OK, the journey down on Friday afternoon was, quite frankly, cack. I hate the M25 at the best of times, whenever that might be, but on a sunny Friday afternoon in summer... It was lucky that Charlie had some decent tapes in the prog-mobile, or I'd've gone madder than a horses penis in a field of heather.

So we got down there later than what we expected to get there at. Big deal. Still plenty time to get totally Morrissed. Got the tent up in record time (2 hours) and staggered in just in time to see Marvellous Martin Orford plinking his fizzling thing. 'Overload', 'Quilmes', 'Fields of Fallen Angels', 'Tatras', 'Fusion' and 'Days of our Lives' off his fine solo album, "Classical Music and Pop Songs", followed by a bit of 'The Last Human Gateway'. Great set there from the boy wonder. Charlie has done a review of the solo album somewhere else here.

Next stepped up the Magnificent Mostly Autumn. Never seen or even heard of this bunch before, so I must say that I was well surprised! Excellent folky-poppy-prog stuff that went down an absolute treat with the assembled mass of pulsating bodies. I must get some of their stuff, and see them in a proper gig sometime. They were lush!

Headline band for the Friday were Celtus, but I'd passed out by the time they'd started, and had to be carried back to the tent. But by all accounts, they were very good too. Well, nearly all accounts. Someone said they were crap, but I didn't believe him. In fact, I punched him. Ok, I swung at him and fell over, ok!

Apparently we had a bit of a progging do back at the tent, but the rest of the buggers didn't wake me up. So it couldn't have been that good, eh?

Woke up on the Saturday just in time to catch Landmarq doing their acoustic set. And damn fine it was too. Tracy really has a great set of lungs on her, and boy, can she sing as well. She could be the missing link in the Landmarq jigsaw. Up to now, they've just been a bunch of very competent musicians writing and playing good prog rock music. But now, they have that added dimention X. And we all know a word ending in 'X' don't we!

I caught a bit of Gnidrolog afterwards and had to go to the facilities, then hit the 'town' for a bit to eat. Shame everywhere was shut. Perhaps they should hold the Festival during the week, so as not to disrupt the locals too much (though obviously not on a Wednesday because of early closing. Or Thursday, pension day).

Anyway, that meant that I'd missed the rest of the afternoon stuff. But that was just as well, because it was hot in there, and there was beer to be drunk.

We spent the afternoon chilling out, chatting to whichever stars came over to talk to us. Which was most of them, to be honest. Well, the important ones, anyway. Orford told us he was well pleased with the way his solo album had gone, and confirmed that it would be on sale that very evening. Charlie somehow managed to wangle a copy, as well as a snog from Tracy Hitchens. Bastard!

John Jowlet, the Brummie bastard, thought we'd be interested in what he'd been up to. And we were. There were talks of a prog rock supergroup, and a covers band ('Close to the Widge') neither of which will take off, I bet.

A quick game of football later (for some reason IQ didn't want to play against us this year! Frightened of anothr 5-3 hammering, or was Martin just protecting his arm?) and then it was time to head back inside for The Cardiacs. Boy, was I looking forwards to this. Not having seen them since 1997, I was well pumped up for it. But you don't want to hear how I got right down the front, pogoing for all I was worth, crashing into everyone else (Sorry Mr Mitchell, I didn't mean to spill your pernod). You want to know what they sound like. Surfise to say, if you like prog, you'll hate them. Simple as that you narrow minded morons. Well, I like prog and I like them, so what does that make me then? [A liar, Ed. You hated them but you want to appear hard, you narrow minded moron!] Yes I heard complaint, Yes I heard moans. But enough of that tent talk. The Cardiacs literally blew the roof off the hall! [metaphorically, not literally - Ed. Again] And in doing so re-wrote the design principles for future prog rock festivals!

