(EW)Īt first, Bobby Vylan seems to be in a more jovial mood. The Brighton band sign off by imploring the crowd to “call out your fucking mates!” as they crowdsurf out of the tent, ending an extraordinary Trees debut representing everything punk strives to be. Even for all their jaw-dropping, creative theatrics, they’re still sounding white-hot, with an abrasive airing of Craig David opening a pit that fills more than half the tent. Vocalist and guitarist Phoebe Lunny spends nearly as much time off the stage as on it, even playing Help Me I’m Gay sat on a fan’s shoulders (with another volunteering as a human mic stand), and casually gets down to her underwear for anti-catcalling anthem White Van. And that’s not the only thing they’re doing right – their anarchic live show is as daring and fun as punk gets. The one Lambrini Girls are playing in is overflowing big time, perhaps partly due to the Twitter shitstorm that erupted when their trans-inclusive messaging incited the ire of Graham Linehan last weekend. To (almost) quote the famed line from Jaws, we’re going to need a bigger tent. There’s far more brilliance on show than we could ever manage to cram into this review, but here are the 50-odd sets that’ve left us thoroughly broken at the end of an unbelievable weekend… What’s more out of this world is how this grassroots gathering has managed to grow into a celebration of all things alternative while retaining its gorgeous Cotswold character: the local Women’s Institute selling baked goods within spitting distance of Texan bruisers Kublai Khan TX dropping some of the nastiest beatdowns you’ve ever heard dairy products from cattle in the surrounding fields available to soothe throats torn to shreds after shouting along to genre-busting Japanese heroes Paledusk. There are a late-night blank patches in our memory but, in fairness, that’s probably more to do with too many of the festival’s trademark ‘beeros’ than any extraterrestrial incursion. The festival artwork for 2000trees is UFO-themed for 2023, imagining flying saucers swooping over the thick woodland around Cheltenham’s Upcote Farm to whisk punters to another world.
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