“I feel self-conscious not having a hat and boots on,” remarks Bess Atwell on the final day of the Black Deer Festival. Since travel has taken a hit these past couple of years, Eridge Park’s all-out celebration of Americana music and culture is the closest most of us will have been to some form of U.S of A living in some time. The weekend’s sweltering southern temperatures aside, commitment to the look this weekend is strong across both the arena and attendees. Alongside the saloon and porch side decor, the Stetsons, Harley-Davidsons, double denim and cigar box guitars are out in force. We spot BBQ slow cooking on the back of a 1951 Ford F6 truck, heated eating competitions in midflow and hear repeated proclamations of love for that “milk of mercy”: our old friend whiskey. Though, as co-founders Gill Tee and Deb Shilling explain, it goes deeper than these first impressions, “Black Deer is not just about hearing the music you love, it’s about discovering music you’re going to love and experiencing the unique cultural richness that surrounds this popular way of life we call Americana.” That we can raise a glass to.
We really felt for the team in 2021 when they had to adapt the whole make-up of the festival to adhere with government guidelines, only for the restrictions on events to shift again, resulting in Black Deer being shelved for another year running. Therefore, it’s so satisfying to see their long-awaited third instalment deliver in such a spectacular fashion. After several adjustments, the final line-up exceeded expectations, catering to both Country diehards and those with just a passing interest. Throughout the course of our three days spent in Kent’s honky-tonk heartland, we often found ourselves torn between stages as acts raved about the pleasure of performing again, noting the importance of these kinds of gatherings and the unique part Black Deer plays in all of this. Though we might not have had the chance to catch Lady Nade, Native Harrow, Talisk, Josh Okeefe and many more this time around, we were still royally spoiled by the number of old-time devotees we did see.
As openers go, you’d be hard pushed to find one that fits the brief better than Seafoam Green. Whether sinking into swampy blues grooves or mellowing out to melodies that seem lifted straight from the Laurel Canyon songbook, Irish-born/Liverpool-based songwriting duo Dave O’Grady and Muireann McDermott Long match the intensity of the day’s heat with ease. Having recorded with both Derek Trucks (Tedeschi Trucks Band) and Rich Robinson (The Black Crowes), like the middle child between the Allman Brothers and Big Brother & the Holding Company, they have serious Southern rock swagger. Working Man reveals a softer side, the grit and grace notes of their voices lingering over hushed brushwork before launching into the well-received, full-bodied Yesterday’s Wine. Full of charm, O’Grady jokes about arriving hours early, spotting a keg backstage and bundling it up in a blanket. They close with Martin’s Garden single Mine All Mine, O’Grady’s deft slide guitar and Long’s soulful embellishments building to an impassioned outro.
Over on the Ridge stage, we catch the tail end of Ruarri Joseph’s current project William the Conqueror. It’s a surprisingly expansive sound for a three-piece, skewed folk-rock shot through an alt 90s filter. Joseph’s son phoning him throughout the set, they barrel into the call and response chug of Cold Ontario, bringing it home with the Cass McCombs Big Wheel-style delivery of Bleeding on the Soundtrack, which almost slips into bleary-eyed beat poetry.
“Very hot out there, very Americana,” deadpans Ian Felice. Hailing from the Catskill Mountains, The Felice Brothers deliver wonderfully, Ian spooling forth in a Subterranean Homesick Blues stream of consciousness while James steers course, showboating centre stage. Valium recalls the vocal tremor and trailing narratives of Conor Oberst and The Decemberists. Whereas the rip-roaring accordion and barroom blur of favourites Whisky in my Whisky and Frankie’s Gun revisit their early days, the audience joining together for choruses, arms linked in the afternoon haze. It’s revivalist roots rock at its finest. A welcome return for a band that hasn’t graced the UK in some time and has us rethinking summer plans in the hope of catching one of their remaining tour dates.
