Yay! You read it right. After a two year break, CrownFest is back at the Crown in Bishop’s Cannings. So put a big tick onto the 4th July 2026 in your diary, and maybe jot down 1st November this year down too, because that’s when the first set of fifty early-bird tickets will go on sale, a snip at just twenty quid….
With an iffy weather forecast for July, one Saturday in 2023 I found myself waiting for bus 49 in Devizes, and met with a group of kindly but disorientated folk attempting to get to Bishop’s Cannings for the second Crownfest. I assured them I was heading there too, so all they needed to do was follow my lead.
As it was you couldn’t miss it; the bus stopped right outside. On the journey a number of people were wondering which stop to get off at and so I assured them too. It was at that point I addressed the entire bus, as everyone looked up for a party, “is anyone here not going to Crownfest?!” Seemed only the driver wasn’t, and probably would have if he wasn’t working!
That poor bus driver would’ve loved it, as it was a far better attendance than the inaugural one the previous year. Even torrential downpours didn’t stop the fun, as its fully deserved outstanding reputation had blossomed. It was a fantastic event, check my words on it HERE. Unfortunately due to a change of ownership Crownfest wouldn’t see its way to a third this sumner. But every cloud, literally, has a silver lining. Crownfest is back and recharging for 2026; Bishops Cannings has never had it so good!
Save the date and Stone Circle Music Events will save the day. With camping available, this is a golden nugget on this summer’s local festival hotlist. The only returning act will be Kinisha, the Tina Turner tribute act called (and undoubtedly is true) Simply The Best. Kinisha turned my head around about Tina Turner tributes; we don’t need another hero if we’ve got her headlining, oh, but we have…. lots of heroes.
Firstly, while we’re on tributes, this one is my recommendation; someone listens to me! It’s Ant Trouble, the Welsh Adam & The Ants tribute which I’ve been dying to get a gig locally since I witnessed their lively and precise volcanic eruption at Swindon’s Vic in February 2023. This is so good when some Facebook wombles prompted AI to write a piece on the real Adam Ant, it nicked my photo of Ant Trouble! I dunno, who do I sue for that, The Terminator?! Nevertheless, prepare for some ant music.
The remaining lineup consists of only the toppermost acts on Stone Circle’s books. If I say indie-pop darlings Talk in Code will be there, that’s surely enough to entice you. But there’s pioneers of ukular fusion with Mother Ukers Ukuele Band, The Tipsy Gypsies will enthrall with lively folk goodness, and it’ll get all Celtic when the sublime Publicans get on that stage. Five-piece Salisbury rock band Innovator will be there, alongside acoustic goodness from George Wilding and Lucas Hardy.
Fantastic lineup, wonderful pub with great tucker, camping, or with that trusty 49 bus running later now, you could potentially bus it there and back, provided the bus driver isn’t Tina Turner’s number one fan, feels an uncontrollable compulsion to dance like there’s no tomorrow, and shouts “end of the line!” What more do you want?!
Must confess it felt somewhat odd to return to The Crown in Bishops Cannings for my weekly ration of live music. The only pub in the village has been closed a short while, since verbal pitchforks and torches from a crotchety minority who wanted the tavern to be little more than a museum artefact drove the previous landlords out…..
Prior it was a bustling community hub run immaculately with gusto and enthusiasm, hosting a variety of events and raising funds for charities. Seemed crabby witches and even a lord of a manor were prepared to gang-up, lie to police, and misquote Devizine when we failed to appeal to their better nature. It backfired, they didn’t own one, but let’s not dwell.
New landlords are in, pleasant and keen to maintain the pub’s reputation amidst the prying Karens. Sarah, the new landlady praised her new chefs, and the pub hosts an open mic every first Thursday of the month, Tuesday evening quizzes, and intends to begin a men’s mental health group and possibly a football team.
Tonight, however, will be the new owners first live music night, and they’ve wisely hoisted in promoters Wiltshire Music Events to organise it. Though without much advertising unfortunately the crowd was slight. Never the simple accomplishment it may seem when established venues have the monopoly through a regularity of gigs, to sporadically host will require endless bashing about it on social media. It is, however, easier with the increased 49 bus service, that a night bus will drop into villages enroute, of which you should take note.
