We Out Here Festival 2024 review - generations of weirdness and wonder

I won’t give it loads about the atmosphere and attendees at We Out Here – suffice to say that in its fifth edition, it has maintained all the strengths I mentioned last year, with the added benefit of slicker-operating infrastructure having ironed out any remaining wrinkles in its new Dorset site. The navigability, sound levels, smooth running bars etc were all just a little better, which only added to the good vibes that have been there from the start.

Given how fun last year had been I wasn’t going to miss Thursday this time. As I set up my tent I could hear the brilliantly quirkly Bristolians Tara Clerkin Trio on the main stage, and kicked myself that I hadn’t paid much attention to the scheduling – on the principle that I liked the lineup so much I would trust in chance – but was immediately cheered by finding they were doing a second set the following day.

Heading into the site, and following my nose, I managed to hit a rich seam of quite extreme music that would really blow the cobwebs away. First, on the main stage, electronic experimentalist and mainstay of the Hyperdub label Loraine James was making a scouring racket with a live drummer. It was bold, full on drum’n’bass / krautrock influenced beats almost sparring with her electronic sculpture – but when it locked fully together it was glorious, and there was a sense of risk-taking that indicated this collaboration was still new but could mature very nicely.

From that I wandered straight into the thick of SANAM on the Lush Life stage. I was completely unfamiliar with the Lebanese band, but immediately smitten. They too had Krautrock influence, in rather larger helpings: every track was a bulldozer chug of drums, guitars, buzuq and analogue synths with Sandy Chamoun’s commanding vocal absolutely feeling like it was conducting a potent ritual.

A little wander around allowed me to catch Leicester rapper Sainté demonstrating abundant laid back charisma, and hear Jerry Dammers spinning his treasure trove of old reggae 7”s, before heading into the straw-bale-built Rhythm Corner arena for some drum’n’bass. I just caught the last few tracks of DJ Flight, who with MC LowQui had the vibe warm and genial already, before LTJ Bukem took over – still with LowQui on the mic – and seemed to make the entire arena get airborne.

It helped that at this point I managed to bump into some old university friends: the exact people who I had first danced to Bukem with 30 years previously. And this was also where We Out Here’s representative age, race, class and gender mix came into play: looking around at such a variety of dancers around us was a huge flashback to the come-one-come-all spirit of the rave days. This wasn’t just a throwback, though. Bukem did play classic tunes, but new styles too, all cut together with true craftsmanship, and the interplay between him, LowQui and the crowd was a masterclass in participatory energy-building.

The rain had begun to set in, but I still managed to catch the entire main stage set by Chicago house originator Ron Trent and his WARM project. A full live band including Italian new age / ambient cult artist Gigi Masin on keys, they managed to recreate the sumptuous drifting vibes of the 2022 WARM album, drone-shot cityscapes projected behind them a surreal addition in the damp English countryside. It was a gorgeous but melancholic experience, and though I did my best to summon up energy for Tash LC’s riotous Afro-techno, and an even more full on acid-rave-jungle-whatever set by Kode 9 and Sherelle afterwards, by 1am discretion was the better part of valour and I turned in.

I was glad I did, as I was fresh for that Tara Clerkin Trio second set at midday, in the small dining / drinking tent Brawnswood. Thankfully they lived up to their delicate records. Building lop-sided loops of voice, clarinet, processed drum kit, keyboards and more, their wry, eerie songs each felt like a miniature world being conjured out of nothing. It’s rare that a band sounds so utterly themselves, and to experience this uniqueness in person was a treat and felt nourishing to mind and spirit.

The main stage delivered treats through Friday too. Cassie Kinoshi’s sprawling Seed ensemble played the kind of cosmic orchestrated jazz that sits squarely at the heart of We Out Here and its curator Gilles Peterson’s world – complete with Pharaoh Sanders tribute – but done with personality, panache and the added embellishment of turntable manipualtor NikNak’s sonic punctuation, which was genuinely jazz in nature rather than tacked-on hip hop affectation. The 74-year-old Lonnie Holley was simply mindblowing: his death-obsessed yet inspirational mystical gospel-blues holler with a raw rock backing made him feel like nothing so much as a black Captain Beefheart (or perhaps Beefheart was a white Holley all along?).

Irreversible Entanglements turned on a veritable firehose of free jazzI wandered for a bit, catching some of an almost impossibly gentle acoustic set by singer-songwriter Daudi Matsiko, which in the intimacy of Brawnswood’s setting was intense and compelling – then a more widescreen set from his fellow Nottingham artist JIM who with his band sounded like nothing so much as Crosby, Stills & Nash reclining on an Ibizan beach. Then back to the main stage for more bracing sound, with Irreversible Entanglements turning on a veritable firehose of free jazz with Philadelphia MC / singer Moor Mother – who had already briefly guested with Holley – being fearsomely, militantly inspirational in the midst of it all.

