23rd-27th July 2009. Abbots Ripton, nr Huntingdon


Outside here, in the twilight blue,
You don't find the way, the way finds you.



Bubbling acidic, I stumbled onto these words in Secret, and they summed up the Garden for me perfectly. This is a festival where, try as you might, you are not in full control of your experience. I saw very little of what I planned, and was shown much more than I expected. My plans were constantly overturned by better things; things stumbled upon, drifted into, dragged towards. Words: Tyler McGee
Pics: Will Poole

So how best to pass on the secret? How to whisper to you the strange, homespun beauty of this festival? The perceptive reader will already have grasped the main thrust of my thoughts: it was a joy, a thing of wonder, and a pleasure as full-bodied as any shampoo. For four days, I had the time of my life: people were kind, settings were beautiful, music was awesome and varied, and art was perfect, and at times even challenging.

The theme of the event was a marriage between Babylon and Eden, between their conflicting symbols and mythologies. On the Eden side: sustainability, love, and all things green and hippified - on the other: hardcore hedonism, lust and a full on desire for distraction. Each festivalgoer had been told on their ticket what they were (I was an Edenite) and over four days SGP proposed to bring together the two sides together in a ritual wedding ceremony, teaching us all a profound lesson in enjoyment.

According to the programme, the first day was the 'engagement party', and this was an apt title for the first day at SGP. I drew the easy straw in the entrance queue, and ended up sitting with the bags at the top of the line, waiting for the others to arrive. Kotched there in a tall pixie hat, I was able to engage in some serious people-watching. Nothing builds excitement better than watching the smiling faces of your betrothed - and sitting there I knew that this would be a wedding to remember.

Thefestivalgrounds: described

We got ourselves in and made a break for the festival. The site was green and beautiful. The half closest to us was Eden - full of cute, soft art, and quirky stalls. Here, directly ahead of the entrance, was the Chai Wallah Tent, which could always be counted on for a cup of chai, a shisha, a sofa and some good live music. It was one of the many examples of the independent stages, tents and cafes that offered stunning foodstuffs, varied atmosphere, and music.

But back to Eden: Here there were body painting stalls and 'Pimp my Clothes' - everything you could need to join in with the crazy costumes, if you had come unprepared. The music was chilled, and the vibe very relaxed - you could even get lost in a room stuffed full of downy cushions, pillows and soft duvets; the 'La of Soft Things' was a cuddly sanctuary in the centre of an already sanctified Eden.

The festival had been beautifully laid out, with a lake providing a stunning centrepiece with Eden and Babylon on either side. Constructed in the centre of the lake, at the heart of the festival, was the Tower of Babel. Built on a floating, raving-platform only accessible by boat; it was always full of dancing people and sunny music. There were regular ferries to the Tower, as well as private boats, which could be borrowed for a quick sail on the crystal-clear lake. The lake was stunning, with an area set aside for swimming. Joy! With the tower in site, we crossed the long bridge into Babylon.

We found our way into this part of the festival site through the strange 'Paradise Reclaimed' installation. This was an odd piece of art, with the powerful focus being a man impaled on a spike, suspended in apparent agony; large, flaccid cock on show. He hung, tortured, outside of Primrose Cottage; an odd assortment of strange gremlin-esque statues, candles, torn-apart sofas, graffiti, and a general sense of organised disarray. Full of half-shaped faces in the trees, this was a perfect introduction to Babylon - though at times macabre, somehow the details added up to something fascinating, beautiful, and strangely compelling.

This was indeed the counterpoint to Eden. Stalls and stages here were less about creation and relaxation; more about random distraction and decadent fun. Here lay 'Richard Scrotelington's Ball-Pit O' Delights' with its 20,000 multicoloured balls, and the hysterical 'Collo'silly'um', where rubber chickens were flung in strange battles and mud-pit brawls were known to break out. The music in Babylon was more rocky, more dancy, more intense, and I must admit that most of my favourite acts of the weekend were on this side.

Well, enough description of the grounds. Without having been, you will not be able to imagine the festival in its fullness. Suffice to say that it was very good, and filled me with a sense of wanderlust - a desire to search out enjoyment - a sense that around the next corner or up the next tree would be a new marvel. Like a good acid trip, the festival threw strangeness in your face, and startled you afresh on a regular basis.

Engagement Party - Thursday's Highlights

After a day full of wandering about fairly aimlessly, the night was an engagement party to remember. It was a slow start-up, but by sundown I was already finding music worth a good old-fashioned knees up. My first real surprise was the Silent Disco, which was less gimmicky and more enjoyable than it first appeared. The ability to take off the headphones and have an easy conversation was a pleasure, and it I never tired of the confused looks from passersby who couldn't work out what was going on. There were even the few who joined in, regardless of not hearing any music at all!

