arrive late on Thursday evening, which doesn’t give us much time to explore the bands of the day. That’s not to say there’s not plenty of music, but much of it is DJs priming the early arrivals for the weekend. That said, we do manage to get into the arena in time to catch the end of English Teacher, who deliver an engaging set to an enthusiastic crowd. Fronted by Lily Fontaine, the band’s deft mix of art rock and indie nods to the likes of Radiohead, Pavement, Linoleum, and Idles, capturing some of the frazzled spirit of 90s alternative rock and imbuing it with a contemporary feel. With tracks like R&B, Nearly Daffodils, and Albert Road, this Mercury-Prize-winning act have remarkable potential, and Bearded Theory feels like the perfect home for their compelling sounds. 

Meanwhile, over at the Woodland – one of the most beautiful settings you can imagine – festival goers chat, drink, and laugh as Chris Hawkins keeps us entertained with a wide range of tracks before the silent disco takes over and we make our way back through the arena to the campsite. It’s one hell of an introduction to the festival, boosted by a quick trip to the well-stocked ale bar on the way out. 

Friday

Getting the day off to a heavy start, hotly tipped metallers Dream State light up the Meadow stage with a crunchy mix of Within Temptation, Lacuna Coil, and Bring Me The Horizon. Very much at the heavier end of what you can typically expect at Bearded Theory, the band have a secret weapon in Jessie Powell, whose assured presence and powerful voice helps Dream State to stand out from the pack. It’s a cool start to the day and you can expect to hear more from them in the future. 

Over on the Pallet Stage is something of a treat. One of Kurt Cobain’s favourite bands (Nirvana covered three of their songs), The Vaselines are a Scottish indie rock outfit now on their third reunion stint. Hardly a prolific act – they’ve managed just three LPS since they formed in 1986 – the Vaselines have nevertheless had a significant cultural impact thanks to Kurt’s championing of their music, and the band are gracious enough to air those tracks today – a poignant Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam and a raucous Son Of A Gun, the latter closing the set on a high. On the way, we get the excellent I Hate The 80s, which punctures the nostalgic bubble that has expanded around the 80s, the band delivering the barbed lyric with a sweet melodicism that helps to keep it from sounding too bitter. It’s a great set – an early highlight of the day in fact, and the Vaselines have great sound, great presence, and deservedly play to a packed field. Maybe it’ll encourage them to a fourth album… we can only hope. 

Over on the Woodland stage, something folky stirs in the form of Merry Hell, whose joyful folk rock is perfectly pitched for the leafy green light of his gorgeous glade. With tracks like Bury Me Naked and The Baker’s Daughter getting the crowd moving, there’s an Oysterband / Levellers vibe to Merry Hell which is ideal for a festival, and the crowd only continues to grow as they blast through their short, sweet set. 

It’s back to the Pallet stage for the iconic Ned’s Atomic Dustbin who are… well, a little disappointing actually. While their crunchy alternative rock seems to go over well with a good chunk of the crowd (and there’s more than a few NAD t shirts knocking about today), there’s very little in the way of dynamic, and it all starts to blur into one after the first few tracks. 

Fortunately, there’s not long to wait before the mighty Dreadzone. Surely the ultimate festival band, while Dreadzone are enjoyable wherever you may see them, there is nothing to compare to seeing this wonderful band in a field alongside thousands of laughing, dancing festival goers. It’s what the band were made for, and they do it so well. 

Opening with the perennial Life, Love, and Unity – surely the band’s entire ethos crammed into one, life-affirming song – Dreadzone light the place up with the irrepressible MC Spee finding it hard to stay seated, while Earl 16’s voice remains a thing of wonder. Music Army, Rise Up, Conquer – the band’s set brings the sunshine and the field responds, moving as a living animal, the rippling effect of thousands of dancing feet slowly spreading ouwards. While the band keep things moving with a mid-set American Dread, it’s the closing pairing of Little Britain and Captain Dread that truly seal the deal, the ever-growing crowd happily singing as one. 

Dreadzone are one of the most life-affirming acts out there with the only criticism being that their sets are just too darn short. For us, they could happily have soundtracked the entire afternoon. 

Bringing the dub to the woodland stage, Audioweb make a slow start, the ambient haze of King slowly resolving itself despite the promise that it’s time to skank, but when the beat finally kicks in the place goes off. Hearing debut single Sleeper in the flesh can never a bad thing be, and the band deliver a nicely paced set that harks back to 1997, when the band were high up on the second stage at Reading and the whole world seemed to lie before them. They may not have achieved the heights they deserved, but it’s great to see them play with such obvious joy, and they are the perfect band for the woodland’s laidback vibe. 

