Rewrite
There’s still life in the old dog yet. Finishing off the summer period in style, Features Editor Ben Tibbits gets lost in the Welsh Valleys at Green Man Festival, awed by its booking prowess, moral excellence and endearing atmosphere.
Mark William Lewis really doesn’t like camping. “I hate festivals,” he chuckles in acknowledgment. “Well, I love playing them. But I like my bed, I like my shower. I’m going to get drunk tonight, obviously, but I can’t stand the idea of doing that, going to see a load of bands, sleeping in a tent and then doing it again tomorrow. Which is maybe what you’re doing?”
Mark is right – that’s exactly what I’m doing, and have been doing for the past three months now. Luckily, I fuckin’ love festivals. I love the ambition of trying every act you want to see, of pushing past ketty punters to ever-so-slightly augment your view of a band you’ve already seen twice in a month. I love the half flat beer, the bathroom synchronicity with your fellow travellers, the light trickle of the portable shower that you’ve queued up for an hour to use.
Still, a weaker man may have folded by now. Over August’s halfway hump, knee deep in deadlines, a mere few Bloody Marys away from liver cirrhosis. My tent is on its last legs, the majority of its pegs bent out of shape in unfounded manners. I’m not sure you can blame me for a thinning of patience.
At this stage in the summer, it was going to take something unique to get me away from the metropolitan comforts and into a long weekend of no phone signal, terrible dietary choices and 40,000 plus steps a day. And that’s Green Man – a musical utopia hidden away in the gorgeous Bannau Brycheiniog in mid Wales.
It’s barely 10am on Friday 15th August, and you can already sense that it’ll be one of the summer’s warmest dates. I’m sitting on my suitcase outside Abergavenny train station, a rural town just under an hour’s drive from Cardiff, smoking a cigarette and twiddling my thumbs. Most of the locals seem to be old ladies slowly walking tiny dogs.
Eventually, a coach – school trip-esque in stature and size – pulls up to escort the remaining stragglers towards the remote campsite that we’ll be calling home for the next three nights. The festival began the previous evening, with Irish rap racketeers Kneecap headlining, and arriving a day late brings with it a fleeting sense of fomo and itching anxiety of finding a decent spot to pitch my tent.
Still, after a scenic 20 minute drive through the countryside and a mecca-of-a-walk through the fields of tents in the already blistering heat, me and my trusted +1 find a cosy and fruitfully located pocket to erect our mobile homes.
Maybe you’re wondering: where am I, and what is Green Man? As I’m about to discover, it’s one of the best festivals in the UK. During their sets, so many of the artists performing sincerely describe it as their own personal favourite, and it quickly becomes clear why. It’s your favourite festival’s favourite festival. One for the artists, one for the music lovers.
Renowned for its unique, forward-thinking and left-field artistic choices, this year’s eclectic and boundary-pushing entourage is emblematic of bold, uncompromising booking. There’s no worry of misbehaviour and feeling uncomfortable here either – the atmosphere is family-orientated, gentle, and inclusive.
After covering myself in suncream and carefully opting which sunglasses to wear, we take in some music. Australian punk outfit Delivery bring gusto and hysteria with their fine-chiselled set, before witnessing an early festival highlight. Scottish non-binary folk singer Jacob Alon finds their set plagued by technical difficulties, with the burning sun refusing to allow their guitar to stay in tune. But the rising talent soldiers on through the adversity, delivering an stunning, understated performance cultivating in an climaxing acapella (forcefully so, their guitar was untunable) rendition of dazzling cut “Fairy in a Bottle”. Their manner is gorgeous too, regularly conversing with the healthy-sized crowd. “It is very hot so if anyone is not okay, please make yourself known and I’ll throw some water like some hot gay priest,” they laugh warmly.
There’s a tented cinema which offers some welcome shade and trippy visuals before hitting the Rising stage for the astounding oreglo. The now three-piece are one of the most astute technical acts I’ve seen all year, mesmerising with labyrinthine passages of prog rock, math rock, metal and dub, building majestically on their jazzy roots to become an undefinable entity destined to find substantial success.
MIKE, in the tented Far Out, is a bit of an odd one out booking-wise. He’s an adept performer and fascinating lyricist, but it does feel quite odd to see the New York rapper among the line-up, given he’s one of the only hip hop-leaning names, and perhaps doesn’t have much of an audience in the Welsh valleys. Still, some of his flows and wordplay is peerless. Next, Silver Gore, the recently emerging duo consisting of household names Ava Gore and Ethan P. Flynn, bring a collection of expertly constructed cuts that are complex but catchy.
One of my most anticipated sets of the weekend is a bit of a disappointment…or is it? It’s hard to say. It’s definitely memorable. Wunderhorse have solidified themselves as one of the best guitar bands in Britain since their 2022 debut Cub, and come into their sub-headliner set with ever-raising hype around them. The crowd’s big, the moment awaits.