I only caught a little of Ghanaian highlife legend Ebo Taylor but even at 88 years old, the energy of his performance was off the charts. Even if he was letting his “Family Band” do the heavy lifting, his personality radiated from the stage. From then on in it was DJs: I enjoyed some ultra-futurist genre-agnostic grooves from Yussh, a much-needed 90 minutes of sheer balm for the soul as Alex Rita & Errol of Touching Bass built from rare groove into ebbing and flowing deep house in the Bowl arena, then the most full-on experience as Mr Scruff and Charlie Dark strung together disco, house and Afro facemelters in the Love Dancin’ tent with Vanessa Freeman providing live vocals of such diva quality it became baffling to realise they weren’t on the records being spun.

I tried to stay up for Ron Trent’s late night DJ set in The Bowl, honestly I did. But pretty much the only complaint I have about the whole festival is that Friday night was so completely dedicated to house music in just about every corner that I got… well… housed-out, and when even the varied beats of Matthew Herbert or the full-on classic vocal house of Jeremy Underground couldn’t revivify me, again come 1am I conceded defeat.

Saturday started pretty much perfectly, with a showcase on the main stage by trumpeter/bandleader Matthew Halsall’s Gondwana label. I set up my camping chair in the sunshine and let the sunshine, and the blissful ripples of pianos, harps and flutes of first The Ancient Infinity Orchestra then Halsall himself wash over me – it was delicious, and I would have been perfectly happy if the experience was twice as long. There was a bit of extra pep with a charismatic set from Corinne Bailey Rae who has settled extremely well into her second career act as a politicised, experimental artist – but retained just enough showbiz instinct to really own the stage.

I dashed to catch the second half of Dee Dee Bridgewater (pictured below) – still a disco-jazz-funk diva at 74, in ludicrously fine voice and holding a huge and buzzing main stage crowd in the palm of her hand. Then again, it was all about DJs, this time way more varied. Again reunited with my 90s raving buddies, I took in the full three hours of dance royalty Laurent Garnier, who gave a masterclass in pacing, warming us up with house, going around the genre houses and ending by turning the entire Rhythm Corner into a disco carnival with “I Feel Love” and “Mighty Real”. I followed that with some heavy bass in the small Studio Monkey Shoulder tent which first the brilliant Mancunian MC Chunky genially lorded it over, then UK garage / dubstep godfather El-B turned into a complete sweat pit.

A little ultra-bleak rap from CASISDEAD, and some slick Latin jazz from Louie Vega’s Elements Of Life, and finally an hour of Flo Real opening up a showcase of Detroit house pioneers back in Rhythm Corner with her velvet-coated funk-infused sounds mixed with massive panache, and I was ready to go and do my own thing. For the second year I was doing small hours ambient music in the Once In A Blue Moon Tea Tent, this year expanded but still very much a sedentary space with rugs and cushions galore. It was situated by the exit to the main campsite so the perfect spot to gather together waifs and strays, and I had three magic hours including an extremely surprising duo of women arriving, doing an interpretive dance routine to Gilli Smyth’s acid-drenched fairytale “Taliesin” for nine minutes, taking a bow then skipping off into the night.

Sunday was more or less a write-off. I reeled at just how musically and psychically receptive the tea tent had been, then checked myself and realised that of course a festival where people would actively rave to militant free jazz mid afternoon is going to be OK with Gong offshoots, doom drone dub and Ravel quintets at 4am. I had to pack up and prepare to drive home, but I did manage to catch a little of charming Brazilian singer-songwriter Rogê, a chunk of Andre 3000’s new age flute noodling, a couple of songs of Tomorrow’s Warriors youth programme protegé and neo-soul / reggae star in the making Kianja, and a last blast of heavy roots and dub from Channel One and Dennis Bovell.

Then it was off back into the quotidian, aching a little, reeling with the intensity of musical experiences I’d had, still fighting off the looming FOMO which was the reason I’d tried to avoid looking too hard at the schedules, but generally glowing with the sense that good things are possible. All the good social aspects of WOH are still present and correct, and the programming – with the exception of one evening’s house overload (although few of the late night festivalgoers seemed to be complaining) – is maybe even better than ever.

In particular, the extremity of acts like Loraine James, SANAM, Lonnie Holley and Irreversible Entanglements on the big stages next to the pure good times sound sof house, garage, samba, disco and the rest made it abundantly clear this was about jazz and its offshoots still surging with life and still pushing against boundaries. I’m still trying not to dip into hyperbole about the WOH ethos, but when a festival has a crowd from teens to 80s enjoying acts with the same age range in an atmosphere of curiosity, mutual respect and cutting loose, it’s not easy. This, as a wise man once said, is how it should be done.

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@joemuggs