Headlining the Pallet stage, Paul Heaton leans on a mix of The Housemartins and The Beautiful South to keep people hooked. For us, it’s a little twee, but for those who enjoyed the likes of Don’t Marry Her, Song For Whoever, and Good As Gold, it’s a well-performed set with plenty of opportunities to singalong. However, for SonicAbuse, it’s a little too mild-mannered, and we race off to the Meadow stage as soon as we’re able, where something darker stirs.

And here, with the stage wreathed in smoke and David Fincher lighting, The Sisters Of Mercy make their stand. While visually, the band make a strong impact from the outset, it’s a little touch and go when the band launch into Doctor Jeep / Detonation Boulevard for, while the band are giving it their all, Andrew Eldritch’s vocals are mixed somewhere in the depths, his gravelly tones only occasionally penetrating the murk. Fortunately, as the set progresses, so the vocals appear more frequently, and the likes of Dominion / Mother Russia, Marian, More, and I was Wrong all sound strong. Still, it’s a touch one-paced and it lacks the lift that tracks like Vision Thing might have provided, with only When I’m On Fire and On The Beach really capturing the corrosive power of which the band are capable when the mood takes them.

It ends, however, on a high – the stage lit up like some nightmarish club, as the band rattle through Temple Of Love, Lucretia My Reflection and This Corrosion, marking a potent finale to a sometimes frustrating set. 

Saturday

Following a spot of rain, Saturday morning is fresh, but the ground has absorbed the water nicely, and the festival continues unscathed. Following a calm morning in the campsite, we head to the Maui Waui stage for Dynamite and the Dinosaurs, an energetic pop-punk band with an emphasis on the latter half of that genre. With elements of Weezer and Green Day in their frazzled DNA, the band hit the stage hard with Hoover Manouvre – which blends some inspired, 50’s-style doo wop into the chorus – before keeping things going with the bouncy and entirely apt Giant Squid. It’s a solid, fun performance, delivered with plenty of energy, and we’ll be checking them out again.   

Over on the Pallet stage, The Lovely Eggs are celebrating twenty-five years of… well, something – whether it’s marriage or the band remains unclear, but the band are ready to up the ante with their heady brew of psychedelic, lo-fi punk rock which, on stage, takes on an acerbic Bikini Kill edge. From the heady and self-explanatory Intro into a brutal Witchcraft, the band are on fire. They follow up this storming opening with the loop-driven Magic Onion and the mid-tempo sleaze-grind of Dickhead, which looks to the music of Twin Peaks for its inspiration. With more than a few in the crowd sporting The Lovely Eggs t-shirts, it’s clear that this prolific duo are a hit with the Bearded Theory crowd and we can expect to see them back again soon. 

In contrast, the Meadow stage offers up the mellow sounds of Pan Amsterdam, a talented artist who neatly blends mid-90s indie with jazz, hip hop, and spoken word passages. It’s a unique mix and, although we only catch the tail end, it’s immediately apparent that this is an artist we need to explore further. 

It’s back to the pallet stage for the awesome force that is Terrorvision. The Bradford bruisers may be rivalling Kiss in terms of reunion and farewell tours (well, not quite), but they’re certainly not lacking in energy and Tony Wright, as ever, leads from the front, bouncing around like a man possessed. All the hits are here: My House, American TV (slightly marred by an out of tune guitar), an awesome Alice What’s The Matter, and D’ya Wanna Go Faster, all delivered with panache and awesome levels of enthusiasm. 

It’s not all perfect, Tequila remains pretty irritating, while Middleman also suffers the tuning curse but, by the time the band take the audience to Oblivion, the entire field is united in the desire to keep Terrorvision on stage for another hour or three. 

Pretty much the only queue we encounter the entire weekend comes courtesy of Stewart Lee, who has a mere half-hour slot over at the Woodland stage. As we arrive, the queue stretches back to the Convoy Cabaret stage, but it’s well managed and, against all odds, we make it in for the start. Fans of Stewart will already know what to expect – dour observations littered with wit and pop-culture references that hit hard and fast. Today, his targets include the odious Russell brand, whose rise to prominence still manages to baffle. He apparently cornered Lee once – “it was like being threatened by an 18^th century thesaurus”. Elsewhere, he riffs on the dangers of making observations that are later shown to be somewhat on the money and tears through a run of jokes, before concluding with a brief skit about the relative moral attributes of werewolves and vampires. With so short a set, he maintains a breathless pace and is hilarious throughout. 

