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The first thing you notice when you arrive at Green Man 2024 is the scenery. Whichever way you turn, at the festival site in Wales’ Brecon Beacons, the horizon is turreted by verdant mountains. They are also the second thing you notice, and the third; over the course of the weekend, you never stop noticing them. It feels, often, like an encounter with the sublime.
It’s a good job, then, that Green Man has a billing to match — an eclectic but palpably curated mix of music, comedy, film, performance art, speakers and workshops. Headlining the four-day event are tight, soulful electro-R&B act Sampha, producer and Spotify-stream titan Jon Hopkins (who arrives on stage some 35 minutes late, before launching into a vibey if unspectacular 90 minutes of electronica) and American folk-rockers Big Thief.
If Hopkins was slightly underwhelming, then Big Thief were the Real Deal. The prolific band, fronted by songwriting force of nature Adrianne Lenker, have slightly reinvented themselves in recent months, following the departure of their long-term bassist Max Oleartchik; here, they emerge as a five-piece, having both replaced him and added a second drumkit. They sound nothing short of phenomenal: crisper and more sonorous than I’ve ever heard them. Watching them play, it’s clear you are watching a major artist in their prime. That they are able to load their set list with new, unreleased material (and a smattering of old favourites — “Masterpiece”, “Not”) and still have the crowd rapt, tearful, singing along, speaks for itself.
Big Thief’s Saturday set, held on the naturally amphitheatrical Mountain Stage, would be enough to anchor a great festival by itself. But the bill had no shortage of other delights. Julia Holter, performing in the large and atmospheric Far Out tent, gives a slick and compelling set of sui generis art pop bangers. Jess Williamson — the American singer-songwriter who also forms half of Plains, with Waxahatchee — is absolutely captivating on the Walled Garden stage, hampered only by the occasional use of a backing track in lieu of a band.
The brilliant comedian Stewart Lee, here performing an enjoyable half-hour set of greatest hits, jokes that the only person of colour at the festival is the Green Man himself, the hulking humanoid artwork made of branches who is ceremoniously set ablaze at the festival’s close. Like most British festivals, the crowd is overwhelmingly white. But in terms of ages and sensibilities, Green Man seems to take many kinds. The festival has a reputation as a family-friendly affair, and there is certainly no shortage of sprogs running, playing or being carted around the site.
It’s an everyone-welcome ethos that also holds true to the lineup. One minute, we get seasoned veterans of the stage — Scottish alt-rockers The Jesus and Mary Chain, or cult favourites The Nightingales. The next, it’s young acts on the upswing of their careers: reliably rowdy Irish folk group The Mary Wallopers, punchy indie rock six-piece Blue Bendy, or, in the surprise slot, the brilliantly charismatic Porridge Radio. Irish blues covers singer Muireann Bradley, virtuosic on the finger-picked guitar, is somehow only 17. To go to Green Man is to feel music’s past, present and future collide — a feat that’s somehow as spectacular as the setting.
