BOOMtown

Boomtown

Boomtown, the festival where all your unconscious phantasies come to life – It would truly be Freud’s paradise. The festival is constructed like a town and organised around a narrative in which different areas and districts contain theatrical characters and stories, interwoven through performances over the course of the festival. How to turn it into words? I’ll soon find out.

I arrived at boomtown in a truly bamboozled state. I was dropped off on the wrong side of this massive festival (home to over 35 stages) and due to my poor sense of direction and lacksidasical attitude, I found myself somehow lost inside the festival walls, trying to dodge the security guards and ironically break out of the festival to get a wristband. What a pickle I was in. An hour after wandering around aimlessly, I ended up in Whistlers Green – the lovely, healing side of the festival situated amongst cornfields, how apt it was. I didn’t even think such a section would even exist at a festival like boomtown that was renowned for it’s grimy, grotty underground scene. The sky was dark and time was ticking until the ticket office closed, so I unwillingly declined an invitation to camp with the hippies for a night as I’d already committed to the ASBO Disco crew. Our stage was in the centre of the Red Light district, part of downtown with opposite vibes and at the opposite end of the festival from Whistlers Green. I gave them a cuddle and was sent off with a tribe of teenagers in high vis’ that lead me into more new territory. Strolling along I finally felt like I’d hit a spot of luck as they happily took all my bags off me and I followed behind them. But then we reached a gate and as they handed me my bags I felt the burden return. A confused look washed over everyone’s face and I realised they had no idea where they were going either. Shit. It’d been 3 hours since I’d arrived now and I had 20 minutes to get my wristband before the ticket office shut. With the last rush of adrenaline I ran through uptown mayfair, passed the half constructed sets, through the psytrance forest and towards huge metal constructions with hundreds of digital eyes, opening and closing at different times all around me. I made it 5 minutes before the booth closed, locked eyes with a steward that caved in and gave me my golden ticket. IN.

The ASBO Crew

Once I’d calmed down from my manic state, found the site and the crew we went on a tour of the empty grounds to get a feel for the land before the punters arrived…

As the sun rose into the centre of the sky the next day, I stood in the centre of the bowl-shaped ground where the original festival used to be held before it expanded to its surrounding valleys. The punters were beginning to arrive now – streaming into the camping grounds like ants on honey. The empty fields around me were soon a colourful patchwork quilt of tents and the buzz was beginning to rise. I went for a wander up the dreaded infinite staircase that connected downtown with uptown. Just as I’d reached Whistlers Green, gasping for breath, I saw a beautiful sight that made me stop. Positioned perfectly in-between 2 trees, a couple lay in a four-poster bed, adorned with vines and flowers in the middle of a miniature forest. A dining table with 12 chairs stood nearby, ready with a china tea set for the forest fairies to dine… I was getting butterflies “JESS!” I was shaken out of my reverie and turned around to face the sound and see J, a festival friend that I’d been bumping into in various magical fields around the country… the beauty of synchronicity that festivals create amazes me; that magnetism that draws you to those you know despite however many thousands of people and activities there are.

The ASBO Crew

Later that day, I was born into Boomtown. Re-emerging as an ASBO girl in chunky chains, adidas hoodies and sports bras, I'd found my alter ego. The look was chavy, the vibe dutty and the attitude cheeky. Along with my other ASBO girls I re-awoke my love for theatre – when else do we get to perform in such a menacing way and where best to do it but a huge, 5 day music and chem fuelled performance that perfectly merges narrative with improvisation. This year, the chapter of the boomtown book was Revolution and the Boominati were the big dogs on the block. They controlled the boomtown currency that could be found everywhere; if one were to really get their act together (although I didn’t meet anyone that managed it) they could play the game and collect all the hidden numbers at various stages. If they presented the correct sequence of numbers to the bank, a vault would be opened with a secret prize hidden inside.

Muti was the king of the underground in which we lived. A district laden with some serious characters, the hardcore garage girls being one of my favourites as they skanked to DnB on derelict boom-cars, wearing tight leather with half-shaved heads and tattoos streaking their faces. By night it became a multi-dimensional dungeon rave with characters in futuristic suits flipping on blades, hanging from ropes and spinning in hoops; each group battling it out with synchronised dances to live freestyles MC'd by the head of the boomtown police force.