It’s back to the Pallet stage for The Nova Twins, whose dizzying mix of rap, rock, nu-metal, and alternative neatly claws the genre away from its frat boy associations. With tracks like the monstrously heavy Fire & Iceand the Royal Blood-esque stomp of Cleopatra, which is dedicated to various underrepresented groups and the trans community in particular, the Nova Twins continue to delight with their ascent, and they have the crowd eating out of the palms of their hands. 

A short break allows us to grab some much-needed refreshment before it’s time for one of the weekend’s highlights in the form of Bentley Rhythm Ace, who thoroughly pack the Meadow stage with dancing fans. Formed by Richard March and Mike Stokes and led by EMF’s impossibly chirpy James Atkin, Bentley Rhythm Ace have a magic touch that allows them to distil joy into bursts of gloriously chaotic noise. By the time the band flow into the epic Bentley’s Going To Sort You Out (neatly interpolated with Unbelievable), the crowd are loved up, dancing from front to back as the band’s insane melange of big beats and dizzying samples set the place alight. We leave with grins plastered across our faces, and we’re not alone.  

It’s back to the pallet stage for the godfather of punk, Iggy Pop. Taking to the stage with a six-piece band that includes 2 guitarists, bassist, drummer, and a duo on brass / backing vocals, Iggy races through the hits with all the lithe-limbed energy of his youth, outpacing the youngsters and leaving the crowd awestruck at his sheer energy. 

It’s a hell of a set too. From the opening gambit of Mr Nobody, TV Eye and Raw Power, it’s clear that he’s going to give us everything and the audience respond in kind. Although there are moments, especially at the start, where the wind seems to snatch the vocals away, once things settle down, it’s a remarkably crisp sound for a band who often rely on bludgeoning power, with the addition of brass adding that extra edge that made the Montreux live album so special. Pretty much anything you could want is here – Lust For Life, The Passenger, I Wanna Be Your Dog… even a too-short snippet of Nightclubbing, which emerges from Frenzy, only to be swiftly beaten back into its box by a band on fire. 

Of the highlights, there are many. Search And Destroy evokes images of American streets overrun with Vietnam war protestors; I Wanna Be Your Dog sounds as feral as ever, while Real Wild Child elicits a huge cheer. 

What an artist. Iggy Pop sounds unstoppable, and he absolutely rules the main stage with his larger-than-life persona. 

But wait, the night is not done! It’s back to the meadow stage, still elated from Iggy’s performance, to catch the wonderful Ash, as they deliver a set of timeless classics and occasionally cautious new cuts.

With an eager audience and only an hour on the clock, the band can be forgiven for powering through and, truly, who can resist a set that starts with A Life Less Ordinary – a track of such quality, most bands would keep it for an encore. From there, the band charge headlong through Angel Interceptor, Orpheus, with its pounding tom introduction, Goldfinger, and Shining Light. The cheeky scamps even find time to drop in Harry Belafonte’s Jump In Line (although, in truth, many would have preferred another Ash original). Happily, the set wraps up with two unforgettable anthems – Girl From Mars and Burn Baby Burn, the latter immolating the stage as the crowd mosh for all they’re worth. It marks a splendid end to the second day of Bearded Theory and Ash do a fantastic job of reviving flagging energy levels with an irresistibly youthful performance. 

With Ash having provided a burst of energy at the night’s end, we find ourselves rather more awake than we might have expected. Fortunately, with bars and stages running until the wee small hours, we grab a drink and head back to the Meadow Stage to watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. It only attracts a smallish crowd, but there’s a great atmosphere with those present clearly enjoying reliving a classic film, and it provides both a chance to unwind and yet maintain that sense of being part of something.

Sunday 

Nursing slightly sore heads, we emerge blinking into the Sunday light to find the campsite baking and it takes a few hours to pull ourselves together. This we must do, however, for Shonen Knife are soon to take the stage. 

A legendary band, feted by Kurt Cobain and who once toured with Nirvana, Shonen Knife are a Ramones-loving punk band from Japan, whose colourful three-chord blasts never fail to evoke a smile. Today, their sound gets a little washed around by a wind which hurtles across the arena, but they soon cut through, getting the crowd dancing despite their early slot. From the Hey Ho Let’s Go – rush of Buttercup (I’m A Super Girl) and Twist Barbie, through newer fare like MUJINTO Rock and Vamos Taquitos, Shonen knife have super-fly levels of energy, and they get the day started with a bang. 