I’m in attendance not only to support and encourage the importance of entertainment in villages, save the thought of losing your local watering hole. Rather it is because Wiltshire Music Events is hosting two new acts on their roster, one who’ve yet to explore outside of their Salisbury circuit. A wise choice being the neighbouring church is a mini replica of the cathedral to make the bishop feel at home in the Cannings, or at least so the myth goes!
Firstly, in support, young singer-songwriter Rosie Jay, one I’ve been dying to meet and see live since fondly reviewing her first two singles. Rosie didn’t disappoint despite the pedestal I’ve put her on. Her self-penned songs are rippled with the poignancy of the classic template acoustic wordsmiths who made it big will follow; concentration on the hook, something even more essential with the attention span of the Tik-Tok generation.
Her voice is rich, affectionate, and she delivers songs with passion and blossoming stage presence. An interesting choice of covers from a young artist, often, she explained to the audience, inspired by their usage in films. Okay, Elvis’ Can’t Help Falling in Love is timeless romantic, and The Cranberries’ Zombie is most formulaic, but Dylan’s It Ain’t Me Babe, is a cynical rare choice to pull from her magician’s hat. Though it relates in theme to Rosie’s first song, I Don’t Give a Damn, and her general subjects. Rosie nailed them all, beautifully, with particular evocative expressions in the reclusive and heartfelt jaundiced emotions of Dylan, and likewise her own intelligent compositions.
Currently pursuing a Level 3 Diploma in Music at Wiltshire College and University Centre, Rosie told me of her work on local radio, and was enthusiastic about her forthcoming EP. Part of the growing Wiltshire Music Events family now, as Joylon Dixon has worked with her to produce it. And Joylon accompanies the next performer, the incredible Rachel Sinnetta.
Renowned for a two-year stint supporting Gerry & The Pacemakers, singing to Prince William and recording with Pete Townshend, Rachel intended to tour a “Wuthering Heights: The Music of Kate Bush,” project which unfortunately fell through.
Music teacher Rachel set to tour this tribute extensively throughout the UK; that’s what the blurb told me. All I know is Kate Bush is the vocal epitome of singularity, the individuality debatably overlooked in today’s pop industry, as the penchant to sound akin to Whitney Houston seems paramount.
Just like Dolly, Cher, Tina Turner, Stevie Nicks, Tom Jones, Alanis Morissette, even KT Tunstall et al, you need a seriously powerful vocal range to convincingly take on a Kate Bush cover. And Rachel did, sublimely delivering Running Up That Hill, and popular hits of all the aforementioned. Seemingly having her own deal with god, Rachel naturally reaches the notes with ease, her husky yet divine rock voice is the eloquence and faculty able to adapt to take those powerhouse ballads on with such precision and poignancy, particularly with the female giants. She even rinsed Arthea Franklin’s Natural Women, and left me tingling, Chaka Khan’s Ain’t Nobody too simply wowed. Proud Mary in the key of Tina Turner; who would dare attempt them in an intimate gig such as this?! Rachel Sinnetta made them look childsplay.
Sassy with Tom Jones’ Kiss, joyful with Erasure’s A Little Respect, covers came thick and fast, coupled with the secret legendary Jolyon Dixon without rehearsal was a match from heaven, and the whole shebang was utterly blissful; shame only us, a few regulars and their dogs were there to witness it. Such is the uphill struggle for new landlords to plant their establishment into a local music circuit, partially my reasoning for doing this blog.
So, take heed now, especially everyone in Pewsey; this wonderful formula, Rosie Jay followed by Rachel Sinnetta with Jolyon Dixon will be continued at the Royal Oak, in Pewsey, with a free gig from 8pm, next Saturday, the 19th October; they are in for a treat.
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Must confess, I’m envious of the good folk of Bishops Cannings, perched here on a bench in an idyllic beer garden with spring sunshine setting, and shadowed by the striking spire church, where tasty, generously portioned yet comparatively priced bar food is served to punters awaiting some live music arranged by Wiltshire Music Events….
Jazzy and Gary, landlords of The Crown at Bishops Cannings give me a warm welcome. Considering the contrast to our now bolted village pub, where staff would barely raise an eyebrow from gazing at Eastenders on the big screen to serve you; to debate whether our pub’s closure is a sad sign of the times, opens a Pandora’s box into what landlords did to prevent it.
