The Secret Garden Party is arguably the most successful of the boutique festivals - if success is counted by expanding the numbers (increasing five-fold since I went in 2007) whilst retaining the original spirit and atmosphere. In fact by all accounts the Secret Garden party has actually got increasingly good over time - inviting more and more niche companies and groups of friends with crazy ideas for entertainment, from badger and backstreet snail racing to the Kissing Den or Asstrology tent.
So, having missed the last three summer festivals, we were a little excited for the Lost Lovers ball - especially as it was being held in Battersea Power Station. And it did not disappoint.
Serenaded by megaphoned moviestars from the 1950s as we walked across the barren concrete to the four-towered brick icon towering above us and the river, then assaulted as we moved through into the empty heart of the building - filled for the night with a huge conservatory style marquee and inside that a dozen different areas, tents and stages. Essentially it was a full festival crammed into a single building (albeit a rather large one) and night (ditto).
At first it felt a little empty and strange to be switching straight into the very different mindset that a festival both engenders and needs, but over the night as more people flooded in, the booze flowed and the music warmed up the switch did gradually happen. Or it might even have actually switched more instantly - we had been expecting the night to finish at 1am (which it turned out was just last entries). So we were pleasantly surprised when the rather pedestrian DJ finished and - instead of being thrown out - we were invited to the multicolour light up dance-floor boxing ring to witness a dance-off of extraordinary theatre as well as moves. We're still not sure exactly how many of the contenders were plants, but what is sure everyone of them could move. More than that - the audience was encouraged to be incredibly involved and somehow it suddenly had the abandon and flair of a genuine festival night.
We moved back into the main arena and, again, felt like it might be winding down. Then a rather overdone man (in both outfit and approach) announced a final band - The Correspondents. Which seemed to be just one guy. In a cloak. Singing a rather maudlin Antony and the Johnsons style ballad. No, this isn't right, we need some umph, something extraordinary - we're ready to go - IT"S ready to go OFF we cried! (I'll admit we were a little drunk). But the singer responded - by shedding his cloak to reveal a golden jumpsuit, jumping onto a treadmill and starting the most incredibly energetic and extraordinary set I have seen in years. I couldn;t quite describe it for the days after, but now I've been to their website I can tell you they 'revamp vintage sounds for the modern ear'. Which basically means taking old dance-hall classics and putting a drum and bass and dubstep over the bottom and some kind of insane beatbox singing over the top. And everyone went nuts for them, and quite a lot for each-other too it seemed...
What it comes down to - at the end of the day - is having a great venue yes, but more than that the right performers and an the right crowd. Everything else is just dressing (up)...
Photos courtesy of Cathy Otty. Thank you...
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