MantonFest Magic, Again

With the danceable penultimate act attracting a packed crowd, I observed a young teenager, who, on spotting a disregarded beer bottle, picked it up and disposed of it properly. I’m at Mantonfest, the gem on Marlborough’s annual event calendar. I’m not surprised, having been a few times now, it has always been this pleasant and respectable; this year I reasoned why….

Kids these days, huh? Reacting appropriately, averting a potential trip hazard, I ask you?! Elsewhere, a younger girl is on her dad’s shoulders, pumping her arms in the air while the Queen tribute reenacts classics way beyond her years, and her dad bounces underneath; it’ll be one of countless priceless family memories to savour here today, just like Heidi of Barrelhouse giving out inflatable guitars, mics and more randomly, crocodiles!

For at Mantonfest’s very opening, parents are driven to joyful tears, as thirteen year-old Megan Mills from St John’s School swaps guitar for keys and confidently delivers an outstanding if short set, filled equally with talent and expression.

If, in past years I’ve pondered the wide age demographic at Mantonfest, Mills, the aspiring health and safety officer, the girl piggybacking her dad, the toddler clutching his inflatable croc, are examples as to why. It’s the festival’s fifteenth birthday, families have grown up with this, ergo, Mantonfest is an institution, they return habitually and hold it in such high esteem, even at teenage they respect this congenial ethos. It creates a matchless experience to justify me hailing Mantonfest as the friendliest festival you’re ever likely to attend.

It’s tradition which warrants the return of favoured acts, such as Madness-Bad Manners and overall Two-Tone act, Badness, back by popular demand. They blew the roof off last year, although they mimicked their show, they came up shining, and skanking again.

Similarly, the model set from Barrelhouse will never go grey. They are to Mantonfest what R2D2 is to Star Wars, appearing time over and never failing to delight with their perfectly pumped hoedown of vintage blues. To see Barrelhouse live is cake, to see them at MantonFest is the icing on that cake. Yep, there’s many repeating features at Mantonfests, but if it’s not broken ….

I’m standing with Chippenham’s wonderful folk singer-songwriter Meg, complimenting Mills for a likeness to her own expressive vocal range. Meg’s on next, which shouldn’t really be as the section is supposed to showcase talent from the town’s comprehensive, but as one band cancelled I was called for a suggestion and couldn’t imagine anyone more apt and deserved. At 17 now Meg has developed a name for herself, hard working her idiosyncratic style to play Chippenham’s Pride, Folk Festival and expanding to Minety and Trowbridge’s Pump. On her first of three gigs this weekend, she excitedly tells me how it went supporting Jools Holland. Such are local circuit barriers though, Meg’s not so widely known here, so even a short set is good to help her to venture eastwards, and they sure made her welcome.

Sublimely delivering three tunes of her own wares, Meg set the bar high for Rory & Tom, who followed by providing popular covers in a friendly and lively fashion. Elton-like pianist Sammy Till-Vattier polished off the youth section. Saw him last year, he’s the upcoming name to watch on the Marlborough circuit. His poignant crafted originals are emotionally poured out, he literally sweats solo talent, as his final piece verged on Serge Gainsbourg level, and in his language too; je l’ai aimé!

This opening section to Mantonfest debuted last year shouldn’t be viewed as a filler or talent contest, rather a taster of what’s to come for the family event.

Just like other neighbouring towns, Marlborough youths show dedication and talent. It fills one with confidence that music is safe in Gen Z hands, but more importantly is Mantonfest’s drive to showcase them. There’s no bolt-on gazebo miles away from the event’s main brace, they’re on the same stage which Toyah once graced.

There’s a part of me, though, which wishes the hordes who came for the finale crowd-pleasing tribute acts could’ve supported the local talent at the start, but I know, cookie crumbles this way.

Tributes were the order of the evening, but nestled between the St John’s section and them, the tradition of family continues. Josie Mackenzie is no stranger here, she pulled a blinder last year guest singing with The James Oliver Band. Taking front and centre this time with swing-style rockabilly-blues her new band the Radiotones wonderfully reintroduced fifties-early sixties classics in an Etta James fashion. Particularly stand-out was Ray Charles’, Hallelujah, I Love Her So. 

Then, Ol’ Man Witcomb And The Bergamots; wow! In different guises, especially one called Skedaddle, Witcomb family members have regularly played the festival as they live in the village, albeit a slot so early I missed them before. Took this with a pinch of salt, then, assuming this being a village custom, I wasn’t expecting  greatness; my biggest surprise this year. 

The old man referenced in the name is Chris Witcomb, bassist, wife Jane sings, boy, does Jane sing, and three sons back them on lead acoustic and electric guitars, and drums, like a Manton Carter Family!

If this ensemble was “formed for a bit of fun” as stated I’m truly in awe; they were as uniformed as any professional classic rock band, and handled some unusual and technically challenging covers, particularly poignant was Genesis’ Land of Confusion. 

Aside from their model set they even carried onstage banter with ease, apologising for performing Making Plans for Nigel for its possible election connotations! It was a gorgeous performance they really should take on the road, sitting somewhere between The Pretenders and Fleetwood Mac.

Between acts Fruci Fit Personal Training of Marlborough and Devizes gave a loud and proud exercise class, then, The Fab Four took the stage. Working through the Beatles discography with lighthearted panache, they’re another back by popular demand, and are a thoroughly entertaining tribute. Barrelhouse followed as evening set in, enough said. Coupled with the perfect weather, it was looking to be a most memorable Mantonfest.

A further three tributes to take us to the cumulation. Firstly, Forever Elton was enjoyable if technically mediocre. Badness did it again, stealing the show with upbeat Two-Tone re-enactments in newspaper suits but idiosyncratically making tributes stand-alone. The northern working-class banter is at invaluable comical proportions, but their musical proficiency too makes it a class homage. It’s a wonder how Queen tribute The Bohemians will top it, but surprisingly, according to my love of ska, and the fact Queen tributes are two to a penny, I think they did.

Tricky to perfect but a common choice to attribute, Queen is a national pride. To do this badly would be an epic fail. I’ve always thought this, ending up surprised with the results of previous Queen tributes I’ve bore witness to, but The Bohemians were undoubtedly the best. It was a show stopping finale, a sublime imitation of probably the finest rock band ever, if not, certainly the most popular. Throughout their performance I was equally held in awe at the precision and attention to detail, and simply enjoying the moment, as those rock classics were delivered with such skill and gusto.

Yet it is not only the excellence of all the acts which makes Mantonfest Mantonfest, rather the lesser ingredients, the beautiful setting, the simplicity of the arrangement and its dedication to hold dear its self-made traditions. But most importantly, and likely the sum of all other parts, it’s this trouble-free tenant akin to a Caribbean holiday (with rum punch,) which has seen a generation grow and be proud and respectable of this wonderful annual occasion. 

For me, it’s equally about Mills, Sammy et al, as it is for a tribute act knocking it out of Treacle Brolly, but I feel it is too for the many here who enjoy this gem year after year. Another Mantonfest ticked off, another astounding and memorable year, it never fails to impress me. 

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