Perhaps the most appropriately named festival in the UK, Green Man is all about the lushness. Its site is nestled amongst the Brecon Beacons, and their stentorian verdancy backdrops the event. Perhaps it’s due to their ever-present guardianship that the festival is so unassumingly eco-conscious; there’s barely a cup to be seen on the floor, and every camper conscientiously sorts their recycling, while Einstein’s Garden, packed with keen Phd students running fun research projects and experiments is thronged.
This year, the sun is — unusually — gloriously full-on, and the dust is rising. We’re here with teenagers, festival first-timers, overawed at the scale of the event, the upbeat audience and the sheer volume of Things To Do. The beauty of Green Man is in its variety; yes, there’s lots of music, but also films, comedy, talks, dance and circus, workshops and healing. This spread means that families can very much do their own stuff, but reconvene for the blockbuster shows.
In practice, this looks like one teenager heading to a painting workshop, while another curls up in front of a screening of Dr Strangelove live, while the adults take in the dreamy drones of Daisy Rickman in the intimate walled garden or MJ Lenderman and the Wind’s loping indie pop on the main stage.
Then it’s together again, to commune and groove. A down-the-front, high-octane performance by Kneecap in the Far Out tent, fired-up and political, but not so hardened that they can’t welcome 'Helen from Wales'; the cafe-owner who live-streamed their Glastonbury Show when the BBC refused to give the band airtime, and give her a big hug.
And we’re together for Wet Leg, who, at their most powerful, stand confident and tall, gleefully extolling the virtues of comfortable furniture, for the grand, funny, country pop of the magnificent CMAT, and her star-is-born performance, and for Yard Act, with their wonky, abrasive, indie diatribes that cause a mosh-pit dust-storm
There’s another gathering, for the Broadside Hacks collective’s spellbinding tribute to Bob Dylan on the main Mountain Stage. Post biopic, Dylan’s music has taken centre stage on teenage Spotify playlists, so is comfortably familiar, but, beneath these mountains and reworked by fresh-faced folk artists Clara Mann and Dan MacDonald songs such as Masters of War feel fiercely political. And when The New Eves’ Nina Winder-Lind dons her Dylan drag to front a rowdier electric set, it’s clear this is one of the festival’s high points.
But it’s really not all about the music. The fun at this festival, as at all, lies in unexpected corners. A screening of The Warriors with live DJ accompaniment is a revelation in cool, there’s a near-triumph at Sunday afternoon’s film quiz, we try our hand at dry stone walling to general hilarity, and stay up way past midnight to join in a live comedy game show.
The talking tents provide shade and inspiration; the kids are introduced to the genius of Lawrence from Go Kart Mozart, but not before we learn more about the social history of Merthyr Tydfil than we ever knew we needed to.
And there are the happened-upon treats; dancing to brass bands at Chai Wallahs, watching a giant horse skull in a surprisingly graceful aerial dance and discovering a robot made of bin bags and crab legs propped up against a fence. Fresh homemade Welsh cakes sold from a stall run by a school PTA. Happening upon Kate Humble working unnanounced behind the book shop counter.
We poke our heads into the Little Folk area and end up staying; there’s a shady outdoor library, dancing and singing, and the wonderful Flying Seagulls kicking up a storm on their beautifully painted stage. It’s tempting to spend the whole weekend in this cheery little corner of the festival.
We meet up with friends who’ve done more than that; their Settlements tickets have meant a week in the Welsh countryside, with BBQs, silent discos, foraging trips and morning yoga sessions; a festival rolled into a proper summer holiday. It sounds pretty dreamy. As we watch the Green Man himself explode into sparks and flames we all make a silent vow to be back.
Festivals with Teenagers: What we Learned
• Let everyone do their own thing; teenagers — and parents — will relish the freedom.
• Even if that own thing is hanging out at the tent. Everyone has a different pace, right?
• Don’t plan too much — you happen upon the truly magical events unexpectedly.
• Travel light — food, water, shelter. Everything else is a bonus.
• Take multi-tasking products; Badger Balm acts as salve, a moisturiser and, dabbed under your noses, an anti-allergy wonder.
• Embrace the big crowds and get down the front; trust your fellow audience members to keep an eye out for smaller fans.
• Grab some paper maps and timetables and turn off your phones; the lack of internet coverage at Green Man means there’s barely a screen to be seen, and it’s a total dream.
• Don’t sweat the dinners. Teenagers can survive surprisingly well on pasta and chocolate.
• Don’t have a bedtime.
