It’s hotter than hell in the Cotswolds. The kind of hot that brings 23,000 rock and alt folks sweating out into the Gloucestershire fields for four days of loud fan-driven music across a packed clashfinder.
Roots on the ground and head to the sky (as Erri de Luca says) 2000 Trees is a festival that wears its values on its sleeve. Proudly platforming Kneecap in a summer when they’re hitting the legal headlines, ‘Free Palestine’ rumbles from the crowd almost as frequently as ‘bloody wasps’. It is also a diversity safehaven and active promoter of female fronted, global-majority, and gender non-conforming bands. From Karen Dio to Røry, mid-life women are finally taking up space in an alt-scene where they were once conspicuously absent (we’re looking at you Back to the Beginning).
As the festival has grown up, so has it’s fanbase. Nowadays shout-outs to the over-30s are basically aimed at the majority. But with that come the perfect mix of relatively clean campsites and metalheads who have chosen, as festival mainstay Frank Turner reminds us, to not grow up. Turning 18 this year, this fiercely independent festival is now old enough to drink. And drink we did. As the local cider flowed, we wandered the fields for a little light music:
Credit: @JezPennington
WEDNESDAY
More prequel than festival proper, Wednesday at Trees is always the soft landing. This doesn’t mean they go light on quality though. Wildly beloved britpunkers The Meffs packed out the Word tent and beyond, with strong crowd surfing from the start. Then as dark fell on a teeming Forest stage, under a packed leafy canopy Mancunian Hot Milk delivered a genre-crossing set that delighted everyone from pop-punks to hardcore heads. As any Trees’ regular will tell you, forest dancing with strangers is the only way to wind up a hot July night.
Hot Milk. Credit: @snaprockandpop
THURSDAY
It’s not even noon yet, and campers are still trailing in, hunting for spots in the sea of tents. Down at the Neu stage melodic metallers San Demas are belting tunes to heal broken angry hearts to a packed tent of established fans. Their 90s-tinged ballads are the perfect way to tumble into a series of sunshine dance-along sets from Mancunians Pavé and Hertfordshire The Hunna.
It’s pretty early doors, but Karen Dió is the hottest Trees newcomer, catapulting straight to main stage. 20 years into her musical career in Brazil, she is breaking the UK scene. She gives us a ‘first date’ intro to herself (Sagittarius apparently), before claiming the stage as her own. From full-bodied heart rippers, to Chappell Roan covers, to 30-second banger Buy My Merch, this is alt-fun at its finest.
Karen Dio. Credit @JezPennigton
By lunchtime the Himalayas are up front, riding on the release of their popular second album Bad Star. Catchy and likable, they offer solid if unremarkable anthemic garage rock that fills time before we move across to the Axiom, where mid-afternoon crowd pleasers Puppy bring feel-good bangers like World Stands Still alongside heavier grunge sounds. When a guitar amp misfires, the crowd pick up the slack, clapping until they get the song back on track in a moment that is quintessential Trees.
Though Puppy ditched their Matrix-themed leather fancy-dress in the heat, Battlesnake are doing no such thing. Marching in Sacred Heart bedsheet robes and Gen-X abhorrent tall socks, to irreverent classic Pie Jesu Domine, they crash the Forest with ridiculous flair. Half the audience must have gone up and over the pit-barrier during their ultra-heavy insouciant nonsense.
Thursday evening is for the political firebrands. Flanking the fiery, kick-ass electropop of LGBTQ+ advocates Pvris are the vehemently anti-genocide voices of Hyphen and Kneecap. Portsmouth rap-punk hotshot Hyphen bring a voice for change that gets the biggest outpouring of love we’ve seen all day. Emerging to a provocative blast of Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song from his band and lauding his own Indian-born parents’ contributions to society as doctor and teacher, he seethes with educated, lived-in indignation. Raising solidarity with tour-mate Bob Vylan, whose outspokenness has drawn the ire of the establishment, the crowd erupts in a shared fury for political justice in the Levant and racial justice at home.
“I don’t know if you know, but I’m in a bit of bother” Mo Chara quips to a jam-packed mainstage, inviting us to his next court date for something ‘like a very criminal Live Aid’. The Irish, as they point out, are always on the side of the oppressed, and he sees himself as a scapegoat for the genocide in Palestine. Kneecap were a visionary booking by Trees, who have gleefully enjoyed announcing their non-cancellation in the face of other festivals pressured to drop the Belfast hip hop trio. It is a set that fully embodies the festival ethos of community: a place where no matter who you are, you can leave your empties with a stranger, dance with a stranger, and lose yourself in the ever-growing pit.