Being nawwtyy

Each crew had its own afters when the music stopped at 4am. One evening, the ASBO afters merged in with our neighbours - the itchy-red-rash girls. As we entered their boudoir, our mouths dropped at the incredible sight of half naked women in tight corsets, passing around trays with straws as the Madame sat on her throne, with a watchful eye. I turned to chat to Muti’s second-hand man, the guard of the underworld who was grinning with gold teeth and a mad look in his eyes that were coated with thick, black coal. He was sniggering about what he was going to do to the security guard that had been making pervy comments to us girls all day… they were dark times and I loved them. Transgressing out of my ideal light, hippie world and into the dirty grime of the underground scene where you made all the rules.

ASBO Girls

We performed every evening from 11pm – 4am, skanking on stage to the fattest sound system of the festival, banging out heavy dub and jungle with artists like Mungos HiFi, Manudigital, ASBO and more (https://www.mixcloud.com/.../aries-b2b-fleck-b2b-asbo.../). The rest of the time, we’d ride the boomtown current, seeing colours in the trees of the forests, falling into Fat Freddy’s drop or being convinced into a ‘civilized’ family breakfast in boutique camping with C’s mum (how we managed to pull that off in our states, I’ll never know). The westest moment of the festival was definitely being pulled away from a skank into a tiny glass room with a cushty movie set up. On the screen was octopus porn with tentacles invading holes you’d never dream of… If you could take snippets of nightmares and dreams, add a jungle soundtrack, inject it with gallons of fuel, shake it up and turn it into a reality... you’d get boomtown.

ASBO DISCO

I departed that festival completely stripped of every ounce of energy, health and life.  Keen to get home and avoid waiting a few hours for a lift, I trekked up the dreaded staircase, gasping for breath as my chest felt close to collapsing. And then it did and the medical team was surrounding me with inhalers and water… defeated, I was that girl. When I’d calmed down, I discovered the 6 hour wait for the shuttle bus to leave the festival – massively regretting not taking up the offer for a lift and thinking of a painful 6 hour wait at the end of a festival?! What a joke. But amazingly, the sun shone the entire time and I happened to be sat next to the one man with a working mini-rig banging out great tunes while Peterpandimensional dusted off his festival powder on my other side. During that 6 hours, everyone jammed together and shared the last of their remnants, food and water. The departure turned into a free party, just as boomtown had begun. I buzzed off the communal interaction that had just formed as I sat on the train, closed my eyes for a second and woke up hours later... in Wales. Luckily I wasn’t the only mug who'd missed their stop, so we spent the last of our pennies on a cross-country taxi journey back to Bristol to finally get some sleep. Ka-BOOM - What an ASBOlute.Trip!

The official Boomtown After-video: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkAEzu7ydJc

With a voice, to the beat, I shiver

Sleepoverz

I run along the wet leaves that glint in the morning sunlight - witnessing the transition as the green morphs into orangey brown and death slowly takes over, pulling away the leaves with its invisible claws one by one until the trees stand bare.
Seasons have changed and we breathe in Autumn air... I remember the day a few weeks ago when the weather took a significant turn as the Arctic winds blew in and I opened my winter drawer with a sigh. The shops in town didn't take long to stock up on winter gear - walking into Primark you'd think it was Christmas day! Reindeer's or snowmen on jumpers, shelves stacked with fake uggs, silver ball balls and stocking fillers (all of which you leave the shop convinced you can't live without). We turned our heating on when we realised wearing gloves in the house was unacceptable. I sat down by my radiator that's strewn with colourful hippie pants (for decoration of course as actual usage won't take place for another year) and just felt the warmth of the metal; the water slowly heating up for the first time in a year inside the cold metal pipes, letting off a slightly burnt aroma hm.. 

Mmm nosh

I've been here for over two months now and I feel a Bristonian slowly coming on. I walk the streets with confidence, not because I won't get lost (that's inevitable), but if I do I now have a sense of where in the city I am. The street art splashed around the buildings are perfect landmarks for the wandering eye, I always wonder how they manage to spray so flawlessly at such heights.. the mystery adds to their edge I guess...
Stokes Croft is the urban/ indie part of town littered with funky alternative café's and trendy teens. Tesco seems to have the monopoly over here in terms of supermarkets and their attempt to move in on Stokes Croft was rejected with demonstrations and graffiti art - their failure lies splattered in big lettering that reads 'boycott Tesco' on the side of the most noticeable building on the street. That's one of the best parts about this city... the ability everyone has to be outspoken in creative and accessible means. Whether it's hula hooping for green peace, spraying cans against Tesco or singing about women s rights, you can have your say in any way (excuse the cheesy rhyme).

