Frequently shrouded in the mist and cloud of Bannau Brycheiniog in South Wales, Green Man 2025 unfurls like a sun worshippers dream. With nary a cloud to be seen for the best part of the weekend, this still-intimate gathering ramps up several gears as 25,000 party hungry revellers embrace the atmosphere, as much as each other, with added zeal.
Even after all this time, Green Man remains a unique and special festival, not just because of its broad musical remit, but talks, films, comedy, and displays and talks on science, art, health and more at the delightful Einstein’s Garden. The Welsh Beer and Cider festival in the courtyard also reaps rewards with repeat visits.
You could call this diverse and inclusive gathering a snapshot of the world as it could be, except that it is the world as it is, just minus the raving lunatics running it and the frothing, swivel-eyed loons who support them. But for the here and now, weekends and festivals don’t get much better than this.
Green Man’s ever-expanding musical remit means that the possibility is always increasing of chancing upon something so completely unexpected that the trajectory of your plans is altered for the better. Such is the case with The Joy, a South African a cappella quintet, whose glorious, sweeping and frequently moving singing over on the Mountain Stage at Friday lunchtime hits the heart like a diamond-tipped arrow. With the gigantic shitshow that’s raging in the world beyond the Bannau Brycheiniog, it’s not just respite that’s being achieved here, but a sharp reminder of what harmony is about – working together from a range of different voices, the sum always greater than the parts. And with singing this beautiful, so utterly uplifting, that only the sternest of hearts would fail to moved. Could it be that there’s something in your correspondent’s eye?
Naima Bock’s effortless and timeless classic folk voice and her delicate, thoughtful songs were like a cool breeze cutting through the punishing heat of the day as her set begins on the Walled Garden – Green Man’s hidden gem of a stage. Opening with new, as-yet-unreleased material as a duo with violinist and close collaborator Oliver Hamilton (also a member of Saturday highlight caroline), Bock sets the stage for a performance best enjoyed sprawled on the grass or sunk into a camping chair. By the fourth song, four more musicians join to expand tracks from her latest album, Below A Massive Dark Land, and a new energy enraptures the audience. Songs like ‘Kaley’ ride a fuzz-driven guitar hook, while the steady rhythms of ‘Feed My Release’ unfold with hypnotic precision. Incorporating this fuller band dynamic into songs from Bock’s debut, Giant Palm, like ‘Every Morning’ and ‘Campervan’, she pushes her meticulous arrangements and playful dynamics into refreshing and unexpected territory. During ‘Gentle’, which descends into a drone with the whole band harmonising, I turn to see the sun beginning a slow, merciful drop in the sky – one of those rare, perfect moments of synchronicity that can only happen at a festival.
With the sun just setting over the festival site, the steady and increasing stream of people making their way up the slight hill towards The Far Out stage suggests a high degree of anticipation for Panda Bear. This combination of devotees and novices are rewarded with a set of psychedelic pop touched by hand of Brian Wilson and blessed with the spirit of dub. Aided by stunning third-eye visuals throughout, Panda Bear and his touring band are, for this evening at least, even better than on record iteration thanks to a superb combination of an innate melodic sensibility and a humanity at the heart of their aesthetic.
Despite two albums to the good, Wet Leg are still very much a band in development, meanwhile, and what becomes apparent during their Friday night headlining set on the Mountain Stage is that they’re still trying to establish what kind of band they want to be. Broadly speaking, their material falls into camps – the Wet and the Leg. The latter, typified by opener ‘Catch These Fists’, ‘Wet Dream’ and ‘CPR’ are rocking arse kickers infused with a welcome dose of humour, while the former batch is made up of drippy indie that frequently proves inconclusive. It’s not difficult to guess where their hearts really lie, but whether they ramp the gain control on their amps sharply up to the right remains to be seen.
The following Saturday, Gwenno’s slot in the blazing afternoon sunshine beautifully captures the original spirit of Green Man. Singing in Welsh, Cornish and English, her hazy folk and pop-infused psychedelia is the perfect antidote to unnecessary movement and exertions, while ticking all the right boxes with an infectious melodic sensibility, best exemplified by the dreamy ‘Tir Ha Mor’. The brilliant Melin Melyn, meanwhile, who share their DNA with Super Furry Animals, have created a gloriously eccentric world of their own. Based around the concept of The Mill On The Hill, a place of welcome threatened by an unscrupulous landlord, Melin Melyn bring the concept to life via rumbunctious country and psych. Witness ‘The Pigeon With The Golden Egg’ and ‘Masterplan’, a rollicking diatribe against greed because “there’s too much of it in the world.” Little wonder they draw a huge crowd to The Far Out Stage on a sweltering Saturday afternoon.
