The Arts & Culture Journal

It was Friday afternoon. Sean and I had pitched our tents and were preparing to make our way into the Bearded Theory arena. Then he appeared: Jonny Smiles. Jonny Smiles smiled, smiled in his face, smiled in his words, smiled just like the few thousand people gathered in the Derbyshire green. ‘Let me take you on a journey,’ he said, ‘let me guide you through the music and invert your being there.’

The sky was a patchwork of blue and white – as it was for much of the weekend – and it passed quickly over our heads. The rolling rhythm of a didgeridoo rose up round the back of the tents; it filled the air with anticipation. Jonny Smiles led the way and the acoustic gave space to the electric as we left camping and toured the Bearded grounds.

On the wings of the music – Dodgy by name, nineties by nature – slipping to the dance tent and back out to the main stage. We took flight passed the stalls, taking delight in the multi-coloured shawls and the price of a burger, half that of its larger cousins. Did Bearded Theory have a cousin? ‘Never mind that,’ Jonny Smiles said, ‘this occasion has occasioned the inversion to night.’ And the King Blues rolled, on the screaming night and the poetry struck; bright light; deep cut.

And there we stood – Sean, Jonny Smiles and I – spinning on our heels, thumping leading legs in amongst trance, psychedelic to taste. Zetan Spore – Cornish legends – and we’re caught back on the rhythm of the didgeridoo, then a crashing guitar but all underlined by a thickened and thinned bass, which rests for a moment to crack out the climax. The spinning lights from the Spores heads struck our corneas and we inverted back in time.

Dry ground. Combats-a-plenty – Senser ripped it up with a crowd less than cautious but they ripped, they ripped and ripped and Jonny Smiles span us forward – New Model