Rastafarian fences

Hehe

So Uni's officially started, back into an institution and a routine. I'm taking Psychology with Sociology and though the first year usually consists of the drab that you've spent the last few years working to get away from, it's interesting taking these courses in the transitional stages of a paradigm shift. Last week one of our amazing lecturers made a group of us literally stand up at the end of class ready to start a revolution against capitalism - until we realised we really didn't know what system to choose instead - I mean Russell Brand put out an easy foundation for everyone to understand but the structure needs to be built in order to be used. I still love the concept of 'The Venus Project' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zn8MRKOskw) but human greed is always a confounding variable.. 

Bathroom selfies?

A beautiful rainbow on a crap camera.

Growing up really does open your eyes to a lot of shit doesn't it? We're looking at benefit fraud at the moment, the warped tax system and how the world got to this point. I looked at my last on-line pay
 check of which 1/3 had been taxed (what?!) - I come into class the next day to hear about how Apple (and other large, wealthy cooperation's) manage to dodge tax by sending huge sums of money to various offshore accounts - now that sounds fair doesn't it? I think coming into this system after having lived in another one your whole life really underlines the errors in big red felt tip pen. What's great about growing up though, is being able to go to uni and read about the beliefs of old philosophers and sociologists etc with a sense of understanding, soon the little light bulbs begin to spark and then you're suddenly merging and building upon streams of your own existing thought until we decide what we believe..

Street art in Stokes Croft

Our lecturer's turned many of us into Marxists: anti-capitalism/ unequal division of labour/ greedy,profit based/ fucked system that we're all trapped in. Slavery was said to be abolished a while ago yet a page of the Metro was dedicated to the top 10 current countries with the highest count of slavery, England scoring 61st I believe? I wonder who had the first thought of their current disguise..'Here's an idea, let's not call them slaves, let's give them their freedom so they're not our responsibility and we'll cut their shifts to say, 4 hours? so we don't have to give them a break. We'll pay them less than their value so we can make a profit (that'd be minimum wage - that according to today's metro has reached an all time low :(- the average in Bristol is about £5p/h) and then there's no one to blame.' How our society's progressed huh?
It's interesting seeing the state of politics at the moment -if you look at the biggest superpower, the US of A! Who were recently experiencing a partial government shut-down because of the trillions of dollars of debt that they owe to China/ banks and the guys that own the banks. The US hold the reigns for a global economic recession that we have no control over - but what we are seeing now is the new method of communication that they are trying so desperately to control. The internet - and while we're aware that everything we say and do is being monitored by someone, somewhere...  they sit at the other side of the computer waiting for another Snowden to appear and release more vital information to the rest of us. Our generation is equipped with the tool to communicate that they've never had before, it's definitely gonna end up being the loophole to the solution..

Anonymous

The one that got away!

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YR4CseY9pk)) 
"Remember remember the 5th of November 
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason, why gunpowder treasonShould ever be forgot."
The evening of which was a demonstration all over the world lead by the sound political activist group 'Anonymous'. We originally planned on heading down to Parliament in London to stand together and peacefully protest against all the false promises that get politicians their vote, butt we missed our bus tickets so we chose more of a mental-protest :p
We sat on Brandons Hill, wrapped in jumpers with a couple ciders and J or two, overlooking the horizon of Bristol's buildings and harbour-side, while delicate plumes of multicoloured fireworks emerged from the black spaces between the houses. 10 of us stood along the hill, lighting the four corners of the cardboard that would soon bring to life another years wish. We waited patiently for the lanterns to slowly fill up with heat and then released them into the air.. most of them getting caught in the trees above while a lucky few got away.

Naww

I'm loving having a fairly stable routine again, morning yoga, a run, coffee and breakfast, uni, work, home, friends, out, bed. I've been working in care homes recently and am training to become a social carer. Care homes really open your eyes to old age - something that I'm not longing for.. "once an adult twice a child" has never rung truer.  Yoghurt's, jelly and ice cream, hot chocolate and tea, TV, hushed words, big nappies and personal carers - it's like reverting back into baby-hood again. One lady pulled a few heart strings when she started crying out for her mummy while a nursery rhyme played in the background over the cartoon of the multi coloured dancing mushrooms on TV.... I didn't really know how to respond..

Wide Eyes

But then there are other moments, walking passed a room of men and women singing in harmony just smiling - taking joy in the mundane as we once did, or the couple that have checked themselves in to the home together and still cuddle up next to each other every night. I guess old age is also a mindset, my grandma still has a young spirit, as do many others, I'd just hate to be incapable of really living my life, you know?

