In Cider shouldn’t work. It’s a festival in February, in a run-down Pontins, in Weston-super-Mare. The setting is drab, the weather is miserable, and everything about it should drain the joy from the experience. But somehow, it doesn’t. Despite all logic, In Cider works. And maybe, just maybe, it’s unlikely setting is part of the reason why.
When I arrived, parking up in a wet rectangle of tarmac, I wasn’t so sure it would. I hadn’t spotted any familiar faces from past Fuelled by Cider events, and the drizzle wasn’t doing much for my mood. But In Cider isn’t about the setting. It’s about the people.
This festival attracts a crowd unlike any other: mostly older punks, with a smattering of younger faces, but all of them—without exception—interesting, sparky, creative, and probably neurodivergent. It’s the kind of festival where you can talk to anyone, and they’ll have a story, a talent, or at least a ridiculous hat. There’s a deep sense of community and connection, a shared love for independent music and an attitude that makes the bleak surroundings feel irrelevant.
That crowd makes the festival work, but the lineup doesn’t hurt either. Music is set in a cavernous, almost academy-sized hall, too big for the event really, but a brilliant viewing space. No crush at the front, plenty of room to breathe, perfect for people who love live music but don’t always love being pressed into a crowd. Indeed, for those with accessibility needs that limit their ability to attend a field festival, In Cider is a fantastic choice!
Pet Needs were the opening headliner, pounding their way through a set that sat somewhere between punk rock and hardcore. Heavy, urgent, but also catchy and accessible, their high-energy show was exactly the right tone for a Friday night festival crowd. Gritty, poetic lyrics cut through with occasional almost operatic vocal clarity, everything built on relentless drumming that hit like a pulse through the room. A strong start.
Saturday was always going to be a winner. Skinny Lister, already well-loved by Fuelled by Cider crowds, took their rightful place as headliners. It’s hard to go wrong with modern folk drinking songs when the audience is already primed, but Skinny Lister didn’t just play into that energy—they elevated it. Even the people lurking at the back were beaming by the end. They also brought out their father, Party George, a somewhat cultish figure, which made sense given In Cider’s slightly cult-like atmosphere.
Sunday brought a shift in tone, leaning into something more emotional. Nick Parker and the False Alarms closed out the festival, and while I’ll admit I’m not hugely familiar with his music, it was clear that much of the crowd was.
The room was electric with adoration—people sang along, swayed, and some even looked like they were fighting back tears. It was one of those sets that felt deeply personal for the audience, a shared experience that bordered on overwhelming. For me, it was good—solid songwriting, heartfelt delivery—but I suspect it’s one of those performances that hits harder when you already know the words. Still, it worked. It felt like the right way to end things: intimate, emotional, and a little bit cathartic.
That’s the three official headliners covered, but in truth, In Cider had four. Dutty Moonshine Big Band played first on Saturday, which was both a stroke of genius and a bit of a problem. The set was electric, essentially a headline-level performance. The downside? It made everything that followed feel like it had a tough act to follow.
That said, Saturday was packed with highlights. Fuelled by Cider has a way of building up their regulars—rather than rotating out smaller acts each year, they trust their crowd to latch onto bands and build a following over time. It works and Bridget is a perfect example. A traditional rock band setup, but one that leans heavily on the sheer charisma of its leader. Bluesy, grimey, confident – Bridget is a natural showperson.
Battery Acid, another FBC regular, takes a completely different approach. Gothic, industrial, and heavy, the band somehow weaves in an almost folksy undertone, with siren-like vocals and delicate melodies that mesmerise. But just as you’re lulled by the beauty, their raw punk edge cuts through, keeping them grounded and steering clear of metal’s more over-the-top theatrics. It’s a balance they strike perfectly.
Other Saturday highlights included the festival’s own hosts the Skimmity Hitchers, always the kings of modern Scrumpy and Weston, and Yorkshire ska-punk legends Random Hand, a band so powerful you’d never guess they only have one trombone. The Whipjacks, a bluegrass-inspired folk act, also put in a strong set—though they had the misfortune of following Dutty Moonshine, which meant some of the audience was still recovering.
And here’s where In Cider showed a minor flaw: the balance of the lineup. Saturday was almost too good. The best acts were crammed into one day, leaving Friday and Sunday feeling a little empty in comparison. They weren’t bad—far from it. Friday’s opener, Irie Fire, was a solid surprise. A “reggae” band in name but one that drifted far into psychedelic rock in a way that made them far more interesting than expected. The SneakEazies, Bristol-based ska, were a lot of fun. The Captains Beard were funny. Split Dogs delivered a punky rock ‘n’ roll set that stuck in my mind. But the energy and sheer brilliance of Saturday, none of them quite matched .
It’s not a huge complaint, and I know doing so would involve massive compromises—but if In Cider could have rebalanced its days, it would have felt like a stronger festival overall. The single-stage format played into this problem, too. Normally, I love a one-stage festival—no clashes, no stress—but here, I found myself wanting an alternative, somewhere else to go when I wasn’t fully vibing with whoever was on.
The biggest actual complaint? The food. In Cider is half-board, meaning breakfast and dinner are included. Sounds great in theory, but in practice, it’s classic Pontins—think school dinners, but somehow more depressing, all cardboard cake and rock hard yet rubbery chicken.
But despite the questionable quality it was the timings which were the real issue. Breakfast was from 8-10 AM, which felt like a cruel joke for a festival crowd that had been drinking until the early hours. At that time in the morning, most of us were either still in bed or just about peeling ourselves out of a thankfully warm chalet shower. I mostly made it work, making it to approx 60% of meals, and found edible things most of the time, but really think a later breakfast slot is a requirement, even if it’s just toast.
Despite all this, though, In Cider somehow managed to maintain a strong festival spirit and proved that a festival isn’t about the location—it’s about the people, the music, and the moments that make it magic. The affordability of a February Pontins allows this festival to exist, providing a space for independent music and niche communities to thrive.
Nowhere was this clearer than during the repeated appearances of Nigel Clattsworthy, better known as F*ck Me it’s Clatters. A short, bald, and often drunk Cornishman, Clatters somehow pulled together a group of singer-songwriters—including the irrepressible James Harriman, Chiman 101, the omni-present Sam Tucker? and In Cider’s excellent compère, Tabitha Wilde—into three different spontaneous gigs. Two of them were outdoors, in a car park or outside a freezing Pontins chalet, but somehow, for those moments, it felt like we were in a festival field, not a holiday camp. The bass of an imagined second stage rumbled in the distance. The air was thick with festival love.
A final unexpected joy: the Bluecoats. Pontins’ entertainment team, much younger than I expected, absolutely charming, and working their arses off to make the holiday camp activities genuinely fun. Higher or Lower is still a terrible game when played with a crowd of dozens, and their 2007 screen technology was about as inspiring as that of a bowling alley, but they did their best. And somehow, that was enough.
This was the first Fuelled by Cider event I’ve been to that wasn’t perfect. The weird balance of the lineup, the food, and the slightly strange venue did make an impact. And in all honesty, compared to Outcider or Cursus, In Cider is a weaker festival. But then, it’s held in February. Try putting Outcider or Cursus on in February, and half the audience would die of exposure.
For those of us who shut down over winter, who stop seeing live music, stop seeing festival friends, stop feeling like ourselves—it offers something invaluable. In Cider keeps that part of us alive, even in the deepest, darkest month of the year. And for that, I’m grateful.
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