We made it through another Electric Picnic safe and sound, bar a new addiction to the Tiny Tea Tent’s coffee and brandy, a deep affection for Jarvis Cocker and an overwhelming relief at not hearing the name ‘Alan’ being yelled repeatedly.
The Mindfield was one particular hang-out of choice this Picnic, and it certainly had more than enough to distract us (almost) entirely from the plethora of music on offer. This corner of the Picnic has a myriad of events that covers everything from spoken word to theatre to the art of conversation, with performers as talented in their own (mind) field as those on the main stage.
Some highlights:
Leviathan’s Salon du Chat
Greeted by a waiter holding a menu and offering us topics of conversation to feed our minds rather than our stomachs, we settled ourselves down at a table for Leviathan’s speed-debating. Provided with tea and chocolate buttons, we were joined by a ballet dancer from Cambridge and a doctor from Phibsboro and proceeded to discuss the complexities of an alcoholic Harry Potter and how great olives are. A wonderful manifestation of a chat room.
Science Gallery
The Science Gallery’s IGNITE had a host of talented speakers, favourites of which were BP Fallon’s Fame #9/ I Believe in Elvis, an arresting recitation of, well, fame. “These are times when it feels we live in fiction”, Fallon says, “And what we’ve got between us is several truths apart…”
Less intellectual, but equally entertaining was the Science for Kids presentation, which kept this twenty-something year old greatly amused with it’s explosions and chemical reactions.
Spoken Word
Apart from the predictably charged performance of Kate Tempest and the Sound of Rum, a highlight of the Spoken Word Tent came from the less well-known. Wounded Bear, with their particular brand of mellow, double-bass and guitar accompanied performance, gave a hypnotic performance.
Those who were lucky enough to be in the Hotpress Tent with Chuck D of Public Enemy were given an impromptu performance when Tempest, (“Here to speak for all the ones who don’t get a look in/You know, the ones that ain’t good lookin’”) rather than asking a question, rapped to Chuck D; “You taught me we had to bite the hand that bullies and berates us!” He gave her his email address.
Theatre Tent
Most of my time was spent in Mindfields (apart from the Farmer’s Market and their delicious nibbles). With Willie White and the Project Arts Centre curating this year’s Theatre Tent, we knew we were in for a good show and we weren’t disappointed. Although there were only eight shows on the programme, they were well-chosen by White, with a wide range of theatrical styles and subjects. Kings of Strut’s circus exeuberance spilled out of the tent into a inpromptu performance on Saturday afternoon. Talking Shop Ensemble’s I am a Homebird (It’s Very Hard) gave air to a chip that is present on every Irish person’s shoulder – namely the big R (RECESSION) and emigration. Well-worn topics by now, perhaps, but given a fresh perspective by the generation of the cast, and by the fact that Shaun Dunne, the main character, is not leaving Ireland. This play was a patchwork quilt of reminisces, sketches and opinions, knit together somewhat loosely and messily at times but saved by the genuine emotion of the cast’s stories and memories. The stand-out performance of the Theatre Tent was its opening act, namely:
Mimic
This wonderful performance, given by Raymond Scannell and his keyboard, proved to be a personal highlight of not only the Theatre Tent, but of the entire festival. Scannell, who composed, wrote and performed the piece, delivered a mesmerising and skilful show which was neither cabaret nor theatre nor music but somehow all three and something more. Scannell tells the story of Julian Neary, adopted child and misfit, growing up in 1980s Ireland, taking drugs, living through the Celtic boom (“Tiocfaidh ár lá – the day came and we spent it all in one shop…”) and into a dystopian future in which the Spire falls and the Fashion Police hunt you down. Scannell’s performance, delivered like poetry and animated with fleeting, spot-on impressions is a ephemeral song, rambling, hallucinatory and imagistic, through which the story appears like a melody. Mimic displays Scanell’s talents, comparable perhaps to someone singing a three-part harmony by themselves. The haunting and aurally eerie music serves as set, as lighting, as an entire cast in this monologue of an outcast’s life as he leads us down the rabbit hole of an alternative Irish history.
All in all, it was marvellous, proving that the Picnic really is an arts and music festival. My only complaint is that there was too much for one person to possibly see all of… A good complaint to have. Time to make a coffee and brandy and wait for next year.
Clara Kumagai.