Kneecap. Credit @snaprockandpop
FRIDAY
The shady forest is already packed at 11.30am: camp chairs, fans, and picnic blankets laid out for the long haul. Spare Kid kicks things off bravely with Stargazing which they literally wrote backstage. Self-confessed writers of melancholia, their pop-punk energy nevertheless sets a jolly tone. Right on their heels, Coheed and Cambria get a cheer so loud you could hear in Cheltenham. It’s classic Trees to have the co-headliners do a Forest acoustic set, and it’s not always a winner. However Coheed and Cambria are as good – if not better – unplugged in the pines as they are later on the mainstage.
The forest is packed packed, and sweaty as all hell by lunchtime, for Frank Turner’s beloved acoustic take on his 2008 masterpiece Love Ire and Song. Album sets dig out rarely played cuts, and while crowd pleasers like I knew Prufrock Before He got Famous are his signature massive sing-alongs, rarely played heartbreakers such as Jetlag feel like a real tear-jerking treat. For seasoned Trees veterans, nothing else across the weekend will have come close.
There’s been gentle muttering round site to check out Julia Wolf who is making waves in the alt-pop scene. They weren’t wrong. Boasting an incredible voice, a new album, and Alanis Morissette emotional energy, Wolf won the hearts of every tattooed soul. And while by no means a matching Forest-stage pair, if you liked Wolf, you also loved Hevenshe. When Jenna MacDougall, radiating classic rock energy, asks if you’re ready to get up into your feels with her, you are. You absolutely are. With heart jerkers about love and happiness and pals, this is the endearing, manifesting, hippy shit that will be bringing her back to Trees year after year.
However the Forest isn’t the only place punters are hiding for shade: over at the Neu stage they’re catching Youth Fountain whose set of emo-ish strum-tasic sounds and mental health themes is impressively built entirely from audience requests. Deadlock is a particular winner and it’s clear that mainman Tyler Zanon is here with his people. Sticking around for Venus Grrls offered a raspy dose of teatime riot grrl grunge, that invites us to band together as a coven to get through the songs.
Million Dead. Credit @snaprockandpop
It’s a perfect lead in to the most hotly-anticipated musical coup of the festival: the long-awaited return of Million Dead. And if you’re not here for a savage prog rock meditation on failed agricultural revolutions in Scotland, what are you even doing? It’s been 20 acrimonious years since Frank Turner’s post-hardcore posse last graced a stage like this, but time is a healer; pints were had; and James Scarlett is a promoter with an eye to an opportunity. If they were going to come back anywhere it was going to be here at Upcote Farm.
Evening is rolling in and while tired jokes from bands about counting the trees are cliché, the golden-hour Cotswold hills beyond the fluttering festival flags are like a verdant set from the Shire. Into this bucolic scene co-headliners Coheed and Cambria bring big guitar energy from the hey days of metal. Bewildering new album Vaxis – Act III is recently out, but aside from a mind-boggling concept, it’s full of the ultimate summer vibes. There are riffs. There are key changes. There are power ballads. There is a ridiculous double stemmed guitar played behind Claudio Sanchez’s rock-god head. Honestly, Coheed and Cambria are utterly uncool: and we LOVE it.
Coheed and Cambria. Credit @JezPennington
It is a hard act to follow for turn of the century emo mainstays Taking Back Sunday. Are You Up For It was a timely headline opener, and the crowd, though dusty and cider-tired, certainly were. Nevertheless, as dark crept in the band struggle to keep momentum, and even Adam Lazzara puppyish positivity and a fan-favourites setlist didn’t hold the attention of a dwindling field who were setting off to the real Friday finale: local skiffle-pop silliness Thrill Collins at the silent disco.
SATURDAY
So it’s the final day. We are hot and tired. Barely any hours ago Robbie Williams Angels was still belting out across the campsite at 3am. Perhaps inevitably then, Gen and the Degenerates open the main state to a relatively small crowd. Which is a damn shame because this is the most fun you could be having while resisting the kyriarchy. Most are already converts to Gen’s party-starting queer love punk combo of activism and whimsy. Between songs about sorting your life out while the world burns, Gen urges fans to email MPs like they’re your personal assistant: ‘Only the psychos do it now—let’s beat them in a cute fun way’. From the irreverent Wahoo to defiant closer Anti-Fun Propaganda, Gen radiates warmth, wit, and the kind of charm that makes you want to be their (Instagram) friend.