Mike Hadreas, aka Perfume Genius, dressed in low-cut jeans and a tight baby-blue T-shirt, is on the floor of the Mountain Stage stage, having just wrestled with and writhed around on a chair. Hadreas acknowledges that this isn’t the most convenient positioning from an audience sightline perspective, but makes no apology about his love of being on the floor. He’s on the floor on the front cover of his latest album Glory, from which we’re treated to four tracks. His poppiest, most bouncy song is called – you’ve guessed it – ‘On The Floor’, performed here as a moment of sheer, gleeful abandon in a set that ranges from the deeply delicate (‘Jason’), to searing synth-driven epics (‘My Body’). Surrounded by a backing band that includes partner Alan Wyffels on keys, the large setting of the Mountain Stage feels both cavernous and intimate, the solid electric blue backdrop flashing a fierce red only at the most climactic moments, accentuating every gesture, every lilt of Hadreas’ voice, and his every dramatic tumble to the floor. Even as the Perfume Genius sound has evolved from the delicate lo-fi recordings of his early career to the more densely detailed production of his latest album, Hadreas’ impressive ability to make the maximum emotional impact with the fewest elements remains.
As tQ approaches the Walled Garden stage on Saturday night, caroline are already onstage, wrestling with stubborn technical issues. After a brief retreat, all eight members return to the stage in their signature semi-circle, surrounding a monolithic amplifier at the centre. They explain that they’re struggling to hear themselves on stage but press on regardless. Perhaps to compensate, the front-of-house mix feels like the loudest of the weekend, amplifying the band’s mastery of tension and release, synchronicity and unpredictability. The result is pure catharsis – music that feels at once precarious and overwhelming, fragile yet seismic, all driven by the band’s collective energy and emotion. The band arrange their wide instrumentation – violins, bass clarinet, trombone, guitars, bass, percussion, and even briefly an auto-tuned vocal on ‘Song Two’ from their recent album caroline 2, performed by violinist Magdalena McLean – so that each sound is given space to breathe before it collides with the next, creating a delicate push and pull that builds across the set. Even the amplifier at the centre has its turn, fed different instruments or used as a feedback device as Oliver Hamilton thrashes his violin while standing in front of it, each note rippling through the crowd. At one point, guitarist Casper Hughes speaks sincerely to the audience, explaining that the band have experienced grief after losing a close friend and a band member’s parent, dedicating their set to them while also acknowledging the unimaginable suffering and grief of the Palestinian people. It’s a moment of stillness amid the sonic storm, a reminder of the humanity that underpins all of caroline’s work. An astonishing set by one of the best bands of right now.
Call the police! CMAT have totally stolen Green Man with a set that’s likely to see Ciara May-Alice Thompson and The Very Sexy CMAT Band propelled to the next level. Attracting the biggest crowd of the weekend – actually, make that the biggest crowd a Mountain Stage headliner has ever achieved – her effervescence is utterly infectious and there’s a genuinely magical feeling to be had as she draws from the energy of the multi- generational and multi-gendered crowd and returns it in the form of unrestrained joy. To not just witness but also take part in the two-step dancing during ‘I Wanna Be A Cowboy, Baby’ is an absolute hoot, while the crowd singing along to ‘Stay For Something”s “But I just can’t do that!” is fuelled by a sense of collective humanity. At one point, CMAT drapes herself in a Welsh flag, declaring that she’s going to sing ‘the Welsh national anthem’ before launching into Catatonia’s Road Rage. “Cerys Matthews is the real CMAT,” she quips. Blending pop, power and positivity, CMAT is the perfect package.
So dependable are Underworld as festival fixtures that it can perhaps be too easy to take them for granted. But as those sainted rhythms of ‘Dark Train’ begin to pulse out of the PA at a ground-shaking volume for their Saturday night headliner on the Mountain Stage, then only a fool would try to second guess them. Likewise, Underworld themselves leave nothing to chance. The pounding dance monster that is ‘Cowgirl’ is bolstered by extra heft from a fattened kick drum and the bowel quaking sub bass swimming beneath it. But what makes Underworld such an amazing experience after all these years is that total surrender to unabashed and unstrained dancing is the only response to their onslaught. ‘King Of Snake’ uncoils and extends like a relentless beast, the BPMs and sequencers demanding and securing a visceral, physical and yes, ecstatic response. Generations above and below those who’ve grown up with the band are out in force and united as one for the closing banger of ‘Born Slippy’. Consider our shit totally lost.
