Voted as "small festival of the year" back in 2010 and being cited by many of my friends as being "well mint", I have to say that my expectations for Kendal Calling were pretty high, despite a somewhat sketchy line up which boasted as its main draws: dreary pop/drum n bass crossover act Chase and Status, Indie staples The Cribs and a semi-ancient Blondie (presumably to reel the oldies in). Kendal Calling 2011 was unlike many of its similar-sized competitors; a festival that was about finding the gems lower down the bill along with enjoying the general vibe of the place. Worth the £100 ticket price? Well I should imagine that it's something that can only be determined by what you choose to make of the festival yourself and how much you enjoy the company of northerners.  Like a sort of party buffet, you've got to choose the freshest cuts of meat and avoid those dodgy looking tepid chicken wings going stale in the corner to make going worth your while.

As I arrived at the festival gates, I experienced the sort of worst nightmare scenario that haunts every seasoned festival goer:  the curse of an invalid ticket. Needless to say, I felt the strange mixture of despair, confusion and rage inside me as I wondered what I could possibly do to blag my way through this dire situation, but this is where Kendal Calling gets it's first kudos. Despite my ticket being invalid and me nearly collapsing into the pit of my own stomach at finding out, the security were very fair about it and sympathized with me to the point where they actually let me in despite my dud ticket. Would that have happened at one of the bigger festivals like Reading & Leeds? Something in me thinks perhaps not. 

Relieved to have been granted access to the festival itself, I took the time to explore the campsite. It was a pleasant size that catered for both families and those who just want to party themselves into a coma, yet with enough room not to have your tent forcibly mounted by neighboring tents. There was also a welfare tent fully kitted out with a big ol' soundsystem and a giant pile of blankets and mattresses, which was full of volunteers who went around just being generally nice people. It was a really nice touch and certainly made me feel welcomed.

Friday was when the music really kicked off, The Whip providing an energetic late afternoon set to a pleasantly enthused crowd as lead singer Bruce Carter lead us through a mixture of tracks old and new, which culminated with the anthemic set closer Trash. Sets in the Glow Dance tent from Artwork and Breakage, whilst enjoyable, felt somewhat restrained by the fact it was still daytime and people simply weren't that up for dancing. Later that night, the highly anticipated set from electro/dubstep duo Nero was greeted with a huge crowd, yet despite the conditions being ideal for an act like Nero, the quiet sound system and yobbish behavior from the crowd really tainted what could have been one of the most memorable performances of the weekend. Meanwhile, the superbly set out "House Party tent", fully fitted with sofas, beds, a light-up dancefloor along with a massive sound system of course, provided late night hi jinks, blasting out everything from deep house to old school hip hop. It was an excellent addition to the festival and I have to admit to spending an awful lot of time in there solely for the buzzing atmosphere.
   

Saturday brought with it not only fantastic weather, but great bands to accompany it - that is if you could muster the will power to peel yourself away from your argos camping chair in the scorching sun. The Young Knives and Beardyman both played well-received sets to packed-out audiences on the main stage, whilst in other tents there was a more laid back ambiance; acoustic guitars and gentle foot tapping being the ideal activity whilst nursing that cool cup of cider. As night time approached the act that everyone seemed to be hyped about hit the main stage. The Cribs now minus one Jonny Marr started up a promising set, the tunes were all there and the band seemed to be in tune with each other. However, the sound was perhaps a little quiet and the audience had perhaps had a little too much of that cider. What sadly resulted was a beery, swirling crowd that barged around and boisterously, sang football chants, treating the music playing as mere background noise for the drunken shoving that ended up being just on the wrong side of the aggressive/fun divide. Fortunately the Glow dance tent acted as a place of solace, where barging turned to dancing and wide eyed grinning along to the breakbeat of Adam Freeland and late into the night Mr Scruff ripped it up in the Kaylied Tent with his fail-proof mixture of soul and downtempo which appealed to fans of all ages and kept us all dancing into the early hours of the morning.
   

As the Sunday morning hangovers set in, the fortunately good weather made fighting your way from camp to the arena not so much of a daunting task after all. And to reward those who awoke from their nylon crypt lay a string of laid back, fairly nondescript acoustic acts and later on local celebrities The Lancashire Hotpots put on an enjoyable show with their strikingly northern sound. The track Chippy Tea went down a storm and probably briefly doubled the profits made by the takeaway van selling fish and chips. Acoustic guitar-laden posh boy Frank Turner received a glowing reaction from the crowd and Fenech Soler provided a healthy indietronica alternative to an aging Blondie on the main stage. And as enjoyable as Fenech Soler were, they still didn't quite manage to blow the roof off the tent, which left bringing about the final clarion call of the night once again down to the Dance tents. Yousef and Derrick Carter managed to pull it off fantastically with blistering house sets. And so, with the music pumping and the crowds wanting to make the most of their last night in the beautifully situated Kendal Calling site, there was definitely an unmistakable electricity about the place, which is something that most will probably remember the festival for. As the music ended for the last time it was hard to spot a single face that looked in anyway disappointed by the night, and by the weekend as a whole.