Ambling about seeking shade it was worth taking in the pure indie-rock Honey Buzz at the Neu stage where elfin front-woman Lydia Read is owning space like they’ve always been there. Across the field Bleech gave an unchallenging backing track to a subdued Axiom of folks seeking a cross breeze, while a couple of Forest flybys for Helsinki anthemic pop-rockers Cyan Kicks suggests they were a missed opportunity. At the other end of music, The Hara immediately demanded a pit on the uneven woodchip. Punters who prefer their tunes heavy were in the Cave, where gritty Glaswegian punks Soapbox bought anti-fascist audience-participation energy to the flagging late afternoon spot. It was loud, shouty, and weirdly great for a nap, if that is how you take your rest.
Drag Queen Story Hour. Credit @JezPennington
All this while, the Word stage has been podcasts for the grown-up and antics for the wains. 2 Promoters 1 Pod is especially packed, as Gav McNally (of Damnation) and James Scarlett (the force behind 2000 Trees and ArcTanGent) trade festival war-stories. In predictable waggish style, these include wrestling pigs out of the VIP campsite and undertaking swan surveillance. While technically for the kids, Drag Queen Story Hour drew a suspiciously large number of unaccompanied adults. Guilty as charged. Be-wigged rainbow professional, Aida H Dee led us through The Three Goats United, in which Eddie the pink goat defeats the wolf by… pooping on its head. Instant classic.
Back at the mainstage Catbite were a lunchtime treat: who doesn’t need a spot of infectious joyful ska with an ice cream? It’s the final date of their European tour, so when they belt out ‘excuse me miss but after this kiss, where do I fall upon your list’ sadly the answer is right at the bottom. But not to worry, they will be back in the autumn. Later, veteran Trees chaosters Vukovi take the teatime slot for a super fun heavy pop punk performance. Unfortunately the stage is basically molten lava, which is unideal for Janine Shilstone who is sweltering in a be-chained bodysuit and the sartorial shame of borrowed crocs. Powering through for their huge fan base, the Scottish duo kept it loud and righteous right up to the final belter La Di Da as Janine launches herself into the pit with the most Glasgow of all rally cries ‘yous’d all better fucking catch me’.
Letlive. Credit: @JezPennington
Yesterday’s Million Dead set was not the only pivotal band reunion. Letlive have been much mourned over the past eight years, and having them back on stage for (perhaps) a final blistering performance was a festival-defining moment. From opener Le Prologue through Good Mourning America to safe gigs for women call Muther, Jason Aalon Butler is here to channel his anger and invoke the rock faithful to do the same. ‘All the energy that we use in the alternative scene, we can take it into the so-called real world and effect change’. The passing of time has not mellowed his antics, though. Kecks off and he’s swarming up the main stage framing like a gecko on a mission. If Sincerely Yours really is the last tour, then everyone in that swelling pit belongs to Letlive, fully, sincerely, still. And then there’s post-hardcore royalty Alexisonfire. This reunion is a likewise a life -defining set for many fans. Alexis were their first great musical love, and it ripples across a packed mainstage.
Røry. Credit @carlamund
But down in the cool of the forest there’s a new voice rising, who is taking the alt-scene by storm. If the headliners are reliving their youth, Røry is singing to a new furiously big love audience. From opener Anti-represent, we are not so much at a gig as a group catharsis. After many false starts in life and music, recent studio album Restoration cracked the UK top 10 and Røry could not be more grateful. Sober, ADHD-diagnosed, and happily in love, she counts her blessings while exorcizing her grief and demons. In gut-punchers like One Drink Away and soul-ripping Wolves she invites us to do the same. As emotionally charged as her songs are, Rory is funny (I’m wearing a latex body suit so if my tits pop out please give me a shout, it’s not that sort of show) genuine, and just plain lovely. She is here with her people, trying out a new song (and then rick-rolling it on social media), before bringing the festival to a triumphal close with Sorry I’m Late. You aren’t, Røry. And neither are we.
Until next time, 2000 Trees.