Here at the Crown they’re catering for all, with smiles throughout. It’s a wonderful village hub; the kettle is on if you favour a cuppa, young children wander over with their dad from the campers in the adjacent field, the atmosphere is chilled, hospitable, and nothing seems problematic. Regulars join only a sprinkling of gig seekers in a modest heated marquee. I’m here primarily for Avebury phenomenon George Wilding, on shore leave from entertaining cruisers. Illingworth as headline is a bounteous bonus ball.
I’m fully aware, amidst many choicest options being Beltane, back in Devizes tonight is the night electric blues aficionados raise the roof of the Corn Exchange, but our best writers are on the case. Though he messaged me last Sunday, I missed the prodigal son of our live circuit’s unexpected return to the Southgate, so catching up with George was overdue.
A learned, matured version of his former self told me of his travels, the ins, outs, ups and downs of performing on cruise ships; he has flourished in skill without pretension, but with the same heart. In turn I explained my pride in not only featuring upcoming young acts, but youths like our Flo reporting on their own circuit. George smiled his approval, expressing how he was once one. And at the dawn of Devizine, when it would be a regular thing to publish reviews on that generation, musicians like Tamsin Quin, Jordan Whatley, Mike Barham, and many others, all blossomed into amazing acts, and George’s were among the best received.
I first met him at Saddleback’s Battle of the Bands in 2018, which he won, but insisted he’d only accept the prize of playing the festival if the others had a chance to too. It’s this gracious benignancy which he greeted me with, and which, coupled with exceptional talent for singing and guitar, always made George stand out. Unpretentious is his show still, nurtured talent, yet the same simplicity of man and guitar is gold. He needs no setlist, nothing is prearranged. He considers himself no better than his audience, and engages with them as if they are lifelong besties. What songs will he cover? It’s interactive, you decide, but whatever is chosen you know George will pull it off, charm and entertain the audience with equal gusto.
Optimistic of the weather, he kicks off with The Kinks’ in the Summertime, runs it into the Jam’s Town Called Malice, but is already asking for input. I sat closer, to take a snap or two, and he’s tongue-in-cheek pulled Madness’s Baggy Trousers out of nowhere! George will tackle anything, yes, he cooked a fine American Pie, awakened me to the greatness of The Fratellis’ Whistle For The Choir, and we were back onto the Kinks with a backstory of Lola. Yet, I’d not recommend anyone taking on Otis Redding, or Freddie, but he does, spins it with convincing originality, making it his own, and delivers with such proficient expression, its joy to absorb, and memorable of so many great occasions to see him perform again.
The clues were all there, but I’m not Poirot; now that I see them for the first time on the same bill it’s obvious, John, frontman of the Illingworth duo is George’s uncle. Though I cannot recall the first time I saw Illingworth play, through seeing them umpteen times since, it was much later than discovering George, and wasn’t until later on John told me who his nephew was. Family connection clicked into place, seemingly, because equal to George’s talent, I never tire of watching Illingworth perform.
John and the curiously talented Jolyn Dixon’s repertoire is more structured than George’s, all sing-along, taking in country rock classics and floating from prog-rock to new wave covers. Still they raise any roof with Pink Floyd, Beatles, to The Cure adaptations, nestle some fine originals, and come up for air with John Denver’s Country Roads. Their show is one to suddenly arise from your seat and dance, without consideration as to how they obtain such a sound with just the two of them, a few guitars and cajon; they do what would take a full band, and what every pub landlord hosting live music really wants, a highly entertained and satisfied crowd.
The memorable night settles in Bishops Cannings; I’m sorry if I promised to freewheel between gigs, but the rare combination of George and Illingworth, the wonderful pub and great atmosphere had me grounded there. It doesn’t matter if Wiltshire Music Events are presenting large scale events, such as last month’s Marley Experience tribute in Devizes, or simply a free pub gig, there’s a professionalism, in sound and talent-spotting, which will guarantee a good gig. The fact the big chief Eddie is keen to trek up to stage events here we should consider ourselves very lucky; maybe it’s the spire church of BC which makes this Salisbury bunch feel at home?!
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If last year I trundled off the 49 at Bishops Cannings in a blazing heatwave alone, this time things were different; the bus was heaving with revellers, mostly unprepared for the torrential rain forecast, enough to warrant me query out loud if anyone onboard wasn’t going to CrownFest, and if not, did they have a pac-a-mac I could borrow?!
