Anyone considering going to the Isle of Wight festival next year should factor in a quick stop at Dimbola Museum in Freshwater Bay en route. This former home of pioneering Victorian photographer Julia Margaret Cameron also houses an exhibition that makes you remember the festival’s extraordinary rock and roll history — not least as the site of Jimi Hendrix’s final UK performance in 1970, just across the fields from Dimbola.
Legend has it that Robert Smith tried to attend the show with his older brother, but was barred from entering because he was too young. A full circle moment, then, that The Cure closed out this year’s festival with a mesmerising, atmospheric set that fortuitously fell on the summer solstice. The two-and-a-half-hour show might have intimidated non-fans, but even they must have conceded that its euphoric poppy conclusion, starting with Friday I’m In Love followed by Let’s Go To Bed, The Lovecats, Why Can’t I Be You and, finally, Boys Don’t Cry, was more than worth the wait.
The fact that The Cure are enjoying renewed relevance after collaborations with Olivia Rodrigo (on stage at Glastonbury last year, on her new album this year) must have added intrigue for younger festivalgoers. Not that there were all that many of them.
As a millennial, I felt firmly towards the younger end of the crowd spectrum — no complaints, it’s nice to feel young at a festival for once. The Gen Z contingent could mostly be found in the Big Top tent, braving the sauna-like atmosphere to catch younger artists like Rose Gray and Luvcat, whose jazzy vocals and Gothic romance were well worth sweating it out for. Much fanfare was also made of The Molotovs, the teenage sibling duo who recently took their punchy punk sound on tour with Yungblud.
But, on the whole, this was a festival focused on nostalgia. Some of this was mind-numbing (Rita Ora’s lacklustre set), some was charming (David Gray’s dad dancing), but all it had a time-warpy, bittersweet effect.
The Kooks were a case in point. They won the crowd over easily with hits from their first studio album, Inside In/Inside Out, which turned 20 earlier this year. The music videos that played in the background of much of their set were an unnecessary reminder of how badly a lot of early Noughties pop culture has aged. More to the point, they didn’t need it — Luke Pritchard’s vocals sound as good now as they ever did, and there were a few audible sobs during his moving rendition of ‘See Me Now’, a song about his late father.
Underpinning all of this was the fact that the sound quality was unfailingly excellent. Other festivals should take note.
