Bearded Theory is the biggest, fanciest, and most widely regarded punk festival in the UK, and undoubtedly a whole hell of a lot of an event. Featuring a lineup tall with megastars and deep with festival favourites, Bearded Theory has been an iconic weekend in the shouty angry music world for almost two decades.
Following a recent ownership change, I decided to head along and check the festival out. In this review, I’m diving in to find out, first, is it actually any good, and second, is Bearded Theory still anarchic enough to be a truly punk festival?
Things started well. It took less than five minutes to get through accreditation and before I knew it, I was pitched up and opening a can. My friend Hannah who organises Tarantarti Party—swept by, picked me up on her bike, and we zoomed across site to our first band, with no objections from anyone in high—vis.
The first band was also a good sign. One of the punkiest, most grassroots acts on the scene, the Inner Terrestrials always deliver a bloody good gig, and despite the recent passing of long tme friend and ally Risky, they played a fantastic show in his honour. After rushing to get to the festival in time for the ITs, I had an immediate desire to let my hair down. Properly. Meeting up with more friends—including members of Monkeyfist (more on them later)—I began to boogie at the incredibly visually impressive Big Ed DJ Booth (Chris Liberator was particularly fun) and didn’t stop until I heard the rumours: Dogshow were about.
If you haven’t heard, DogShow are an incredible live act featuring a pair of musicians in disturbingly realistic anthropomorphic dog costumes playing hardcore dance music from a mobile cart sound system. It rolls around, people dance around it in a natural circle, and it creates an incredible in-the-round atmosphere of energy, fun, and frolics. This wonderful silliness would continue through the weekend.
Waking up Friday morning, my priority was already decided. Wokerati Party had been canvassing the previous night, gathering votes for an election between Disinform UK and their own electoral wing—a great sell for a gig if I’ve ever seen one.
While I must say I didn’t love all their tracks as much as the eponymous one, the party was as fun as they’d promised. Caricatures of Nigel Farage and Elon Musk, giant papier-mâché heads, tug of war, flying footballs—all the fun of the fair. The 12pm opening slot is a difficult one to fill, and Wokerati Party absolutely smashed it at Convoy Cabaret.
Following this chaotic entry into the world of the waking, Bearded saw fit to let me relax a bit. While the upbeat reggae fusion of Dakka Skanks isn’t the most chilled-out music—and the dust from the moshpit proved it, enough that I covered my face—it was soothing to the soul compared to the wilder punk on offer.
Dreadzone followed, shaking down the main stage with top-notch vibrations. I don’t know quite how Bearded set up the sound system at Pallet this year, but the old boys absolutely used it to the max. The sound was joyously earthshaking.
One of the coolest things about Bearded Theory is the way half the stages are outsourced to other, smaller events. From the wide flatlands of the East comes the Maui tent—all bright colours and theatrical staging. Brought by the festival of the same name, its focus on high-energy, dancy music and indulgent carnival luxury is a delectable treat.
The first band I saw there really set the tone. Including two of Maui Festival’s key organisers, The Mighty Flux might well be this season’s most improved band (or it might just be the first time I’ve seen them when they’re not exhausted and distracted running a festival). Offering a whole new album’s worth of spacey, bouncy hilarity, frontman Silas’ energy and charisma is near unmatched—and the line “oh shit, oh shit, I’ve lost me fucking tractor” may be the most Suffolk thing I’ve ever heard.
Other highlights from the Maui stage include Monkeyfist (an ultra-high-energy live ska and DnB fusion act, who I at the time proclaimed was the best band in the world, then proceeded to follow and fanboy over), Aartwork (live DnB meets Celtic folk—try it, I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like it), Thy Last Drop (gothic polka punk, dancy as fuck), and the Junkoactive Wasteman and the Tin Can Twins.
Now, explaining what Junkoactive and pals do in words would vastly undersell the experience, so I’m just going to refer you to my video review of Maui Festival 2024, where they feature as part of the lineup. I think it captures the joy of one of their shows perfectly. Think hardtek remixes and various bean-based competitions.
Finally, I can’t help but mention Nogood Boyo. Placing them in a genre is difficult, but this folk fusion act may well be tapping directly into the soul of modern Wales. With their only gimmick being wearing traditional Welsh hats, this act fuses incredible traditional vocals and instrumentation with absolutely wild rock and roll energy—somehow producing dance music that’s genuinely better at the job than most actual dance music.
Their skills don’t stop there. As part of their show, they delivered a 2000s dance bangers megamix. The crowd was impressed by their female vocalist’s rendition of Dido’s part in “Stan,” but when she leapt into the verse a sort of wild awe impregnated the crowd. At a festival full of highlights, this unexpected joy was the highlight of highlights—possibly even a new favourite.
Far from being the only guest stage, the Maui Waui tent is in very good company. Hailing from the rolling wild hills of the West, Convoy Cabaret and Something Else are responsible for bringing the grassroots punk scene to Bearded Theory.