Other than the Silent Disco, we spent that night in a cafe playing minimal and organic house. When the cafe closed for the evening we migrated to a sweaty tent on the Eden border, which seemed to have been invaded by Babylon en masse. Playing d&b, breaks, and old school hip-hop to an excited crowd, the stage was soon filled with hard ravers, and beautiful girls, who before my eyes were being stalked by a psychedelic pimp, complete with purple wide-brimmed hat. Twice I tried to escape for some much-needed rest, but was dragged back by songs too good to miss. It was only the early morning, and already it felt like Friday's promise of a stag/hen party was coming true.

Stag Party - Friday's Highlights

Friday managed to be a wonderful day, despite a little bit of rain. I began the day with a breakfast of LSA and LSD. While the concoction sank in, we danced to reggae, and wandered in the sun. I felt the acid smile begin to creep over my face while lying on the grass watching the Ghett'o'lympics: contestants in gangsta-style fancy dress tossing massive spliff-shaped javelins, racing the 100m stolen goods race, and trying to hop at speed with both feet in a huge single golden shoe...

Then the rain began, and we went out on a hunt for music. My first real highlight of the weekend was seeing the Resonators play, at the Valley of Antics. Deep dub and reggae, played with an easy flair by a full band, complete with horns and two beautiful women singing up the sun. God could have sent his all his floodwaters, and they never would have made it into the tent.

The acid frenzy still to set in, I was lucky enough to catch some good old-fashioned rock. A powerhouse of funspazzpoprock, the Ten Bears were and still are my favourite band of the festival. They were clichéd, hysterical, and catchy enough to set a 12 year old girl alight, all mixed in with a stage show like an introvert turned outrageous extrovert by some infectious rhythm.

Flopping around to wobbly dubstep in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, a massive purple tent set up to look like a temple, with plants on the wall, pillars, and massive pictures of Nebuchadnezzar, I began to really feel the frenzy coming on. It was time to join the masses in their fancy dress, and get weirded up. It was time to put on my mask and wander the festival, another strange costumed expression of the freedom and creativity of Secret Garden Party.

I went back to the campsite, ducked into my tent, and came out a new man. A more naked man. I wore a slim vest, my white pants (with a fig leaf stitched to the front, obviously), and my green mask - made for me by my close friend, with leaves as hair and a beautiful flower on the top.

What followed were a few hours that are slightly more difficult to describe than the rest of the festival. Suffice to say that I managed to involve and engage myself completely, in a way that doesn't happen very often. All was fraught with significance and meaning, and the smiles of others built a smile on my lips that left my cheek muscles exhausted

One of the great things about Secret Garden Party is the overwhelmingly creativity. Art hits you from top, bottom, left and right: from the organisers, the musicians, the installations, the independent tents and the costumes of the festival-goers themselves. You can (I did, anyway) swan off the bridge, after talking to an elderly gentleman dressed as a huge flower about the benefits of swimming after midnight, and see four Egyptian gods looking confused. Finally they duck into a fireplace, randomly placed next to a bed, in the grass. You follow them, bending down and creeping through a small fireplace, and come out of a wardrobe into an outdoor living room, complete with lamps, sofas and a coffee table. Bemusing? Yes. Entertaining? Hell, yes.

The lines between festival and festivalgoer, between performer and spectator, are blurred magnificently at this festival. Discussing the significance of art and creativity in the human spirit with two boys dressed as nuns, in only my pants and a mask, while admiring one of the greatest sculptures I have ever seen - Beauty and the Beast by artist Matt Robinson - we could only marvel at the freedom and spontaneous creativity that we had been blessed with that weekend.

I soon found my friends and after a short break to enjoy some shisha in the Chai Wallah tent, I put on some warmer clothing and went on the hunt for some music, preferably something with some grime. And promptly found all the grime I could hope for in the Valley of Antics tent. The hip-hop group Foreign Beggars put on a mental set, spitting quick lyrics over dubstep and jump-up drum and bass. They pulled one of the biggest crowds of the weekend, and seemed genuinely in love with the audience. We, in turn, were sorry to see them go.

Heading to the club tent, we were getting prepared for a big night - Freeland live, Subfocus, and then Qemists followed by Caspa. However, we were in for a bit of disappointment. The Dance Rocks vs. Ninja Tent (where the Silent Disco had so impressed me the night before) didn't seem to do so well when the sound was coming through speakers, rather than headphones. The quality of sound needed to support bass-heavy music was simply not there, and they seemed determined to keep the volume level down low. Even a crowd full of people shouting 'Turn it up' could barely get the soundman to budge an inch, and we didn't stay for long. Subfocus' set just didn't have the same potency without the volume. This was one of the few faults of the festival, and we saw a few issues with volume levels over the weekend.

However, we were not daunted, nor dismayed. There is always some fun to be found, and after a small wander we found ourselves in a little red loveshack, with a tiny entrance that opened on a dance floor big enough for 15, at a push. In there, enjoying a champagne lovepotion brewed by one of the bartenders, we danced the night away.