I'm revelling in my youth at the moment with a few crazy nights out in Bristol and the odd weekend in London. Deep house at Timbuk2, Lakota or Empire Theatre. Illegal raves in the countryside where dogs run rampant and police have no say, Drum and Bass nights at Motion where the ceilings sweat and reggae/ dub nights at The (dodgy) Black Swan. It was great going to 'For The Love of Dub' and watching Monassah (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MU7SuJOIEOQ) play - he's an old family friend that was playing at gigs my parents went to when they were 19.. funny how patterns carry through generations.

First usage of our shed!

M and I hit London for another night of spontaneous free loading, starting off at the Big Chill we progressed over to a house rave in Dalston, ending up in a flash East London pad. We looked at each other as we sat in a state we'd never experienced before, 19 years ago we were propped up in nappies playing with lego and here we were again, playing a slightly different game. Come 11am we were crawling out of the house and into a taxi, like aliens crawling out of their mothers womb for the first time. Heads on pillows, tights around our eyes to block out the sun and into the darkness we went. Only to wake up hours later and realise I'd missed my bus, again. So what should've been a £14 return journey turned into a £50 pound one.. but hey ho, we'd been pretty lucky the night before.
It's nice having friends in Bristol too, the 9 bedroom house is always the one everyone ends up at, zoning out to the deep thump of the bassy speakers as colourful balloons expand and white light fills the air. I just remember 2 days later, walking in and out of the living room to see J passed out in exactly the same position he'd been in 24 hours earlier. 3 days later the boys had finally decided to change clothes - some things I'll never understand.. 

Hospitality - Motion

But it's not all crazy, there are M and I's cook off's that always end successfully, with a movie and a bag of flowers. Our house is almost full though everyone's in and out visiting family or working around the country. Every bedroom has a bit of love and character, the little kitchen is constantly full of pots, pans, arms and legs as we duck and dive but manage somehow. 5 girls and 1 bathroom hasn't proved a problem yet but we've got our fingers crossed. The other night it was 3 girls, 1 car and no GPS - landing us in another county, escaping a near crash and arriving hours later to the big Sainsbury's for our 'cheap' shopping spree that rinsed our bank accounts. Cooking in bulk is the way to go to save money, so buying in bulk seems logical too, no? ;)

Motion in the ocean

The other day I walked home from uni and just stood in the sun for a minute to soak up a few rays and stay still amongst the movement. Don't you love the feeling of coming home? Especially after a day of Brizzly weather! Scrunching up your eyes as you climb up the steep hills with the wind hitting you in the face - you know winter's sending its signs. We managed to survive the storms though! With a tinge of disappointment after the excitement of the weather forecast's '80/mph hurricane winds'. I went for a run the morning they 'hit' (Bristol wasn't really affected) and got caught in the downpour, feeling the weight of my runners as each step got a little more difficult and soon it wasn't just the puddles making the splashes.. but there's something nice about being able to just run through the rain without hunching over and trying so desperately not to get wet, challenging the elements.. and then getting a cold the next day. Ok enough moaning, time for another cup of teea and an attempt to face the challenge of remaining sane while all the girls in our house PMS at the same time, uh oh boys beware... halloweens over but the bitches are out..

A funky tune for 'hump day' as M used to say <3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5nk7AsILlQ

Halloweeny recipe of the day: Pumpkin cheesecake 
http://allrecipes.co.uk/recipe/4522/pumpkin-cheesecake.aspx

Carnival

\‘JAMAICA JAMAICAA’ (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgiFe6LSEeA) rang out of the huge sound systems that lined the streets of the West end. Everyone had emerged from their burrows to grab a slice of London at its best. Notting Hill Carnival, it’s been around since 1965 and ‘was led by the West Indian Migrant community in London. In recent years it has attracted up to 50,000 performers, 38 sound systems and 2.5 million people over the weekend, making it the second largest street carnival in the world after Rio.' (nottinghillcarnival.eu) Today, it’s a time that allows everyone to let loose together and share the one thing that connect all humans – a love for music, food and culture. 

Above the heads

Old Rasta’s jamming along to Aba shanti with flower fumes waving to the beats, little ones shaking their hips above shoulders and within protected circles to the tunes of Sancho Panza, with their parents keeping half an eye on them with a smile on their face. True Jamaican twerkers bumping and grinding in front of floats that were crawling with people and shaking with sounds. The crowds were a sweaty treat, not recommended for the claustrophobics amongst us as half your time is spent pressed up against strangers, shuffling through police barricades to try to reach the nearest music.