You’d be forgiven for thinking that we’d all be danced out after Saturday night’s shenanigans but no. Bringing the slinky disco and smooth funk of the 70s to early Sunday afternoon is Indian-American artist Asha Puthli, whose evocations of a bygone age prove to be just the tonic for those still basking in the afterglow of their personal Saturday night fever.
Later on, Warmduscher stormed the Mountain Stage to bring a much-needed dose of anarchic energy and raw sense of fun to the final day of the festival. Over the next hour they deliver the filthiest, wrongest music of the weekend, with riffs from ‘Midnight Dipper’ and ‘I Got Friends’ dripping in sleaze as frontman Clams Baker Jr stalks the stage, whipping the crowd into a late-festival frenzy. Early on Clams spots fellow artist and collaborator Nuha Ruby Ra in the audience and called her up. She clambers over the barrier to join the band for ‘Disco Peanuts’ and then never really leaves, brilliantly feeding the chaos as she dances between keys player Marley Mackey and bassist Ben Romans-Hopcraft. As the band tear through other highlights ‘Fashion Week’ and ‘Whale City’, the entire crowd bounce in unison, easily matching the energy and impact of any of the weekend’s official headliners. Eventually Clams abandons the stage altogether, singing the final three songs from the pit before tossing his mic back to the tech and vanishing off into the dusty festival sunset.
I’m sure I’m not the only member of a packed audience for poet-musician Joshua Idehen who’s been drawn here by hearing his instant classic ‘Mum Does The Washing’ on 6 Music over the past year. The song, which uses the titular scenario as a device to unpack everything from capitalism to libertarianism, colonialism and surrealism, encapsulates Idehen’s approach perfectly: a blend of spoken-word poetry set to sharp, playful electronic beats, full of wry humour and clever wordplay that makes room for weightier political ideas, delivered free of dogma and with a generous helping of joy. That he performs it mid-set and still manages to hold the crowd rapt speaks volumes about his presence. Idehen radiates charm and sincerity, leading the audience in preacher-like fashion, halving us down the centre into a call-and-response of “love” and “rhythm” or conducting us in a “Nigerian wave” (front to back instead of side to side). He transforms the Walled Garden into something close to a congregation – evoking the sign of peace from his Roman Catholic roots, that brief moment when a gathered crowd becomes a true community – asking us to shake the hands of all around us and replacing ‘Peace be with you’ with ‘You are good’. Idehen, flanked by DJ and producer Ludvig Parment, delivers this rave sermon – all bouncy club beats, pulsing rhythms, and lyrical playfulness – before launching into an unexpected but utterly coherent cover of Talking Heads’ ‘Once in a Lifetime’, adding his own lines (“You may find yourself living in a house with seven other people who are not your friends”). If this all sounds a bit like I’ve been indoctrinated, then I suppose you’ll just have to consider me a convert.
Back at the Mountain, any worries that Beth Gibbons’ ethereal blend of folk, jazz and even classical textures might be lost in the space in front of the biggest stage are soon dispelled. Clutching her mic as if holding on for support, her voice remains every bit as distinctive as ever as it reaches those high notes with grace. Her band shine bright too as they bring her solo debut Lives Outgrown to life, a superb meditation on the relentless rolling of time. Tonight’s performance is nothing less than mesmerising, each song played with equal weight and importance. ‘Floating On A Moment’ ebbs and flows. while delicate ‘Whispering Love’ hovers like a ghost. And the welcome renditions of Portishead”s ‘Roads’ and ‘Glory Box’ have lost none of their power. As evidenced by the standing ovation in the seated areas and cheers everywhere else, this is what a triumph looks and sounds like.
Following a 10-year hiatus, the reconvened TV On The Radio bring this year’s edition of Green Man to a close. From the opening bars of ‘Young Liars’ to the ecstatic release of ‘Wolf Like Me’, their set is a masterclass in emotional tension and sonic architecture. Tunde Adebimpe prowls the stage, part-preacher, part-magician, while Kyp Malone’s guitar howls and his falsetto voice weaves through Jaleel Bunton’s inventive soundscapes and licks. A brilliant performance of raw transcendence. As the effigy off the Green Man erupts in flames at midnight to bring another edition of this unique gathering to a closer, the thousands gathered around it laugh, whoop and smile, content in the knowledge that the best festival of its kind just got even better.