Attendance figures made for a vast improvement to last year’s inaugural festival at this wonderful village watering hole, which although was a thoroughly smashing occasion, due to a date clash with Devizes carnival could have been better attended. In fact, the unavoidably unpredictable British summer time climate could possibly be my only whinge this time around, as the rationale maintained “might as well make the most of it,” rang through the beer garden of the Crown, and everyone, it seemed, had a fantastic time.
And to add importantly, downpours were sporadic and at better times the sun poked his head around the gloomy clouds to say hi. Dapper in country attire, Cap’n Rasty’s Skiffle City Rockerswere already underway, with highly entertaining skiffle variations of classic pop covers, a few traditional folk singalongs thrown in for authenticity. New to me this one, they were utterly proficient with an air of timeless cool.
Nonchalant was the vibe in general, though, in the face of adversity; a possible landslide to the next village, or trench-foot at the very least. Lesser in sidestalls, perhaps due to the forecast, the arrangement of tables and chairs which last year caused an elongated divide between the stage and bar had been realigned and by design everything was tickety-boo.
But it has to be awarded, the medal of honour for service and total dedication to the cause, to all the young staff at the Crown who worked tirelessly under mounting pressure to serve everyone their poison and tucker with a smile. Basically, gen z staff retained decorum, ironed every trivial issue, and restlessly served their elders, generation x, who generally fell drunkenly into marshland and partied like they were sixteen again and never saw Abba or Tina Turner!
And for want of a better nutshell there it is. Anyone there, lucky enough to have seen the originals of any of these triple billed tribute acts in their prime, would’ve been in the minority, for all intents and purposes, I couldn’t pick a more skilled one between them. This retrospective appeal is why tribute acts are a welcomed trend, and after every new one I witness I’m convinced of their worth and place in live entertainment that bit more.
If three succeeding tributes was a good move by music organiser Tunnel Rat Studio’s Eddie Prestidge, I call allowing all acts an extended ninety minute set a risk which also paid off. Band changes were fewer and swiftly operated; birthday boy Fantasy Radio DJ Marc Anthony was there anyway.
Personal favourite goes without saying, taking the finale, The Marley Experience was everything I could have wanted and more, truly a dedicated and precise homage to Bob Marley and the Wailers of the highest quality and sublimely executed entertainment. They marched through the classic discography, and saved time for a few lesser known tracks, like Soul Rebel. I know my reggae, and this was irie dread-I to the highest heights.
On the other hand, despite Abba not being my cuppa, I was converted by the Abba All Stars even in the most torrential section of the day; imagining how beguiling the Swedish innovators of pop would have been in their heyday was made easy with these confident young band looking and sounding every bit the part…Waterloo, or portaloo, it didn’t matter now, we were soaked to the skin, and we didn’t care, and this was mostly thankful to the Abba All Stars. Quote me on this at your own risk, as it’s something I’d never thought I’d say; “I loved this Abba tribute!”
Nestled between though was my most negative preconception, having seen in the past the kind of Tina Turner tribute to put you off of Tina Turner tributes for life, and forgoing the wealth and power of a voice like Tina’s is near impossible to effectively pull off, but Kinisha Morgan-Williams did, with bells on. The Tina Turner tribute known as Simply the Best was indeed as advertised. It was nothing short of phenomenally accurate, even on those soulful ballads, Kinisha absolutely rinsed it and wowed the crowd. Particularly memorable was Kinisha’s Nutbush duet with Eddy Armani; what a dynamic show blessed in realism and excitement.
But, simply the best part of CrownFest was this insatiably friendly festive vibe with an air of enthusiasm and unification from staff, volunteers, punters to performers there was the underlying notion this is the start of an annual landmark in local feelgood festivals in which the villagers welcome revellers and assign themselves to good times. After the success of this weekend, we hope CrownFest will continue; you should consider yourself extremely unfortunate if you miss next year’s.
The sum of all these parts meant CrownFest was nothing short of the kind of superb spirit drizzle couldn’t dampen. Though if locally sourced acts were shorter in billing, those Junkyard Dogs can bark up enough wattage for three bands, with their irresistible electric blues covers. Oh yes, the Dogs did their thing and rocked the show prior to this plethora of tributes and is always an unmissable hoedown. Leon Daye Band unfortunately I arrived too late for, could still taste the toothpaste, soz.
