Cap’n Rasty’s Skiffle City Rockers

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 Rockers were 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.