A perfect festival day: Sheffield’s Get Together reviewed

“Ahh, it’s the same weekend as The Great Escape,” I told my friend and colleague Dale when he first brought the festival to my attention, tagging about 20 heartbroken emojis at the end. But as the days went by, that image of my dream day became more appealing. I find that the more I spend in the south, the more northern I become. The battle between the two festivals was like a conflict between my northern roots and my adopted home in the south, asking me to make a decision between them. Then, as the Brighton festival descended further into disarray, making it clear that the atmosphere there was never going to live up to what I’d fantasized about, the excuse not to be in Sheffield felt increasingly tenuous . “Hell, I’ll do both.”

But then, at 8am, when I started the first leg of the journey, it seemed like a really, really stupid idea. The adrenaline of making the train on time, mixed with the nausea of ​​a few too many shots of baby Guinness the night before, tasted like complete and utter dread. I cursed myself for my decision. I further cursed myself for being the kind of person who cannot, for the life of me, sleep, and I cursed my friend and travel companion, Beth, for being the kind of person who can.

We originally planned to play hooligans, joking that we were reclaiming train soles from the rowdy football boys, who usually have the craft nailed. We bought boxes beforehand but they just sat warming in our bags as the thought was utterly repulsive. “Why did we think we were going to drink those?” Beth said, worrying aloud about the fate of the day, “Actually, I don’t know if I can handle another pint.

But after five long hours, two trains, a Pret sandwich and a failed attempt to do anything productive or entertaining with the time, I landed in Sheffield. The sun was beating down hotter and brighter than in Brighton. Everything was going to be fine. Within an hour of landing, the beer tasted better than ever and the trip was worth it.

In Brighton, the festival felt like an unscratched itch. In the midst of the moral debate, the atmosphere was rightly lost. No one wanted to have fun while we were on our way there to work, so no one did. Instead, it was heavy with a sense of obligation, as the music industry bosses at the beach just wanted to pop in and out, write our articles, and do our best to report the situation as we navigated it.

But at Get Together, the itch was scratched again and again as I said out loud what a great time I was having. Femur destroyed all the cobwebs left from the long journey, with their status as punks and local heroes. They are a Sheffield staple so when they took to the stage the crowd gave them the welcome they deserved. Mickey Nonimono followed with his distinctive Baxter Dury energy. With his witty lyricism and captivating aura, the crowd was slightly confused by his vibe, but totally on board with it. Alongside, Ellie Bleach showcased her storytelling styles in the city. Afterwards, while sipping a Kelham Island Brewery beer, a stranger approached her and said: “Please come to Sheffield again! We can find a way to get you here if you come to play again.” None of us could believe it, all wide-eyed and amazed at such a sweet stage of generosity and the best kind of praise.

The whole day put me in one of those moods where I wanted to talk to strangers, freed from the London shackles of needing a slight “leave me alone” air. I was making new friends, catching up with those I hadn’t seen in years, and putting away the Campari spritzes as the beautiful weather called for a higher level of luxury in my drinking. Totally out of touch with Brighton in both geography and atmosphere, the energy of the festival shone through. I had the feeling that absolutely everyone had the best day. Optimism radiated from every face and laughter layered on the streets between venues. The festival always promised good music, but what it really delivered was a good day out plain and simple.

By the time CMAT took the stage to a packed warehouse, she was just the delicious cherry on top of an absolutely Saturday ice cream sundae. Then capturing the final moments of Picture Parlor making a change at Church, proving to be the next generation of headliners, was the added sprinkle. I thought to myself, “I like music. I love my friends. I love Sheffield.” Right there, as my perfect list became just a minor detail to the perfect festival day, I loved my life and ignored the looming thought of the long drive home.

Similar topics