The Ridge stage is then pitched somewhere between Pink Floyd’s Live at Pompeii and Neil Young & Crazy Horse’s BARN, as Israel Nash takes us on a prog-country trip. Joined by the supremely talented Curtis Roush of psych-rock outfit The Bright Light Social Hour and a slick cohort who look plucked straight from the corner of Haight-Ashbury, it’s the heaviest (and headiest) set of the day, a masterclass in dynamics and instrumental prowess. As they rip into prize cut Down in the Country from last year’s Topaz, the cosmic pastoral vibes keep coming as the resonant pedal steel calls to mind Jonathan Wilson. After dropping into the silvery flow of Woman at the Well, Nash grins, “it’s good to be back out sharing in song, spirit and music,” rounding out day one of our highlights in almighty fashion.
Saturday appears considerably busier onsite, and the sun is just as relentless as the day before. Over at The Ridge, Simeon Hammond Dallas (“Hammond like the organ, Dallas like the City”) rises to the challenge quite naturally, pulling an impressive crowd. The star-crossed A Hundred Lovers calls to mind the nonchalant air and melodies of Laura Marling, with the Camden-based singer/songwriter closing her set with a description of the ultimate meet-cute, reflecting, “if your life was a romcom, this would be the soundtrack.” Frontier folk singer Willi Carlisle draws us in closer on the acoustic stage with his irrepressible spirit, instrumental interchanging and fired-up Loudon Wainwright III energy. In between launching albums into the crowd, Jack Broadbent (joined by his father Micky on bass) proves to be one of the finest bluesmen we’ve heard in some time. Namechecking both Robert Johnson and Davey Graham, the tone and feel of his slide guitar on Don’t Be Lonesome tears straight through you. Early in the day, but three acts very capable of making those later slots in the future.
With members drawn from many different countries within the African Diaspora, The London African Gospel Choir’s enlivening interpretation of Paul Simon’s 1986 classic Graceland wins hearts over on the main stage. Despite some technical difficulties, when the lead vocal cuts in for Crazy Love, Vol. II, it receives great applause, the choir matching the vitality of the music while also making it their own through inspired adlibs and choreography.
“I’m so happy this festival finally happened,” beams Courtney Marie Andrews. Immediately it becomes clear why she’s at the forefront of modern country. The Arizonian singer/songwriter has a quiet power to her voice. Burlap String, If I Told, and Old Flowers from her fifth release may seem heavy-hearted lyrically, but the melodies feel featherlike as they swoon and lilt with the accompanying pedal steel. May Your Kindness Remain and Carnival Dream reach the same climactic heights as Phoebe Bridgers and Angel Olsen, with the backing vocals of “she’s out of her mind” later into the set hinting at some glorious kind of paranoia. The crowd continues to call for one more song long after she takes her leave. We’ll just have to hold out for her new record, Loose Future, in October.
“I feel like we’ve made a connection, but you don’t even know my name. Say my name three times,” quips Declan O’Rourke. He pauses in amazement, “Well, that’s never happened before.” Squeezing in a few songs before the evening’s headliners, it would seem the feeling is mutual. Similar in his songwriting talents to Kris Drever, we’re taken aback by the Dubliner’s honeyed baritone on Sarah (Last Night In A Dream) and Galileo before the once reluctant stars of alt-country Wilco take the stage. Heavily drawing on their twelfth album Cruel Country, as well as standouts from A Ghost Is Born, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Summerteeth, Tweedy & co.’s only UK date of 2022 receives a warm reception but doesn’t feel as though it lands quite like The Waterboys set.
Silhouetted against the approaching storm, Mike Scott’s enduring ensemble launch into the fist-pumping pop-rock of Glastonbury Song. Brother Paul Brown continues to dig in, the band just fitting in This Is The Sea before the performance has to be pulled. We escape the downpour under Paelleria, the food stall still blaring out Fisherman’s Blues. Then as scenes turn truly apocalyptic, we make our exit. Luckily, everything is intact when we get back to our tents, as we shelter in our friend’s campervan. As sheets of rain sweep over the site, we understand the need for early closure in these monsoon-like conditions. After the high drama on day two, we get our heads down, ready for tomorrow’s grand finale.
