A weekend of fantastic music in the middle of a Derbyshire field brought bands and fans together in the best possible way. Miles out into the Peak District, along a country lane is where you’ll find Y Not Festival – the giant main stage protrudes from the grass, as does the sprawling mass of cars, tents and big-top stages.
Y Not kicked off on Thursday – light drizzle dampened the punters, but the weather didn’t dent the spirit of Cowboyy as they opened up the main stage on Thursday afternoon. Their chaotic brand of avant math-punk was a real treat for Thursday ticket holders, and the three-piece played a stunner to an albeit small, but passionate collection of fans. The Blinders set was a fantastic moment – their tweaked lineup sounds muscular and they rattle through an impressive career-spanning set. Thursday closed with Bombay Bicycle Club, a brilliant celebration of indie music with a band maturing like fine wine. The crowd lapped it up, and Thursday was brought to a close with gorgeous indie melancholia.
On Friday Y Not opened proper, with the gates flooding with more jubilant festival-goers. The wider festival opened too, with a fantastic selection of bands across several stages set to appease the taste of any rock music fan. The bright blue and yellow of The Giant Squid stage shone under the July sun: Nottingham outfit Divorce knocked the socks off of everyone in the place with a brilliant set. Cuts from their debut EP were performed spectacularly, with ‘Services’ being a notable highlight, as well as a soft and sensitive version of their latest release, ‘Birds’.
The yellow of The Giant Squid was turned a chaotic red by Panic Shack – the Welsh punk outfit tore through a colossal set of short, sharp bangers. From minute one the pit opened right up, with fans slamming into each other to ‘Meal Deal’, ‘The Ick’ and ‘Who’s Got My Lighter?’. Panic Shack were on top form and clearly loving their seasonal festival tour, goading the ravenous crowd into jumping and hurtling around harder and faster. Back to the main stage for The Pigeon Detectives, who amassed a huge crowd for someone so early on the bill – their set of danceable indie pop was charming and fun, though an odd dig at Arctic Monkeys’ new work came off as more jealous than cool. A special mention should go to The Royston Club too, who played out a mesmerising set – they’ve rapidly grown a huge following of die-hard fans, and rightly so. Proper stuff.
Royal Blood were next and did what they always do — blow the absolute roof off. With every album tour, the duo rise higher and higher up festival bills and seem to get louder with every rise up the ranks. Cuts from all three records are huge, with new singles slotting into the set nicely – they pace their setlist fantastically and keep the energy up for every cut. Mike Kerr’s sludgy, colossal riff-work is complemented so well by Ben Thatcher, who smashes the utter shit out of his drum kit.
Saturday started with a bang, as The Lancashire Hotpots took to the huge main stage. They delivered a set of comedic, regional bangers touching on all things northern. Chips for tea, beers, bin men and everything in between. Their bizarrely hilarious cuts got people moving and grooving, with their mantra of ‘tipsy before twelve’ well and truly taken to heart.
The Last Dinner Party arrived fashionably late to their own set over at The Quarry stage, where eventually they emerged from a cloud of dry ice to kick Y Not up a notch. For a new band, they are ultra-polished and give the impression they have been playing together for years. A gorgeous set of ethereal and mesmerising tunes is smashed out of the park, and it is gloriously refreshing to see the barrier and pit area full of young women having the utter time of their lives. You can’t tear your eyes away from the stage for a moment — this band will be huge.
Sophie Elis Bextor brings the grove to the main stage, and of course, everyone loses their mind to ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’, as well as a selection of other club classics. We’re then straight back over to The Giant Squid for The Murder Capital, who perform something totally special. The band sounds utterly exceptional and packs out the big tent with ease. They rattle through cuts from both records and following the show, McGovern stays to shake the hand and smile in photos for every single fan who stayed, crowding the barrier.
Now then, Saturday night went off with one hell of a bang as Kasabian took to the stage. The Leicester band have an unreal back catalogue of hits on hits on hits. Serge as the frontman works wonders too, he is every bit the showman and prances about the stage with glee. There is something truly unique about listening to Kasabian smash out ‘Underdog’ as the sun sets and your nostrils are filled with the smokey chemical scent of flares – look around as there are people on shoulders and great blue and red clouds billow into the wind. Who would want to be anywhere else?
Sunday is another wonderful day, but the rain began to seriously hammer down as the music got going. DEADLETTER play a brilliant set in The Giant Squid, inspiring some of the most intense moshing Y Not has seen – people are absolutely hurling themselves into one another, as the band play a selection of chaotic post-punk hits, with added sax and stage diving. Courting brought the noise to the quarry shortly after, but the set of the weekend belongs to Dublin punks Sprints in the Giant Squid. Their latest single, ‘Adore Adore Adore’ has just been bumped up to the 6 Music A-List and the band were on imperious form.
The rain hammers down as DMA’s take to the main stage next, playing a triumphant set to a crowd of bucket hats and pac-a-macs, before the show is brought to a close by the Modfather himself Paul Weller, reeling out hit after hit to the crowd who enjoy every single second.
Y Not was a musical triumph this year, but there were some organisational shortcomings. Unfortunately, there was nowhere near enough toilets on site for the masses in attendance, which was always going to turn into a sh*tshow (quite literally), and for some inexplicable reason, most of the loos were locked up after Weller’s performance. Furthermore, the alcohol policy put a bit of a dampener on the weekend — a limit of 24 cans per person or one bottle of spirit was allowed into the camp, an attempt to make festival-goers more willing to buy at the bars. They seemed to have briefed the security to manhandle anyone who might want to sneak a sealed can of lager into the arena as well. Hopefully the festival runners can rethink this policy for next year’s ticket buyers and make life a bit easier for all involved.
Overall though, you can’t fault the festival for a fantastic lineup, but the real credit goes to every performer and artist who smashed their set out of the park.
Written by Jonah Osborne
