By the 3 rd song, the bears clambered back onstage to do a funky ska skank teaching us that maybe we should go easy on the not-so wild wildlife after all. As if by magic, his friend in a bearsuit was romping around the crowd, chasing an invisible bee that’s stolen his honey, like the non-threating grizzly pooh-bear that he is. The singer, and only he knew his name, maybe tattoed on his forehead backwards under his fringe, I dunno because I had a perplexing drunken conversation with him the next day (I was sober) about the magic elements of carrying green and black chairs, he writhed, jumped, screamed, and told us not to kill bears. This was Eh? No, I said Eh? Damn, ‘EH?’ Oh fuck, you know, like the ‘?’ in ‘Therapy?’ They were, without a doubt -and let’s pause for that killer effect but it’ll build too high so your expectations might be a little, urm, dashed- the least likeliest band ever to open the Wickerman festivals main stage wearing…pink. Probably off trying to annoy someone in Wales then which means the loser couldn’t have got a ticket.Ī hairy tit in the South Park-gayest cabaret jacket jumped on stage with the worst handlebar moustache this side of (name withheld). I said it three times into a mirror before I left. This truly is a Scottish festival and nobody in the world parties quite like the Scottish.
3 years old with a choice line-up over two days that gives off the Glasto vibe but without the 3 day trek to the opposite side of the arena to see someone you never liked in the first place. The WickerMan wasn’t just the latest festival to cash in on the ‘alternative’ scene.
#Wickerman festival us did you go to it free
Warming sunshine during the day, cool beer and queue free clean toilets, acres of green grass, talkative strangers and a 30ft Wicker effigy of a human sacrifice brilliantly burning up the midnight ned-free skies of South West Scotland.
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