Time to summarise, if I have to accept it’s all over for another year. On our doorstep, a small pub-run festival only in its second year which packs far more punch than this definition, and far beyond the average of its kind. We could debate musically it’s geared towards generation x, against the notion the eighties produced timeless acts legendarily to all, but as, proudly, I’m of that era, CrownFest 2023 was an awesome all-rounder, with or without an umbrella.
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It’s time to be thinking about that nearby little village with a big punch and a spire. CrownFest at The Crown in Bishops Cannings is occurring next weekend, Saturday 8th July, and if last year’s inaugural festival is anything to go by you’re in for a treat…..
Because the whole term “festival” has become somewhat ambiguous during these trending times, some pubs seem to take the wonky assumption that you can grab a man with a guitar off the street, put him in a marquee, flog undercooked hotdogs and call it a festival! Crownfest, you should note now, does it proper and gurt lush, and last year was hard to imagine it was their first time. It was professionally put together and catered for all; real stage, side stalls, children’s entertainment and rides and plenty of food options. And most importantly of all, it was simply a stupendously friendly and buzzing event.
There was never a point where something was a hassle, like free car-parking, camping is reduced to £15 per (6m x 4m) pitch this year, pets are welcome, toilets and showers are available and it was exceptionally well presented with friendly but effective security; personally I couldn’t fault it other than the fact I fell off the bus too late to catch Pete Lamb’s Heartbeats, as they were running ahead of schedule! What festival have you ever been to which runs on time, let alone ahead of schedule?! It must say something about the dedication gone into CrowFest numero uno, and it showed.
Being punctual isn’t something I’d usually need to enforce at any festie, but perhaps here, as here is the lineup and (apparent) times! Headline amidst a further couple of tributes, from 9:30 till the close, Bob Marley & The Wailers tribute The Marley Experience is surely something you’d be looking forward to? Only ever witnessing one Marley tribute before called Legends, I have to say that one will be a hard act to follow, but in checking out The Marley Experience online, take it from a reggae aficionado himself, these guys sound equally “top ranking.”
If May brought us the terrible news of the queen of rock ‘n’ roll’s passing, Tina Turner was perhaps the most misunderstood icon of the eighties. The controversial Ike & Tina Turner Revue of the seventies which put her in the spotlight, equally was her trauma. Unlike Marley tributes, Tina Turner ones are plentiful, and this could go either way. Being honest, with tribute acts I find there’s no inbetween, they’re either astoundingly great, and pay a homage to the act they’re attributing, or are a shocking embarrassment! Thing you need to do when deciding on a tribute act is research, and I assume Eddie music coordinator has done his homework, as Kinisha Morgan-Williams, the Tina Turner tribute act booked, sounds “simply the best” on this here YouTube vid, and she is on at 7:45.
Prior to the private dancer, there’s an Abba tribute, Abba Allstars from 6pm. Again, I find myself contemplating my “no in between” theory of tribute acts, and the Chiquitita video shows, even for someone like me who’s not the biggest Abba fan, these Allstars are proficient and sound sublime….they might make an Abba fan out of me yet!
Though I’m a 100% fan of those Junkyard Dogs, on at 4:15pm; a local band of the fiery blues variety and never to be missed. Cap’n Rasty’s Skiffle City Rockers, on at 2:30, is a new one on me, but the name alone is enough to entice. Then, along with Fantasy DJ Marc Anthony, and Guinness Book of Records holder for freestyle football skills Dan Magness, who did keep-me-ups for twenty-four hours, and causing me to wonder how he went to the loo during it, (I will ask him and report back) we also have Gloucester’s fantastic and energetic alt-rock collective, the Leon Daye Band, who kick off proceedings at 1pm.
With all that in mind, I suggest you head on down to the Crown at Bishops Canning and grab a ticket, or online here, but if you go in person no chatting up the infamous gorilla statue, though; I saw her first!
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Sitting by a controversially purple outside bar, contemplating my debatable definition of the term “festival,” yesterday in Bishop’s Cannings, while Freddie Mercury sauntered past and the sun toasted me another shade closer to “calypso berry” on the Dulux colour chart… this isn’t your average day in this sleepy Devizes-hugging parish, it’s the meticulously planned and aptly named “CrownFest,” at their only central village pub, The Crown.….