The Wedding - Saturday's Highlights

Saturday, early morning, it was impossible to sleep; I was still filled with adrenaline from the previous day. I decided to wander the festival in the small hours, seeing the whole thing in the dark. Staggering blind, near the Primrose Cottage (that dilapidated art installation with the impaled man), I saw one of the most frightening sights I have seen as a grown man: a cage, surrounded by men, in gas masks, lurking and shining torches into the faces of those passing by. Eyes blinded by the light, I finally saw into the cage, only to find that they were guarding a man dressed in a huge baby costume.

That was enough for me, and I had to go find somewhere warm, with light and people. Luckily there were large bonfires lit at various places around the festival, and neither warmth nor companionship was hard to come by. I ended up at the Small World Solar Stage, in Eden - a stage powered solely by solar power. I sat there, K-lapsing for a small while, enjoying soft, acoustic jazz, as the sun began to rise.

Lying on a sofa under a tree, I watched the sunrise on the sunniest day of the festival in a state of complete relaxation. But here, I must make a confession. My Saturday from this point on was mostly a write-off, due to a total of 2 hours sleep since Thursday morning. There is little I can report of that gloriously sunny day, except that the warmth was sweet, the wind was cool, and laying in the sun is most lovely. I missed everything, even the burning of the Tower of Babel. I am assured by friends that the fireworks, Chinese lanterns, burning tower and music provided by Rodrigo y Gabriella were truly an awesome climax to the festival. It is a severe shame that I missed it, but there is a lesson here for anyone who is considering going to Secret Garden Party next year: This festival is not a pill-fuelled rave-a-thon.

Staying up all night is fun, but you will get much more out of the weekend if you go to bed at three and arise early for the festivities. It is a daytime festival, and though the evenings are very good, you wouldn't want to make my mistake, and end up missing something really stunning.

That said, I still managed to catch one golden act that day: DubFX. A one-man-band, with extraordinary beat-box skills and a clever little loop pedal, managed to drop some jokes beats and wicked reggae. We missed him at the Chai Wallah tent, but were lucky enough to catch him doing an impromptu performance on the green. With a brilliant sense of humour, and a keen eye for a good beat, he kept onlookers amazed and dancing. He even encouraged passersby to sing, play guitar and beat-box with him - one of the best of these was a young boy, no more than 8 or 9, with a garish blingin' gold dollar-sign hung round his neck, who managed to bust out some jungle rhythms leaving us bemused and impressed.

The Reception - Sunday's Highlights

After a day lost, Sunday was an attempt to get back into the thick of things. However, with the day a lot less sunny than the day before, and the tower already burnt down, it did feel a bit of an anti-climax. Still, there was still a lot of fun to be had. In fact, Sunday was the day that the independent tents and stalls really came into their own. Many were checking out the odd attractions that they hadn't made it to yet, and a good few were busy getting creative.

Reflecting back, most highlights from that day were DJs in strangely decorated small tents around the festival. Some seriously bouncy psytrance (a genre sadly lacking representation at SGP) in a circus style tent stocked with lasers, and later, some electro-house cum dubstep craziness in a green inflatable tent- it was never hard to find something to listen to.

I had been looking forward to seeing Zero 7, but sadly they played in a tiny venue that quickly filled out beyond capacity. Many were forced out into the rain, and those that stayed had to contend with poor sound levels, and a generally poor show by the famous group.

The music ended far too soon, with an 11pm curfew on the sound, and with that gone we ended up crashed out in Chai Wallah. Strangers relaxed and chatted together, waiting for the adrenaline to subside and sleep to feel possible. Impromptu shows were played by travelling minstrels - with a double bass, guitar, accordion, trumpet and a piano all playing at different points in the evening. It was a perfect way to end the festival, and though Sunday had been perhaps less impressive then the previous days, we were all wholly satisfied with the entire event.

Letstryfor a conclusion.

This is a festival that excels on every level. It is gloriously creative, still wonderfully independent, despite its size, and it allows a freedom of expression and involvement that I have not felt at other festivals. You are free to wrestle in mud, dance until dawn, swim naked in the lake, anything that takes your fancy as long as it is done with abandon. It is the best part of the freedom we enjoy in the west. It is the most beautiful expression of our inventiveness, our ability to imagine, and our individuality that I have seen. It's just a shame we can't live life with this much freedom, and this much positive stimulus. It's a crying shame that art doesn't liberate us to this level on a constant basis. This festival is an advertisement for the power of art.More info www.secretgardenparty.com

So make sure you get a ticket for 2010. I'm hopefully going to be travelling by that time, but I am seriously considering coming back just for this. Imagine childhood, except you get to do it as an adult. This is the lesson of Secret Garden Party: - Live, Laugh, Dream and be Free.