So how could IQ follow that, eh? Well, by coming on after them for a start! Then by starting with the Menel classic Wurensh, followed by The Thousand Days. So that blew me away. Then came a new song, that I've completely forgotten, even though I think I liked it, followed by something from Subterranea, State of Mine, I think. Darkest Hour was up next. Always a pleasure to hear that one.  They also played another new song, from their forthcoming album, called 'Mikey Sick', named after a kid called Mikey who was sick once. Or something. The other highlights of a brilliant set, marred only by the frailty inherent in Pete Nicholls voice, were an emotional Magic Roundabout dedicated to their old friend Ledge Marshall, which brought a tear to my eye, an excellent Outer Limits, followed by The Wake, a little bit of Wiggle, a new long (Leppo) and the final number, Failsafe. They left the stage to rapturous applause, cat calls, and howls of joy and pain.

We knew they'd return, and boy, did they! Human Nature! Fantastic! Paul Menel would be green with envy. Subterranea followed that, but the piece de la resistance must have been the magnificent closer, Awake and Nervous. What a way to finish! Eat that, Cardiacs.

After the gig we chilled out with the IQ boys, and asked them loads of pertinent questions about Subterranea : The Concert (CD and Video now available from GEP), the next album, Marvin's solo CD, Pete's voice, Jowettes trousers, etc. But I forgot the answers. Hopefully one of the other will write it all up. Sorry, I was plastered. I got into a fight outside, later on. But that was with a tree. It won, and I fell asleep where I fell.

I awoke some time on Sunday, sprawled across the bonnet of a car. Some bugger had been sick down the side of it, and had splattered me a bit. Feeling decidedly fragile, I went off in search of showers. Thoroughly refreshed, if slightly damp, I wandered off into the town again in search of some breakfast. The smell of freshly cooked bacon butties drove me into wild paroxysms of food-fest, so I bought and consumed about six of them, washed down with a Irn Bru. As it was still early, I bought a Sunday paper (the Times, I'll have you know!) and sat in the park and read it, from cover to covers.

Then it was time for Arena to do their acoustic set. This was the other gig I was waiting for. But it turned out to be a big let down. Well, a bit of a let down, anyway. Ok, when they were actually playing, they were good. In some places exceptional even. But at other times it looked like they couldn't be bothered. I know that technical problems are normally beyond a bands ken, but when a singer (Ron Snowden, in this case) has to look to the keyboard player (Sir Clive, obviously!) to talk when something goes wrong, well, that's a poor show in my book. And as for forgetting the words!  I know it was just a Sunday afternoon acoustic gig, and that the people who had travelled ten times as far as me still enjoyed it, but it doesn't bode well for the upcoming Immortal tour. Sort it out Clive. Give him detention or something!

Anyway, they played Midas Vision, if not quite sang it, followed by Tears in the Rain, then a brilliant Medusa, before they stopped for a well earned fag break, while Clive took the Mick. Literally. Ha ha. They carried on with one of the Crying For Help parts, Fridays Dream, from Immortal? and State of Grace, which were all sun beautifully by Rob. Really. Another fag break followed, which in turn was followed by Jericho. John Mitchell (guitar) really shoned through on this one. Then they launched into 'The Enemy Without', to a very warm response. The encore is held up for a bit of a melodrama as John's broken his only guitar. Another one is promptly found, while Clive fiddles around with another part of Crying For Help. Rob looks on like a muppet. Anyway, they eventually get back on track with a cover of Duran Duran's Ordinary Song, er World. Why bother with it lads. Just play your own stuff. We don't want to hear acoustic versions of other peoples songs!

I didn't hang around for the rest of the acts, but Charlie tells me the Groundhogs were great.

So, all in all, it was another excellent Whitchurch Festival! Surpassing last years easily. Excellent weather, excellent bands, excellent beer and excellent food. And most of all, excellent company! Well done everyone involved with organising it this year. And special mention must go once again to the sexy Dave Martin! Well Done!

!Mad MikE!