Because while grateful for the pub trend of sticking a man with a guitar under a gazebo and hoisting in a hotdog van, it hardly constituents a “festival.” Even the Easter musical event at The Crown received a higher-scoring mark than that, and it wasn’t labelled a festival; just a free social gathering. This time around though, attendee’s entrance fee was exhausted with a proper stage of quality sound and pyrotechnics, and the semi-permanent marquee where performers were shoved into a corner of last time, this time was filled with a whopping selection of affordable homemade pasties and sausage rolls; that’s me set in for the day!
Okay, so here’s my vague scoring system; to me “festival” must include multiple happenings; variety, if you will. If you’ve one act, or even one and a support, it’s a concert. If you’ve one food choice, it’s a beer garden barbecue, and if you’ve one barrel of flat, warm ale, well, you’re really asking for it!
I’m pleased to announce, with a great line-up, two bars plus the pub operating as usual, two barbecues, aforementioned pasties, sweeties and doughnuts stall, a kiddies fairground ride, and Devizes’ Italian Job airstream caravan, who I strongly suspect are following me around the local festival circuit(!) for an inaugural village festival, CrownFest ticked all my boxes and went way beyond expectations.
With a Queen tribute headlining, for example, a local spray-paint artist laboured the entire day, reconstructing a colossal portrait of Freddie Mercury, to be auctioned for charity. Just one of many unique elements which drove this mini-festival to punch above its weight, and a marvellous time was had by all. In a nutshell, it was a generous slice of fantastic.
On paint, a few nick-picking peevish keyboard warriors would’ve had you believe the Crown’s intentions of bringing a community together for a party was counterproductive, highly illegal and a nuisance to the tranquillity of life in Bishop’s Cannings, should you follow pitiful Facebook rants. Desperate for an angle, it backfired bizarrely, through petty complaining that the outside bar was painted purple! But if shock, horror meanderings divided a community online, there was no sign of it in the actual.
Despite the town carnival clashing, the event was moderately attended. The damning report for said pessimists is only a handful arrived from town, rather the bulk was made up of villagers, overjoyed entertainment of this calibre had parachuted into their village. Still though, to those unconvinced I’d say, I accept your concerns and respect your desire for tranquillity, but give and take in this world, and for just one night a year, a little compromise wouldn’t surely go amiss? While a significant event for a small village, noise levels were controlled and full-proof yet friendly security kept the peace; it hardly reached the intensity of living in Pilton.
The alternative is the reality of many a village pub, and excuse me if I’m wrong on this, but I also believe the Crown was suffering from the damning predicament prior to new tenants, that they fail to be a hub for villages, resulting in a dull life for its inhabitants. Providing such a service is essential for a demographic, as if house prices aren’t bad enough to drive the young away. Village pubs should take heed of the remarkable turnaround of the Crown at Bishop’s Cannings, owners employing local youths on a grander scale, building bridges between folk and providing entertainment to an otherwise archetypal sleepy community. Jazzy and Gary, you should be very proud of your achievement, and CrownFest was surely symbolic of the respect you’ve earned since taking the tavern on.
Eddie of Tunnel Rat Studios appears to have made coordinating the musical element his baby, the icing on the Crown’s cake. Though, running ahead of schedule, my bus journey ETA fell short of catching Pete Lamb’s Heartbeats, I can console myself upon the notion we’ll meet again some sunny Full-Tone day, and not forgoing, a band I’ve been meaning to tick off my must-see list, Devizes-based Paradox, were bundling equipment on stage superfast.
Paradox are entertaining, period. Kicking off with the Kinks’ You Really Got Me, and particularly adroit with the Beatles’ Day Tripper, yeah, they’re predominately covers, but their few originals came to a hilarious apex with a soon-to-be redundant satirical stab at Boris Johnson. Still, they were fun all round, and frontman, Derrick Jepson slogged it out as an amusing compere.
With George Wilding reassigned to a cruise job, and Isobel Thatcher signed off with covid, any doubt the two unfortunate cancellations would affect the schedule were abandoned when guitarist and sax backing for Thatcher surprisingly, mostly to themselves, produced a sublime set.
