Womad 2010

Amongst the dry stone walls of Charlton Park in the Cotswolds nestles the World of Music, Art and Dance festival, or to you, me and 40,000 festival goers, WOMAD. This year’s instalment – its tenth anniversary – leaves a reviewer at pains to cover a large chunk of territory and some 70 artists from 30 countries on 9 stages.

I’d like to put my best foot forward and start by offering an apology to a large portion of acts I didn’t get along to. The feedback from fellow Nomads underlined something for all tastes occurs in the shape of a wondrous array of music, stalls, and art installations.

Onto the bits and pieces I did manage to devour like a Manic Organic hummus and aubergine wrap. The line up assembled a smattering of big names such as Afro Celt Sound System, Cerys Matthews, Ozomatli, Don Letts, Ska Cubano and Gil Scott-Heron but of course at a festival championing acts from all over the world, the lesser known groups are an equal pleasure to discover.

Angelique Kidjo was a triumph of red floaty dress, dancing children and bongoing; Dan Sultan provided some rockalholics relief with his jogging on the spot upbeat numbers. The legendary Don Letts’ DJ set was top drawer with classic dub step reggae throwing up the timeless Voodooby and Dawn Penn’s rehashed No No No with Bounty Killer to mention but two. Syriana, complete with lead singer’s fetching blue snakeskin blazer, were highly enjoyable providing some beautiful renditions of central Asian folk songs.

Imogen Heap was a heap of noise and Sofrito Soundsystem unfortunately were the victims of a cataclysm of teenagers giving the arena they played in a slightly odd feel that I didn’t care for. Phantom Limb were good from afar and the Inuit throat singer, Tanya Tagaq – maybe it should be TaGAG - was far from good. The Malian albino Salif Keita was as compelling as ever and Dobet Gnorhe stole a piece of the audience’s heart with her beautiful voice, rhythmic show stopping dancing and collar bones you could happily trust with safe carriage of your family photos. Hanggai were alternative and embodied the surprises this unique gathering can throw up, and lastly, Qawwali is a fascinating rhythm. I regret that I had to leave before Gil Scott-Heron, who was somewhat annoyingly scheduled for late on Sunday night, though I imagine he would have been on Saturday if it were possible in what must be a busy tour schedule for him on the back of his latest resurgence.

Music aside, Womad’s real triumph is its ethos and atmosphere. Unlike other festivals that try to be different, whacky, oh so out there with fundamentals in short supply, Womad can claim excellent food, practically a hippie shopping mall of stalls and Heron aside, carefully allotted acts over what can be a fairly long walk between stages. The sound system deserves singling out and I’m delighted to say I’ve never seen a more family safe and disability-savvy festival. Plaudits are due to those that have taken care and attention to those aspects.

I must also give personal thanks the inimitable Yardley, without whom I may still be laying in a field or at the very least had a thoroughly unpleasant Friday soiree to myself and a dewy field after being unable to locate my newly pitched tent until his timely intervention and selfless guidance.