Over at the Meadow stage, things are rather more bizarre, with Slay Duggee racing around with inflatable sharks and singing songs about the titular animal. It’s all very silly, but the crowd seem to love it, and it’s a hell of a lot of fun. As such, they make a strong addition to the festival line up

The same cannot be said for the unbelievably twee Divorce, who sound like a tamer version of Belle and Sebastien, if such a thing were possible. Definitely not for us, although they surely seem talented at what they do, we flee the arena promptly. 

Fortunately, we have Brighton-based powerpop duo Arxx a few steps away, and they soon liven things up with a compelling mix of Yeah Yeah Yeah-esque disco pulse and just a hint of Royal Blood. They soon set the meadow stage off, sounding far larger than a two-piece band has any right to sound. 

Those expecting the Miki Berenyi Trio over at the Woodland are in for a surprise, for their place is taken by Bruise Control. A bruising [ahem] punk combo with a singer who looks like he auditioned for the Village People, and a nice line in hardcore in the vein of Pennywise and Sick of it All, Bruise Control are really damn good, offering up potent blasts of catchy punk such as Never Again and You’ll Never Be Forgiven. With the band’s final song interpolating Sabbath’s Paranoid (possibly repaying the artwork debt found on the band’s t shirts), they play a short, sharp, and memorable set. Great stuff! 

And then it’s time for the band of the day. 

Taking to the Meadow Stage, the awesome mclusky are back and at the top of their game thanks to stunning new album The World Is Still Here And So Are We. The set has it all – Collagen Rock, Lightsaber Cocksucking Blues (interpolating a few notes from Fuck This Band), Alan Is A Cowboy Killer – as well as a smattering of new tracks. Of these, Checkhov’s Guns is the winner, with its insanely addictive chorus, but it’s all fucking great. Sadly, with the set so short, there’s little time for the usual savage repartee, while the need to change instruments from time to time disrupts the flow in places. Nevertheless, it’s mclusky, and it’s a simply joy to see them on stage once again. Fucking awesome. 

Rather at the other end of the spectrum are Throwing Muses, whose airy indie rock has a haunting feel to it, not least thanks to Kristen Hersh’s intense presence and the band’s use of a cello in their lineup.  With tracks like Dark Blue sounding like the eerie cousin of Belly’s Low Red Moon and a frantic Bea recalling Sebadoh, the band are on fine form, offering up a set that combines the best of their back catalogue, with elements from new album Moonlight Concessions, from which the likes of Theramini are drawn, it’s a fantastic showing from a much-loved band. 

The buzz that fills the tent as Asian Dub Foundation go about the business of setting up is significant, with many opting to simply stay in place lest they lose their spot for this awesome act. Genuinely innovative, musically stunning, lyrically aware, ADF are one of the fiercest, finest live acts out there and they put on an all-too-brief musical display that has absolutely everyone in the tent, front to back, dancing from the get-go. 

Following an instrumental introduction that sees the band bridging together Realignment and Mindlock, this eclectic band take us on a wild ride through their awesome catalogue, unleashing blistering takes on La Haine and Flyover and awing the tent into submission with a flute / beatbox solo from Nathan that is as musically breathtaking as it is technically astonishing. And, of course, raising a squall at the heart of it all is the legendary Chandrasonic, who rings unique sounds out of his guitar, adding an eclectic third dimension to the band’s glorious sound. It’s an astonishing show, with the only disappointment being the absence of Comin’ Over Here – which would have been perfect had Stewart Lee remained on site.

It seems odd, given the band’s longevity and stature, to try to explain just how antagonistic the Manic Street Preachers once were. Not that they don’t still tackle difficult subjects with intelligence; but the edges have been filed away as the band’s focus on mass communication has softened the razor edge they once deployed. It’s a tension that hangs over their live show for, while the band have now amassed an impressive catalogue of fifteen albums, there will forever be a portion of the audience for whom the first three or four will be the only ones that matter. Perhaps that’s true of all bands who go on to have a substantial career, but more so for a band whose early aura was one of apocalypse. And therein lies the rub, for the Manics have always been mercurial. The sonic shift from the hedonistic rock ‘n’ roll of that debut to the murky horror of the still unassailable Holy Biblecould so easily have been the work of two wholly different bands, if it wasn’t for that voice and the tongue twisting lyrics supplied (at that point) by both Richie James and Nicky Wire. 