Yasmin Williams chases away any restless feeling come Sunday morning, proving the ideal tonic over on the main stage. Deserving of a much bigger audience (though it’s understandable given yesterday’s circumstances), the Virginia-based guitarist’s remarkable two-handed lap tapping technique evokes John Butler who stunned us all back in 2019. More than capable of taking up the mantle, the gorgeous cascade of Juvenescence appears effortless as the meditative meander of Urban Driftwood eases us into the day ahead.
Hayley’s Bar pays tribute to Black Deer co-founder Gill Dee’s eldest brother Chris Haley who introduced her to Country’s greats through his own playing and who they tragically lost at the age of nineteen. “Inside Haley’s bar is where we’ll be remembering where it all began those many years ago, with Chris. Putting on a party he’d be proud of,” writes Dee. Come that afternoon, the bar is abuzz as we cram in for a better view of Treetop Flyers. Humbled and hyped up, the London-based band are the prime precursor to Van the man later, Reid Morrison channelling the same Celtic soul and Morrison moves of yesteryear. The smooth saunter and tasteful sax of Castlewood Road gives way to the R&B energy of 100 and Cool Your Jets, the latter building from a Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats groove to an ecstatic Elton-inspired outro.
“I told you it would ruin the fun,” jokes Bess Atwell mid-set. Although things are brought down several notches, we’re all for it, Atwell’s measured melancholia having a captivating charm all of its own. Underpinned by programmed drums and reverb-heavy lead lines, the pinpoint precision of Atwell’s lyrics and her stark soundscapes mirror that of Daughter. For her first festival slot of the season, it’s a stunning respite before tonight’s main event.
We spot Mike ‘MC’ Taylor of Hiss Golden Messenger enjoying the start of Morrison over on the main stage. The mercurial icon sounds in a particularly fine voice, though we do wish Van and his entourage of seasoned pros would rely less on those standards and explore his extraordinary back catalogue more (and by that, we don’t mean Brown Eyed Girl). Either way, MC isn’t fazed. Before their set, he notes the clash, admitting, with a slight smile, that his band is well up to the task. The last time we caught MC (the guy also behind Ex-Ignota, The Court & Spark and Revelators Sound System), he was flying solo at Leeds Brudenell Social Club, delighted that one of Waterson’s relations was in attendance. Tonight, the band appears before a Bright Phoebus-styled backdrop, but this time we’re met by an entirely different beast. Sure, the folk stylings are still there, but when did Hiss become everyone’s favourite jam band? That’s certainly not a complaint, for what the set lacks in sublimely spun confessionals, it makes up for in glorious country-funk wig-outs.
We’re treated to a staggering rendition of live staple My Wing, apparently written with a little hallucinogenic help on a West Virginia hillside (“the best way to write… let’s get down to brass tacks”). In-between wild feel changes and ludicrous displays of instrumental interplay, it’s songs like Sanctuary and I Need A Teacher that pick up the same spiritual thread of many of this weekend’s finest performances, which seem to resonate most deeply with this listener. Their hopeful scope and soulful magic are inescapable. If any set best captures the sense of community and unspoken connection that Black Deer is built on, it’s MC’s. After the sun sets on East Sussex, the euphoria looks set to bulldoze those post-festival blues. Struggling to find the fabled Magic Teapot (now looking back, clearly mapped), we take stock, sharing in the success of this year’s event for a moment, before casting our eager predictions for next year: “Sturgill and Orville Peck?” “There’s been talk of Robbie Robertson” “Imagine if they landed Gillian Welch?” The sign of a winning festival, indeed.
Website: https://blackdeerfestival.com/