Review: Steelhouse Festival 2021 Friday

Looking back at my photo albums from past gigs I was struck by the poignancy of one of the last before the covid lockdown was announced. The performer was Beth Hart, and she entered the auditorium through the crowd, hugging and kissing old and new friends and fans as she made her way to the stage. At the time I thought it was a lovely, warm and genuine way to start a gig, but little was I to know that both gigs and hugging family, let alone strangers, were about to become illegal!

A bleak period followed. Musicians seemed to be forgotten and even advised to train for “proper jobs”. Solutions were found. Live streams and kitchen sessions (Toyah anyone?) became our fix and we wondered what would be left when the restrictions, finally, if ever, ended.

Summer arrived and festival after festival announced that they were postponing until 2022. Another year before live music could ring out around a field looked inevitable. In South Wales, however, two stubborn souls refused to follow the trend. Steelhouse WOULD go ahead we were constantly told by Messrs Max and Mikey. Could they really pull it off?

They certainly could! Thanks to great relationships with the various local agencies it was green for go and I arrived at the infamous mountain track early Thursday night filled with excitement. That rapidly turned to dismay and borderline panic as just a few hundred yards up the hill wheels began to spin and progress halted. The acrid smell of clutch filled the air and our little motorhome came to a halt. Two attempts to get going again. Two wheel spinning, clutch wrecking failures. Calm down. Think! I reversed back to what I now decided was “The Start Line” at the entrance, gunned the engine, and hit the hill in a way that would have had the late Colin Macrae nodding his head in appreciation. Around the hairpin, spraying stones and bouncing from dip to crest we went, even catching up a car that had passed us when stuck. Lord knows what they thought as an old, white motorhome loomed in their mirrors. Finally, we crested the hill and were welcomed by the incredibly cheerful and helpful Steelhouse volunteers where we showed covid test results (mandatory for entry) and got our wrist bands before parking up in the already full camper van field for a BBQ and some much needed “liquid refreshment” and the question from my co-reviewer “Can I unclench now?”.

Friday dawned sunny and warm and you could literally feel the buzz of excitement. A soundcheck received cheers from amongst the campers. People walked to the entrance just to check there really was a stage and it wasn’t all an elaborate joke. You knew festival life was back when there was the first complaint about the toilets on social media and a group appeared to be breakfasting on a bottle of Jack Daniels and cans of beer outside a nearby motorhome.

The arena opened and as people passed through the gates there was genuine and heartfelt emotion. Those hugs preceded the music as long-separated friends ran into each other’s arms, revelling in the human contact so long denied them.

Friday “Up The Mountain” has gone from a band or two in the evening to an almost full day of music so at 15:30 the festival opened in a way that sums up just how much of a “family” the fans are. Throughout lockdown, a young lady called Rachel Thomas had been keeping spirits up with a cheerful and optimistic countdown until the start of the festival. So it was only fitting that she took nervously to the microphone and led the countdown of the last ten seconds before The Howling Tides took the stage. When they signed up to play they could have had no idea of the enormous significance their arrival on stage would represent. Would it overwhelm them? Would it heck as they proved to be thoroughly entertaining and energetic. Their sound is deliciously bluesy and was delivered with style and panache. Big round of applause guys, I am looking forward to catching up with you again on your travels and seeing how you develop.

The festival is based around the single-stage concept so you quickly develop a rhythm of music, beer, music, food, music, more beer, and so forth, or rather you would if it wasn’t for one of the few issues that became apparent as the queue for the bar reached almost clear across the arena (Steelhouse pride themselves on listening and Saturday was a very different and much drunker story).

Soon on stage were Matt Mitchell and the Coldhearts. I caught the band a couple of years ago at Ramblin’ Man and found them difficult to get excited about and I have to be honest and say they had the same effect this time around. There is nothing wrong with their performance, which is polished and musically very adept. Matt is an engaging performer and the songs are well written. It is just all a little bit “safe” and failed to move me the way I like music to do.

The same cannot be said for King Creature. Now I know the guys pretty well as they are a local band for me, and I have seen them in a number of settings (including the one, socially distanced gig that punctuated my lockdown) but this was another level again. They hit the stage with manic energy and proceeded to play one of the best received early sets I can remember seeing at a festival. I was clearly not alone as the crowd reaction grew and grew as they grabbed the attention and simply refused to give it back. Vocalist and bass player Dave Kellaway captivated with his menacing, prowling stage presence and guitarist Matt K Vincent seemed to be determined to rip out ear-crushing riffs and solos from every inch of stage he could find. New member Mike Stennett took a more laid-back approach and behind them, Jack Sutton Bassett was having a great time. Finishing the set with the three string players rocking out on the ego ramp was one of the images of the festival.

Next up was the ever-entertaining Raveneye featuring the musically gifted Oli Brown (today with Michael Blackwell on bass and Adam Breeze on drums). Oli is another performer who seems to be everywhere, from the drum riser, where he balances on the drums themselves, to the front of the stage. He also has the biggest smile of the weekend so far and is clearly loving being back on stage in front of an appreciative audience. The blues influence in his playing is clear but his skill is taking those influences and making them into something unique and much heavier.

Special guests The Quireboys take to the stage as the sun is getting low in the sky and I think I spend as much time singing along as I do taking photos whilst I am in the pit (sorry to any other photographers who found themselves nearby!). This, for me, is what I have missed. A huge feel-good factor as a band that knows their craft takes you through a set of songs you know and love and can sing along to. The field basically became a 4000 strong party with Spike, as always partying harder than anyone. There are some humorous moments (one where he spends an age introduces a song, then checks he is introducing the right one was adorable) and one touching moment as he passes his red flower to a young fan (before a whispered aside to the entire crowd not to tell her but it came from Poundland) amongst the musical gems. My face hurts from smiling and my voice, unused to singing along, is wrecked.

Finally, to a great welcome, local heroes Phil Campbell and the Bastard Sons take to the stage to the pumping strains of ‘Highway Star’. Immediately apparent is the change at the front as Andrew Hunt of Buffalo Summer takes over from Neil Starr as vocalist. It is a change that works well in my view, even if it is only temporary as his vocals seem more assured and stronger, as does his stage presence. It may have been me, but they didn’t seem to have the best sound of the day (I watched from further back which may have been responsible) but I still loved their set mixing homegrown songs (‘We’re the Bastards’ always makes me smile) and songs from Phil’s heritage with Motorhead (‘Going to Brazil’, ‘Silver Machine’ and ‘Ace of Spades’ amongst others).

No after-hours disco this year due to the licensing restrictions so we headed back to our camper and noticed the wind starting to gain in strength. The forecast wasn’t looking favourable as the heatwave came to an end so we retired and offered our favours to the Welsh Mountain Gods in exchange for them going easy on us.