Two sides of the same coin, the venues deliver similar yet distinct takes on punk tradition—Convoy hosting the heavier, more aggressive acts; Something Else offering a more folky selection. Nonetheless, a more or less identical atmosphere pervaded both tents: inclusive, progressive, and rebellious—not sanitised, corporate diversity nonsense (although I did pick up on a tiny bit of conspiracy woo hanging around Convoy)
A key highlight from Convoy was Muddy Summers and the Dirty Field Whores—a band put together by Gail, one of the driving forces behind the Something Else tea tent. This illustrates the crossover perfectly: her heavy, catchy folk-punk, complete with strings, fit Convoy’s vibe perfectly.
Something Else, though, I think delivered my favourite acts of the weekend. The straight neo-folk of Brewer’s Daughter is a perennial favourite of mine, ever since I first heard Rhi’s unique voice in the foggy mists of Equinox 2023. Getting to actually spend time hanging out with her was another highlight. Top tip, everyone: if you like an artist with fewer than, say, 30,000 fans—please tell them. People really appreciate hearing that their art has moved someone, and believe it or not, musicians—even those who play festival stages—are people too.
The other highlight from the tea tent was also a bunch of people I consider friends. Nasty Fishmonger closed my weekend out, and by God, I don’t think I know a more underappreciated band. They were pleased with the hundred or so fans and friends who attended their gig—and yes, the atmosphere was electric—but I think these UK folk punk heroes deserve so much more. Technically fantastic, brilliant on-stage performers, and heavier than you’d expect, over the years the band has set aside some of their more explicit nautical theming and become champions of what some would call leftwing politics—but sensible people just call human decency. Ripping into the cuts, evil, and maliciousness of the Tories and Blue Labour, I have never felt more politically at home than when screaming along at the front of a Fishmonger show.
While I can’t deny that most of my highlights from Bearded 2025 came from the allied festivals’ venues—not the event itself—the centrally run bigger venues did strike a few hits.
In the Woodland, the Popes of Chillitown demonstrated why they’re the masters of UK ska-punk. Their extended live version of “Wisdom Teeth” marked my single most joyous moment of the festival. I don’t know why that song does what it does to my brain, but despite being a certified Sunday zombie at that point, I was up and dancing.
The Woodland was a fantastic venue in general, and I see why Beans on Toast agreed to take it over on Sunday. With beautiful bunting fluttering in the breeze and towering oaks guarding the sky, it was a natural home for his style of rootsy, earthy folk.
While the bigger stages had their moments—Nova Twins, Zion Train, and even the most spoken-about man at the festival, Iggy Pop—this year I truly was a tiny tent connoisseur. The collaborator venues, all three of them, truly keep Bearded connected to the real grassroots music scene.
The peak of this grassroots joy came when I spotted performer and noted man-about-scene Sam Tucker watching a young woman perform at the Buskers Stage. Despite being only 19 years old, Sariah Carter is already a fantastic performer. Her originals and creative covers were a much-needed and wonderful break from the endless bands, all of which demanded I get up and dance!
Logistically, Bearded Theory is pretty much perfect. Its well-organised, central layout, spread out across a mostly flat site, means even the furthest campsite is only a short walk away. You think about going somewhere, and before you know it, you’re there. Multiple routes in and out of every area mean there are never crushes, and for anyone used to the chaos of Download or Reading, it’s a breath of fresh air. Even well-organised festivals could take notes.
Toilets, also, were absolutely perfect. With a combination of portaloos and composters, I literally never found myself waiting more than a minute, and I never saw so much as a dirty one—let alone one that had degenerated into an unusable mess of the sort which dominates so many events.
I feel like this might come at a cost, though. Almost everything in the field is expensive. Food and drink are the main culprits here, with even a simple meal setting you back an eye-watering £13, while pints push £7—an unholy number previously only seen in the most yuppy of London boroughs. I get that this isn’t just Bearded—it’s how the 2020s economy just works—but still, it’s sad to have to quell pangs of hunger by thinking of my bank balance rather than buying food.
Visually, the site was a mixed bag. Decorative flags and festoons brightened most areas outside the woodland, and there were some great pieces of art dotted about. But much of the site still felt a little plain, especially compared to smaller events like Maui. The standout pieces, like the Big Ed DJ Booth, were striking, but the overall aesthetic felt patchy. There’s plenty of room for more creativity here, and I’d love to see a bigger, better-resourced art team bring more of that energy.
Despite these minor complaints, Bearded Theory has firmly cemented itself as one of my favourite festivals. It sits comfortably in the medium-to-large category, with somewhere between ten and twenty thousand attendees, and yet it still manages to feel calm, safe, and welcoming. The crowd, largely older and alternative, is one of the most chilled and open I’ve encountered—friendly to a fault, broadly both sane and interesting.
What really makes Bearded special, though, is how it uses its collaborators. By giving stages like Maui, Convoy, and Something Else the space to do what they do best, Bearded pulls together an absolutely top-tier undercard. These crews bring some of the best music in the world to the table, and the festival puts it right in front of people who might never have stumbled across it otherwise.
I love how the event lets its allies work to their true strength, to use their connections to get a jaw-dropping undercard: this is what small festivals do best. In my opinion, Maui, Convoy, and Something Else are home to some of the best music in the world, and they focus hard on it. By giving punters the chance to experience what these events have to offer without having to already be in the loop, Bearded Theory is doing them a massive service.