Welcome to the story of the Secret Garden Party Roots, written as seen first-hand in the summer of 2024.
Described as a “festival like no other” and “a picnic with raves”, the Garden Party had an atmosphere as sweet as candyfloss. Wherever one wandered, you could find friendly people scattered around in their little penguin huddles having the best time.
This year, running as a smaller event, supposedly without headliners (Ren has a million YouTube subscribers), I was very excited to see SGP in its purest form. Each night I spent I was enchanted by the venue, which is simple to get about and offers extraordinary entertainment.
While the Secret Garden Party is “not a music festival”, its music lineup certainly delivered like one. Not-a-headliner Ren delivered two sets—his first in five years, split down the middle by SGP’s famous spectacular. The first of these sets started with his breakout hit, Hi Ren, which he performed with great theatrical aplomb sitting in a wheelchair wearing a hospital gown. Turning left and right as good and evil Ren spoke, the performer completely captivated the crowd from this point on. Bringing on a bevy of guest stars, including a fiddle section and singer Chinchilla who performed a new track, Asylum, the first Ren set was truly enchanting and encapsulating.
After it came to an end, the crowds began to stream away from Where the Wild Things Are towards the location of the old main stage, now surrounded by a sunflower field. Chaotic instructions to sit down were delivered—whether they actually came from production is up in the air—and the show started. First, a banner dropped with the word “damnnation”—no doubt a play on LiveNation—and then the drones took to the sky.
Now, I’ve never been to a good drone show before. All previous attempts I’ve seen have been fairly unimpressive. This, on the other hand, was jaw-dropping. There must have been a thousand of them, and while some of the imagery was a bit loading screen-esque, seeing it written giant in the night sky was absolutely amazing.
Weirdly, the best part wasn’t all the fancy moving graphics, but instead watching them all form up in a massive column in the background to land, seeing their little ember-like watchlights. I’d love to have a beer with the folks behind that display—it was shiningly lit.
After the drones came the fireworks, a righteous wall of celebratory explosions. Closely packed, dense, and started with rockets launched from the crowd (perhaps why production was trying to get us to sit down) the display exceeded any New Year’s Eve or Bonfire Night celebration, at least from my brilliant vantage point near the front.
Once the final drone had landed and the final rocket had burst, it was time to return to Where the Wild Things Are for the second half of Ren’s great return show. Starting with Money Game, this portion of the show had a more aggressive hip hop feel, rather than the more folky, thematic first half. Quickly turning into a dance party, Ren truly cast a spell on his audience. And that brings me onto his audience—the Renegades.
Now, there is a certain type of act you might not want to book for your festival because, quite simply, their audience is the wrong kind of mental. Seeing the Renegades online, I was worried this might be the case, but in reality, at SGP, bar a few arguments over views, they all turned out to be mostly fine. Maybe the idea of camping in a field self-selected out the least suitable for a festival by itself, but even so, well done Renegades, you all handled yourselves much better than me this weekend.
Speaking of, Beans on Toast successfully brought me to tears with a song this weekend. Beans on bloody Toast. Jay, that is emphatically not your job, but I’m not complaining. Your set was great, sorry I had a full-on mental breakdown at the front of it. If you haven’t listened to Beans on Toast, he writes fun little folk songs and is at the same time the beating heart of the UK festival scene. It’s sometimes hard to think of him as an actual human and not a magical field spirit.
A couple of other bands impressed me too—pretty much all in the Living Room, a fantastic venue filled with old pleather sofas and with plywood wallpaper boards set up all around, really making the space feel loungy. The first thing I saw in there was the Hootini Brass Band, who I caught just before Ren. Bouncy and fun, these guys were a great welcome to the festival for me.
On Sunday, the gents from the Madalitso Band brought their calming and yet energetic Malawian folk, which was an absolute blast. Airy, mellow, and just so sweet and lovely, this was exactly what I needed being a very stressed little bunny.
Following right on, I saw Tommy Khosla and Jawari. Playing South Indian folk fusion music, this band was another that fit my needs exactly.After them, I returned the tiny distance over to Where the Wild Things Are, typically the stage SGP uses for small independent bands, which this year was doing a decent job serving essentially as a main stage. This wasn’t prompted by anything in particular, but when I got there, my attention was caught by Nordestea Frieze—they were a couple of silly Americans with a bassist they found in Manchester, and they played some sort of dubby hyperpoppy music I could not quite identify at the time.
Back in the Living Room, I then caught Sorrel Nation. Invited to this band by a friend I’d made at Nozstock, I was pleased to find another incredibly soothing act, this time featuring an accordion taking more influence from the Western folk traditions.
Finally regaining the energy to get out of the comfortable armchair I had found myself in at the Living Room, I made my way to the far side of the festival. Now, SGP is essentially split in twain, with a single cut-through for people to pass, and each of these halves of the festival had a different feel. While the half with Where the Wild Things Are was soothing and relaxing, the far half—now that, as they say, was a serious party.
Silly and fun, I partied in a tent which didn’t exist, and in another one which I had to access via a slide. Contrary to my feelings about 2022, the music was incredibly varied, with someone even playing 50s and 60s bangers on records, and while at some points the festival felt a little empty, all the dancefloors were always bustling.
Bringing public camping in closer so that people’s tents made up a little city, bounded by rows of traders and venues, was also an excellent decision—it almost reminded me of the traditional Burning Man layout.
While none of our team took a dip in the lake, many gardeners greatly appreciated the opportunity to cool off from the blazing sun in its cool waters. The Woodland Stage, home to Chai Wallahs, catering to those with wild tastes for dancing and mayhem, was also popular for this reason, with the boughs of the trees offering plenty of protection from the UV spectrum.
Some people did not enjoy the reduced scale, and consequently lower intensity, of art and performances, with even members of our team being ambivalent about it. I actually agreed with those who thought this tradeoff was well worthwhile however-This year the attendees at the Garden Party were so well-dressed themselves that they almost made up for the lack of additional decoration, and the smaller event led to a calmer, friendlier atmosphere than I’ve experienced in the past.
Before getting to the Secret Garden Party: Roots, I was a human run raw. Various things in my life being difficult, plans going wrong, and poor organisation on my part meant I only got to the festival very late and was in a complete state when I did.
Thank whatever powers that be that I had arrived at SGP. This festival, this year, was deeply calming, restorative, and wonderful. While I still struggled with my stress levels while on site, just being there helped me recover myself. The wonderful environment, the lovely people—every second I spent on site was like a balm for my poor nerves, and by the time I left, I was feeling almost myself again.
This makes me quite sad that this is the last year it’s being held in this format. I loved SGP this year, and that’s coming in sceptical, having only attended in 2022. I feel like I now understand why people talk about the early years of the festival with such awe.
I also really doubt it made any money. I didn’t see it full, ever, and there was so much production. Lots of acts. Thousands of crew. Loads of build—maybe too much for an event of this size. It felt more like a statement party, a private party than a for-profit festival. It was truly impressive, and I’m very glad I got to attend, but I can’t believe whatever model Roots is built on is sustainable.
If it is, fuck yes! That’s amazing! But given they have said it’s the last year of the conventional Secret Garden Party, I think they just wanted to have a fun blowout, and damn making a loss.
Well if so, thank you. The Secret Garden Party Roots was a tour de force, a truly brilliant medium-sized festival, an event where the old masters had truly shaken off the rust and were showing the world how parties should be done. Even the toilets were great!
It’s just a real pity it isn’t happening in this format again. Why are all the best festivals one-off affairs? While I do trust the garden party team to do amazing things in the future supporting smaller events, it really feels they’ve stumbled onto something amazing again right here.