Then two hard rock bands, Melksham-Devizes crossover Plan of Action and Pewsey’s Humdinger contested for the best Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell cover, but also separately blessed the afternoon with back-to-back rock cover sets, that, while not entirely my cuppa, were exceptionally accomplished and certainly got the party going. While it was the heavier end of the scale which floated my boat from Plan of Action, covering Foo-Fighters yet also fantastically replicating Ready to Go, by Republica, the most appealing from Humdinger was certainly the breezy and encapsulating cover of Stereophonics’ Dakota. Both took no prisoners; drink was taking effect and CrownFest was gathering pace.
Confessions time; I neglected to tell John of Illingworth he was up for a mighty fine review regardless, until after he dropped me off home! Though despite following two heavy rock bands, this duo acoustic set with Jolyon Dixon, for me, was the kingpin in the line-up. Illingworth are so utterly skilful in driving a cover headlong into sentimental city, it’s always a pleasure. With heart and soul channelled, two guitars and a foot drum are all that’s required from Illingworth to produce breath-taking versions of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here, and The Beatles Hey Jude, among others on this refined setlist; The Waterboys, Oasis, et al. Songs which could be considered cliché if anyone other than Illingworth were stamping their authority on them.
Time was nigh for the finale, Real Magic from Leicester pulled out the tribute act costume shop to replicate a marvellous homage to Queen, of which goes beyond comparison, likely because I’ve not witnessed another Queen tribute before. If doubts of how well they’d accomplish such a feat were mildly enthused with quantities of alcohol, but nevertheless were absolute perfection. Through every legendary hit they covered them with precision and finesse, it was a sight to behold, truly confirming the kind of magic CrownFest had monumentally achieved through just their first attempt. What a wonderful way to end the day, as villagers lit up the area with a true bond to be proud of. Spot on, I say.
I believe some folk need to get over the antiquated notion festivals are only for a raging mob of crusties, as trends have changed dramatically from the anarchist balls of the eighties or illegal raves of the nineties. Music festivals are today a stalwart of family entertainment, churches of popular culture and performing arts. They’re controlled, they’re mainstream, and the industries’ essentiality for them will not be put off by a whinging minority. It was great to meet Peggy-Sue of Swindon 105.5 radio, who for the past year has been producing a show wholly dedicated to local acts, and Mark Jones of Fantasy Radio, as we got along handsomely, chasing the shade in squatting his gazebo. So, if us media giants can get along, I’m sure a village community can too!
We look forward to the possibility of this being an annual fixture, word passed around CrownFest in the heat of the moment was positive it would be, meanwhile they’ll sporadically host smaller music events, and if true it’d be wise to bookmark CrownFest 2023 on your calendar.
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When I started Devizine I never imagined I’d be writing about a memorial which looked like a litterbin, but I did, because it did, and it was being used as one. I’m glad to say little over a year later the memorial has been restored to its former glory by Bishops Cannings Parish Council.….
A happy ending to a mysteriously unfolding saga, whereby folk far more knowledgeable on this, and likely most other subjects in general, enlightened us to what it was, why it was placed there and why it had been so sorely forgotten. The article took a number of edits, to the point I stagnated frustratedly; am I still writing about a bin-like memorial?!
Before……
Due to a boundary change on which The YMCA Memorial was previously moved to by Devizes Town Council, adjacent to the former Aster building, it wasn’t until it was bought to the attention of the Bishops Cannings Parish Council that it been inherited by them, they sought to rectify the state of the memorial. And look at it now!
After!
By the power of Greyskull, Bishops Cannings Parish Council, if this isn’t the second time in as many weeks, I’ve had to sing your praises; go steady, you’re putting other local town and village councils to shame!
It’s not Christmas until the choir sings, and Devizes Chamber Choir intend to do precisely this by announcing their Christmas Concert, as they have done since they were founded in 1978….. Devizes Chamber Choir is a group of around thirty singers, with a broad repertoire from acapella, through chamber works to major choral masterpieces including…
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A Devizes resident, Simon Frankland on a Sunday stroll with his dog, stops to take a snap of an odd concrete rectangle on the grass verge of London Road, opposite the Aster Group building. Posting it to Facebook group, The Devizes Issue caused something of a mysterious stir, because while it rather resembles one of those seventies litter bins, Mr Frankland pointed out it is not, rather it is a YMCA war memorial, dedicating a long-lost garden to the fallen; who knew?
