For the first time in three years the Stradbally estate, in Co Laois, is transformed into a carnival of music, mirth and, yes, some mud as Electric Picnic stages its big post-Covid return. “Big” really is the word, with a record 70,000 attending the event, which sprawls around 17th-century Stradbally House.
But the most striking aspect of the weekend is how Electric Picnic it feels. For veterans of the festival — more than a few have surfaced by Sunday afternoon, ahead of a headline performance by Arctic Monkeys — there is a sense of coming home. A lot has happened since the festival was last held, in 2019, but Electric Picnic is reassuringly unchanged.
Fears of a washout gather at various points from Friday night, when Dermot Kennedy delivers an emotive set (topped off, for reasons best known to the Dublin singer-songwriter, with a 1970s-porn-star moustache). The rain does come swirling through overnight. But by Sunday the sun is blazing, and worries that Electric Picnic’s grand comeback might melt away in a deluge have, for the time being, evaporated with the rain.
Electric Picnic’s final day has an ambience all its own. The pressure to have an amazing weekend has faded. Instead, attendees are content to soak up the weather and wander the festival site a final time. And what a lot of wandering there is to do. At the MindField spoken-word area, the midafternoon lull is interrupted by a hip-hop song about the killing of Michael Collins booming out from the Leviathan tent (“Some say it was a dum-dum round / but no bullet has ever been found”).
Esoteric diversions are likewise to be found at the Greencrafts area, where people can sign up for make-your-own-soap workshops and for have-a-go thatching. It’s a charming throwback to times past — and also, potentially, a preview of how we’re going to spend the winter should energy prices rise any higher.
The first Electric Picnic, in 2004, ran for just a single day and had a capacity of around 15,000. In the years since then it has grown and grown. But Melvin Benn of Festival Republic, who runs the festival, rules out raising the capacity again in 2023. He explains the site has been reconfigured to allow for greater numbers this year — 57,000 attended in 2019. Most of the work has gone into expanding the main-stage area.
“We’ve got a bigger capacity. It needed to be bigger. It was pretty tight in 2019. Laois County Council were clear that I needed to make it a little bit bigger if I was going to go to the 70,000 capacity. It all started with that. Everything flowed from there. I think the arena is magnificent. I don’t think there’s a better main-stage festival arena in the world.”
Musically, the festival is crammed with highlights. On Friday, Pixies and Fontaines DC put on an indie-rock double-whammy at the Electric Arena tent. And Sunday’s bill features Snow Patrol and London Grammar, among others.
But the most memorable festival experiences are often to be found away from the bright lights of the bigger stages. On Saturday there is a heartbreaking performance by the Dublin artist David Balfe, who records as For Those I Love.
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Balfe’s music mixes spoken-word poetry with euphoric electronica. And it comes from a place of real rawness, with his debut album (also called For Those I Love) a tribute to his late friend Paul Curran, the poet. On the Rankin’s Wood stage he reveals that he and Curran had gone to Electric Picnic several years ago and partied in that very tent.
“I can feel you in this room,” he says — to us and to Curran. He then asks the audience to come together for a chant of “Olé, olé, olé”.
The most hackneyed call-and-response in Irish culture is usually a signal to flee for the hills. But with Balfe leading the chorus it becomes a moving homage to a lost friend. There is lots of laughter and celebration at EP2022. But it is the moments that bring a tear to the eye that stay with you.
