Cambridge Diary 2006
Alice Ralph

Sunday

8:30am
Panic! The pole supporting the corner of the tent over mine and Bea’s compartment has buckled and looks set to collapse! If it rains then we are destined to face another night in wet clothes. I am convinced that there is some conspiracy against my camping situation – first the inflatable mattress and now it is my part of the tent that is broken. I console myself with a deluxe vegetarian breakfast from Sainsburys and doing a Bea and lying flat out on my face for a while, trying to recover slightly. I am now really feeling the Festival Fatigue, as we have officially titled it. 

10:00am
The main part of today is being spent lying around in the sun, drinking Pimms and generally trying to cope with sheer exhaustion. Not much as else to report since much of it is spent dozing. Oh, and trying to fix the tent pole.

1:30pm
We drag ourselves into the Main Tent to catch the end of John Tams and Barry Coope, all of which is a little, well… folky for my liking, talented (and popular) as they obviously are. My parents scold Bea and me for having missed Rodrigo y Gabriela, making us swear an oath that we will watch their second performance later tonight on Stage 2. We stick around for Capercailie since they are obligatory folk-viewing, and am neither disappointed nor overly-enamoured with them, although their hardcore fans stomp around us as we sit exhausted on our small blanket, doing Sudoku and sipping beer – there is something incredibly civilised about Cambridge Folk Festival that you don’t find at other festivals!

3:10pm
We have been waiting to see John Butler Trio performance, having missed out on much of the first show since the photographers are kicked out after three songs. It is no exaggeration when I say that this was one of the highlights of any of my many Cambridge Folk Festival memories, and alongside the Rodrigo y Gabriela set that I will see later, it is some of the finest guitar playing that I have ever seen. Absolutely breathtaking. Also, I have never seen the main tent so packed for a non-headlining artist – the calls for an encore were (as always) to no avail but I haven’t seen the audience try so hard for one before. I make an attempt to leave the main tent to get to the media caravan in time for Eddi Reader’s set but the tent is so packed that it takes me 20 minutes to walk the couple of hundred feet from where I was sitting to the meeting point. I arrive late but luckily there are stewards kind enough to run me to the Main Stage and join the other photographers.

4:14pm
Eddi Reader: what is there to say apart from “dramatic arm-movements”? She has wonderful stage presence and plays up to the music, performing as much with her hands as she does her voice and making for a wonderful subject to photograph. The light is ideal, she is interesting to watch, and most importantly she makes the audience laugh, although I learn later that she also made my mother cry (2004 it was Mindy Smith, 2005 it was Mary Gauthier, and 2006 it was Eddi Reader’s turn to open the flood-gates). Afterwards I grab some lunch and stick around to photograph Mozaik, who are mostly interesting to photograph because of member Nikola Parov who produces some of the most bizarre-looking instruments that I have ever seen.

7:10pm
There is barely a person in the audience who is not amazed when they hear of Bettye Lavette’s age; at 60 years old she is a hundred times more athletic and energetic than I am (although that’s not saying much). It is good to see something slightly different on Cambridge’s stage this year; although the music is still magical; there has been a lack of previous years’ variety and experimentation. Her show reminds me of Jimmy Cliff’s performance a couple of years ago, when he did the splits live onstage; although I am almost as disappointed to find that Bettye Lavette is not pronounced “Betty Lavetty” as the man standing next to us at Jimmy Cliff’s performance was to find that it was not, in fact, Cliff Richard on the bill.

8:30pm
I meet at the media liaison to find all the other photographers gossiping over rumours that Emmylou Harris had demanded 6 caravans for herself and entourage. I am quite excited about the prospect of a J-Lo-diva about to grace our stage, but realise that I will only have time to spend one song photographing her before I will have to run back around to Stage 2 to photograph Rodrigo y Gabriela. In the pit there are so many photographers and cameramen that it is almost as packed on that side of the barrier as it is on the audience’s side. I find myself pinned between hoards of photographers, and with just a couple of minutes in which to photograph, I have to shoot so many images so quickly that I barely have time to look at Emmylou Harris herself (except through the lens), never mind listen to her music, before I literally have to crawl under the legs of photographers to get out.

8:55pm
The plus side of every single photographer at the festival being at Emmylou Harris’ performance is that the photographers pit for Rodrigo y Gabriela’s set is utterly empty except for myself and a couple of security guards. It is an unimaginable luxury to take photographs without being thwacked over the head by 3-foot-long zoom lenses, and I effectively spend my time walking from one end of the stage to the other purely for the novelty of it, and even take the liberty of watching the audiences reactions and faces from the front for a minute or two. And fantastic reactions they are too, since this Mexican duo are one of the most talented musicians that I have ever been lucky enough to see perform. After my three numbers in the pit, I hopped round to watch the rest of their set from the side of the stage. For those who remember the amazing finale to last years festival that was Manuel Budino, once again there was the same electric atmosphere to the Radio 2 stage as Rodrigo y Gabriela performed their final set this year. Pure magic, and although it wasn’t the last set that night, Bea and I propped each-other up and stumbled to the hot cider stall before collapsing in a corner, utterly exhausted and finally beaten by the festival. The perfect end to the weekend!

Monday

8:45am
Goodbye, Cambridge Folk Festival. We bid our sad goodbye with a final visit to Sainsbury’s café, and eventually decide that our beloved tent can take no more and is laid to rest in the rubbish heap, last words and all.

8:46am
A woman is spotted carrying the remnants of our tent over her shoulder back across the campsite, probably mistaking it for merely unloved as opposed to unsalvageable. Good luck, lady. We’ll see you next year in our proper tent, as you struggle with snapped tent poles. Overall, a fabulous weekend all round, I feel!