M and I

M and I lived right next to Carnival and that day, much of the public transport staff had conveniently chosen to go on strike; luckily for us, we weren’t effected and relied our legs to get there and back. Shops were shut, bars were teaming with people, the litter was slowly building up and the fabulous once-a-year (£200 - £600) costumes were appearing. We’d gone for glitter and masks, and a whole bottle of sun cream – it was 30®C and I felt like I was in the Mediterranean without the sea (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBDVarvFqYI) today, a lot of water was going to be needed.

Famalam

The two main days of Carnival are Sunday and bank holiday Monday. Sunday’s usually family day so the vibe’s a bit more lax, we went with the adults of our family, strictly NO kids allowed - this was our day, you can’t be dealing with little manic responsibilities when you’re tryna have fun!

En route to Carnival

So we hit the first pub, ciders, G&T’s and shandy’s it was, the tunes were pumping and the bar was crowded... it was only 12pm. In the heat of the day it didn’t take much for the alcohol to reach our heads, so we downed our last drinks, with the ground becoming progressively more uneven and speech starting to slur (well mine). Shuffle, bounce, grind in time to the beat, using whatever available body parts you could, to move with the rhythm in whatever space was available. So we moved those hands and fingers above the heads of the masses, the ecstatic wave of the day passing through each of us in turn. The best part about being with family that know the scene, is they also know the shortcuts. M and I followed along quite happily, just as we were reaching Aba shanti a Rasta in the crowd held out a hand of green daisies. A 3 minute transaction and I was skipping along happily with my new purchase and being ‘welcome(d) to jam rock’ by the DJ. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xlCmQcRPtRg)

Grind, roll, lick, light the fumes dispersed and merged with the countless others. Police could be seen struggling through crowds looking for trouble, we didn’t really fit that category. The smoke from the jerk chicken wafted up our nostrils. Beans, rice, jerk, salad and gravy mmm. We bopped along in line, getting the extortionate £7 out of our pockets for our meal. Mouth-gasm is the only way to really describe the sensation when you bite into a succulent, sweet, sticky bbq’d piece of chicken with the tang of the salad, the thickness of the rice and the reggae music to top it off. 

Jerk

Mmm

We shuffled on, to Sancho Panza, Norman Jay’s good times, soul, funk, rap, reggae, house – it was all going down. The dancers were wearing their tight little knickers and spangly Brazilian/ Jamaican tops that had obviously been worked on for a long time; most of the men at carnival were having a field day, the hunger in their eyes everywhere they looked almost making them dizzy. Women didn’t do too badly either, tall, black, beautiful, ripped men dancing to good tunes? 

Sunday eve

What more could you want. As the day wound down 6pm struck and the crowds started to disperse, as around that time, is when things start to get rowdy and a lot of the gangs make their appearances. It’s the one deterrent of Carnival for a lot of people, but if you keep your valuables and friends close and your mind alert then you should be fine. The rents left us around 5 and we went to sit on the patchy grass with the other carnival go’ers. It didn’t take us long to get chatting to the group beside us, Charlie said hello and sent us buzzing on our way back home before we headed out for the night. ‘One drink and then we’ll go home’ was the plan… until we met T and J. Bringing a few girls along to a house party always looks good, so we essentially became the accessories of the night (that relationship did deepen once we all got to know each other... and started the discussion of M and I’s significant others.. love pulling that out the bag.) But we followed along quite happily; it was a free night of everything, good company and tunes on the roof of a 5 storey flat, walking distance from home - how great it is to be a girl sometimes. That night went on, and on and on moving from the kitchen to the roof, back to the kitchen for warmth, downstairs for cigs, upstairs for tunes, home for bed and up again for Carnival. The best way to get out of a strop is to do something, surrounding ourselves with music for the second day in a row allowed us to pick up on everyone else’s vibes (& jerk chicken) and just feel, good (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHs98TEYecM)

I spot the police..

Little jammers

Men..

I skyped mum and dad in Malaysia the day afterwards and described my first experience of their old tradition. While I was raving about the DJ’s they laughed – ‘It’s so funny that you guys are all jamming along to our mates old tunes that we saw them create’. M and I’s parents, having dabbled in the music industry were mates with the DJ’s of all the biggest sound systems, and while we were playing their tunes for the first time on Spotify, our parents were sifting through their old vinyl’s & memories of when it all first began.

Lots of love

On Tuesday, work had begun again and London was back to its busy hustle and bustle. The memories of the sounds lingered in the air, clinging to the conker trees that’s leaves were transitioning from green to orange. This weekend had been ‘a whole different gravy’ as J would say, and the spirit of the city that holds so many secrets had been lifted once again.

Jam of the day: Aba Shanti at Notting Hill Carnival

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JuCWaCHfAqA