As a result, you can never be entirely sure what the Manics will do in the live situation – will they lean on their new material, cleave to the wishes of a feather boa brigade who (surprisingly) are markedly few in number at Bearded Theory, or opt for mass communication. Tonight, for the most part, it is the latter, although they do play the odd wild card. 

Unexpectedly, given this is not necessarily their crowd, the band opt to open with material from the new album – a truncated Critical Thinking intro tape giving way to the sublime majesty of Decline And Fall – a track that captures some of the melancholic beauty of the band’s Everything Must Go era. From there, the band zig zag through their history. Motorcycle Emptiness is dispatched early in the set along with La Tristesse (one of only two songs aired from the criminally unloved Gold Against The Soul), with a surprise digression to Enola Alone in between. Australia still sounds immense, the addition of a second guitarist giving the track a chunkiness that brings it to life and the same could be said of You Stole The Sun From My Heart, which has a good portion of the crowd singing and dancing.

Having successfully captured the audience, the Manics set about throwing a few sonic curveballs. The lovely Let Robeson Sing is a delightful surprise, while the hard-edged Take Me To The Bridge sounds more like a Holy Bible offcut than ever, that dark, metronomic bassline reminding us that Nicky can still summon a troubling undercurrent when the mood takes him, even if the chorus provides some relief. Nicky remains centre stage with a wonderful rendering of Hiding In Plain Sight, a poignant single that renders his self-deprecating “it’s only for one song” entirely redundant, his vocals far stronger than he ever credits them to be. 

The surprises keep coming. Following a gorgeous Autumn Song, the band throw out A Design For Life with an insouciance that surprises many for whom it has long been their encore number. However, this absolute classic arguably pales in the face of a sublime reading of Ready For Drowning, played solo by James and sung partly in Welsh. This, along with a partially solo Everlasting, has the majority of the crowd enthralled, the poignancy of the songs given deeper meaning by the stripped-bare performance. 

From there, the band race to the end of an ecstatic set. Your Love Alone, an epic From Despair To Where, a surprising and rather lovely International Blue, a ferocious You Love Us (true) and, of course, If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next, sounding more prophetic than ever in the era of populism and given a powerful full stop by a monumental firework display.  

The Manic Street Preachers have been many things but, over many years of quiet evolution, they have become a timeless rock band possessed of an empathy that was only hinted at on those early, breakneck releases. Today, although the band continue to rage against the dying of the light, they do so in a more measured manner, and they seem far more comfortable in their own skins. Thus, while still capable of breaking hearts with lyrics that capture the nature of living through turbulent events, the music soothes rather than savages, as if the band want to support their audiences through their troubles. 

With the screens reminding us of both who they are and who they were, the Manic Street Preachers have learned to live with an uneasy history and, tonight, they delivered a truly glorious performance that suggests they still have a good deal left to achieve. 

For us, the Manic Street Preachers mark an emotional end to a remarkable festival. For others, there’s still so much left to do and, as we head out of the arena, the ever-wonderful Leftfield are putting on an intense show in the Meadow stage. We’re sad to miss them, but work beckons and it’s a brisk drive home for us. 

Thursday morning – a summing up

Even as a festival veteran, the emotional jolt that came with returning to reality came as something of a surprise. As we drove past the festival’s lights, it felt like we were leaving somewhere truly magical and, in many ways, we were. The focus on creating an immersive experience was reflected in the magical look that Bearded Theory took on from the outside – all gauzy lights and bright colours, with nary a billboard in sight. Inside the festival, for a few brief days, the troubles of the real world evaporated, and we found ourselves chatting with strangers, exploring a wealth of new music, and simply living in the moment. In short, the festival provided a calm oasis amidst an increasingly hectic existence. 

Even now, a few days later, it feels more as if I’ve been on holiday than at a festival, and while physically tired, there’s a sense of being emotionally recharged. Perhaps that sounds a little hyperbolic in these increasingly cynical times, but everyone with whom we travelled felt much the same suggesting that the organisers’ approach really does work. It marks Bearded Theory out as something rather more than the average festival and it is a great testament to the enduring spirit of the festival that any temptation to expand the festival has been resisted in favour of maintaining the special atmosphere for which Bearded Theory has become renowned.

For all of the above and more, Bearded Theory is pretty much the perfect festival. Truly unique, it has to be experienced to be fully understood, and it is no surprise that a good number of people with whom we spoke go year on year on year, often booking without any word of the line up. We were excited to go this year but, even having been previously, there was something special in the air at Bearded Theory 2025 and, from the acts to the environment, we could not have had a better time.