From the moment your boots hit the grounds of Houghton Hall, your phone is rendered useless. The rural Norfolk parklands that surround the namesake property – originally built for Britain’s first Prime Minister, Sir Robert Walpole – remain disconnected from the outside world throughout the three-day music and arts festival, a deliberate choice by organisers who want punters to be “present”. Seriously, grabbing the WiFi password here is harder than breaking out of Alcatraz.
And it works. With your mobile suddenly as useful as an obsidian brick, people are forced to talk, connect, look around. While the majority of attendees flock to the festival for its bountiful 24-hour dance music programming (more on that later), Houghton is also one of the most singular, visually pleasing festivals in the UK. Not in a Boomtown or Tomorrowland way, where elaborate stages are painstakingly crafted to delight those with already-expanded pupils, but in a tasteful way, unlike any other festival setup I’ve come across.
The site is essentially an interactive sculpture park, with many works commissioned solely for the event itself. This year included a timber-and-thatch architectural “water tower” courtesy of Cella Collective and a trio of giant black PVC balloon sculptures by British artist Ryan Gander. Artist Chris Levine returned for a second serving of his dazzling light show, dispersing giant laser beams from the festival’s central lake, and festivalgoers once again enjoyed the comfort of Ebba’s glowing canopy installation in the woods, which transmits sound recordings taken from nearby trees. By far the kookiest was the participatory artwork by Henry Krokatsis, who enlisted volunteers to wash the feet of other festivalgoers (yes, really) in a billowing tent as an exploration into “humility and human connection.”
On top of all that, there are also regular art tours that pile small groups of punters on buses to the outer grounds for a guided visit to the contemporary sculptures, including works by James Turrell, Richard Long and Stephen Cox. (By this point you may have noticed an abundance of male artists, as we did — there’s a bit of room for improvement here). It’s an artistic feast, and a beautiful backdrop for the many hours of dancing.
Then there’s the music. Houghton is for the heads, as they say. This is not the type of festival where any average Tom, Dick, or Harry could recognise the majority of the lineup – you have to really enjoy your dance and electronic to squeeze the most out of this place. In keeping with the tasteful artistic offering, Houghton’s selection of live acts, producers and DJs is up there with the likes of Dekmantel, Horst, and the deepest, darkest recesses of Glastonbury’s South East corner (aka the best bits). This year included standout sets from the likes of Peach (times two), Prosumer, DJ Masda, Batu, OK Williams, Ben UFO, Moxie and Midland. Many of which took place within the labyrinthine forest, bathed in red and green lights, enjoyably impossible to navigate unless you’ve seen it in the daytime.
Houghton also boasts one of the hardest door queues in festival existence. Door queue? At a festival? For a… stage? Yes, that is correct. This is reality of Terminus, a small forest stage in a sort of sunken pit that can draw queues of up to four hours. It isn’t marked on the festival map and doesn’t have any listed programming, but often features some of the most impressive sets from DJs who (typically) are playing at other points during the weekend. It’s essentially Houghton’s Berghain – just without the requirement to dress or look the part (you paid £300 to be there, that’s obviously enough). Whether it’s “worth it” remains between you, your tolerance for queuing, and your own personal toss-up between the listed programming and what may lie inside. I’ve been twice (out of four Houghtons, mind you) and it’s never disappointed.
I know it might sound ridiculous, and this “underground hype mentality” side of Houghton has earned it an occasionally unfair reputation as a place for poshos to baa and rah while two-stepping in unconventional headwear. To this, I say: don’t believe the drama. And to quote Jemima Kirke, “I think you guys might be thinking about yourselves too much.” The average Houghton-goer is kind and inquisitive - it’s not an “exclusive” festival, even if the subreddit might have you think so.
But just in case you did need a final endorsement: A real mark of Houghton’s merit is how many producers and DJs actually attend the festival, or stick around beyond their set times. Keep your eyes peeled well enough and you’ll spot Daniel Avery in the floating restaurant or Peach walking through the crowd, plus countless more hiding beneath their very necessary face coverings (for the dust, not the fame). If Sasha Colby coined the phrase “your favourite drag queen's favourite drag queen,” then Houghton is your favourite DJ’s favourite festival. Long may she reign.