Some did it seems, after publishing this, so please read on to the updated section at the end, where some assumptions I gave are corrected, but the saga continues as more information about it is speculated on social media. The plot thickens, but the one thing we’re certain of it is not a bin, so don’t use it as one!
Begging for some to throw toys from their prams that it is disrespectful to use it as a bin, which by the paper and bottles wedged into it, and doggy poo bags surrounding it, appears it has been for some time, it must be said, you cannot blame folk because, left to the powers of nature, it does look uncannily like a bin, especially if passing by it on a dark winter evening, hurrying on a busy main road. Even those, apparently responsible for its upkeep, Bishop’s Cannings Parish Council, agree it does.
But if it was clearly marked and renovated, yes, of course, it would be disrespectful. There appears to be some markings engraved on the stone, but it is so worn they are near illegible and undefinable. Curiously, despite its rudimentary rectangular design, the reason it has been left to dilapidation, is its very being, and the location of its being.
I’m not here to point the blame at anyone, as it seems it has been understandably overlooked. Though it is based in Devizes, Town Councillor Iain Wallis believes it is the jurisdiction of the Bishop’s Cannings Parish Council, as his area stops at St James Church. Though the parish council admits while it is their responsibility, they appear equally unaware of it as others, and they think the design of it certainly lies with Devizes Town Council.
An antiquated boundary, an unfortunate bad design, premonition of a council litter bin thirty years prior, are likely the reason for it being overlooked and misused; a monument discounted through being on the borderline, near gardens of the barracks long closed down; you can’t stop the hands of time, but we can realise and respond accordingly to correct it.
As a consequence of me bringing the post to the attention of Bishop’s Cannings Parish Council, an email and a photo has been sent to the chair and clerk, and a parish councillor replied, “no doubts it will get sorted, as we have the RBL Seend Secretary as one of our Parish Councillors.”
Seems failproof, but I’m certain if it doesn’t happen through official procedures, our fabulous and trusty CUDS will be on the mission, as someone pointed out, they could just put a flower bed around it. It wouldn’t cost a fortune to make it identifiable, and then if someone still drops a doggie poo bag by it, Facebook police are rightful to have pop!
All’s well that ends well; i figured. We hope it will at least be renovated so it is clear what it is, and hopefully it’s meaning will be restored. Much as some whinge about social media, the power of such a post has to be admired, on a Sunday too; good job Simon!
Important update: contrary to my original assumptions about the monument, I’ve kindly heard from John Merritt, who has opened a Pandora’s box, by explaining it was placed as a result of the efforts of former Mayor of Devizes, Jim Thorpe, and was “unveilled” on 15th of August 2015.
Others have speculated it was merely moved at that point, from Hopton Estate outside the old Kennet Council offices to where it is now, so furthermore, it could actually be the responsibility of Wiltshire Council, or even the defunct Kennet Council, which may explain why it has been left to dilapidate.
Yet John’s revelation explained its existence, it perplexed me even more as to why it was designed to resemble a bin. Asking for it really.
John’s answer was simple and direct, “because nobody cares,” and he shared a letter he personally penned to the Gazette and Herald at the time, expressing dissatisfaction that despite Jim’s sterling efforts to get the stone to prominence, this particular ceremony was not intended to mark VJ Day. Along with traffic in Marlborough not being stopped for the occasion, John added, “contributes to the feelings of those who served in the Far East campaign that they are still the Forgotten Army.” A letter you really need to read to fully comprehend.
I apologise for my assumptions on this issue, and hope it did not offend. I can see this becoming “the war memorial bin saga,” but in light of this update, I’d argue all the more reason to at least renovate it so it is clearly not used for litter.
Personally, you know, I have a tin; that’s my war memorial. I take it out every Remembrance Day and browse through the keepsakes my Nan handed down to me. There’s photos, medels, letters from the war office, a notebook of my grandad’s movements with entries which alarmingly gets vauger as time goes on, and a Christmas dinner flyer 1947, signed on the reverse by all his fellow soldiers. It also interests my children too, who I’ll try my upmost to recite the stories he told me. For me, that’s my stone, and it would never be used as a bin.
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