It’s difficult to know what’s really going on up on the stage, but the band isn’t happy and the sound isn’t what it’s supposed to be. It seems as if frontman Jacob Slater’s amp has broken. There’s several engineers on the stage at different points, all looking equally perplexed. The quartet give it their best shot, delivering a few raw, knockout cuts such as “Superman” and “Teal”, with the added anguish and frustration making Slater’s voice even more electric than usual. Eventually, the issues become too much and Wunderhorse storms off the stage over 20 minutes early, smashing up their amps and guitars in the process. Everyone – myself included – is confused, speechless and shamelessly enthralled.
Wet Leg’s ensuing headline set is less dramatic. The Wonderland Autumn 25 cover stars breeze through their headline set – well accustomed to such positioning these days – taking their rightful place as returning heroes following their performance at the festival a few years back. Undeniably likeable.
As the day turns nocturnal, the atmosphere shifts from family time to something a bit more recognisable for a UK festival. We mosey around some night time stages, chat to some strangers and end up cosying up around the giant bonfire in the festival’s top field. Eventually bed calls before the sunrise scaries kick in.
How people survive a festival without earplugs and an eye mask is beyond me. Feeling better than expected, I get a Berocca, black americano and a bit of breakfast down my gullet and enjoy a lukewarm sprinkle of water in the onsite showers. Refreshed and rejuvenated, it’s time for round two.
jasmine.4.t knocks my socks off. The Mancunian singer-songwriter released her striking debut album, You Are The Morning, early in 2025, and this live show translated the impressive work miraculously. A magnetic, amusing and emotional punch to the gut, it’s a passionate set that puts trans rights and Palestine at its core. It reflects a summer festival season heavily steered by real world events and global turmoil, and reminds me: there’s no better place to feel at one with protest and human unity than a festival, to be around like minded individuals all vying for profound change. It’s a beautiful moment.
Next up is the enigmatic, supremely talented mark william lewis. The singer-songwriter, whose sound traverses genre but often feels rooted in folk, offers a quietly domineering performance, shifting between acoustic and electronic guitars and harmonicas, backed by his excellent band. Addressing the crowd sparsely but politely in his baritone voice, Mark runs through early cult favourite cuts and newer glimpses into his forthcoming self-titled sophomore record, out 12th September via A24 Music.
After his set, the two of us share a beer and catch up about his performance and new album, before grabbing some food and sitting on the infamous Green Man hill and listening to the ever-enduring MJ Lenderman. He and his backing outfit The Wind have soared to become among the most critically adored acts currently plying their trade. And it’s easy to see why – his songwriting is a tapestry of emotion, his voice croons majestically, instrumentally, the band are a pure delight.
Next? Weeessstsideee CoOOOwboooyYY. The plucky young quartet who I’ve been following around all summer deliver their best performance to date in front of a healthy crowd. Charismatic and craft-laden, the band seem to be having the time of their life whipping through tracks from their wonderful, recently shared EP, “This Better Be Something Great”.
The following few hours are a bit fragmentary. Some Fat Dog before heading to caroline, who is also plagued by sound issues. The octet has such an intricate, esoteric approach that must no doubt be difficult to engineer, but it falls flat, as the band don’t seem to be able to hear themselves through the monitor. Disappointing for a group that released one of the best albums of the year in 2025.
I try to see the act of the moment, CMAT, but the crowd is immeasurably large, and I can’t get anywhere close. So instead head early to John Glacier, the UK underground rapper who has long been one of the most interesting and forward-thinking artists in the London orifice. It’s a whole trip – her flows are insanely sharp, but interaction with the audience is non-existent. What can’t have been much more than halfway through her set, she walks off sourly, unhappy with the chatter in the crowd.
Shrugging off the indifference, things pick up for English Teacher. The Mercury Prize-winners have come on leaps and bounds as a live act since last summer, and deliver an impressive headline slot in the tent, now positioned as one of Britain’s best bands. I then catch the backend of the evening’s main attraction, Underworld, which seems to have been a den of energy. “Born Slippy” is pandemonium.
The night programme feels a bit sparse in quality, progressive electronic music. But maybe I’m just being London-snooty just because there’s no Overmono or Joy Orbison. We still manage to have a whale of a time, getting plenty foggy and moulding into the darkness.
The last of music – begins slowly. Eventually emerging to the grounds, we check out Bristol-based duo Getdown Services, a party-starting secret set overflowing with punters in a small tent, which shrugs off any previous day rustiness. Next, Warmdusher groove on the main stage before Divorce impresses in the Far Out tent.
My most anticipated act on Sunday is also maybe the standout of the whole festival. Early in the set, Yard Act frontman James Smith declares that the next time the band is at Green Man, they’ll be headlining. It’s a bold statement, but one that feels befitting by the conclusion of their triumphant set. It’s a truly unforgettable performance, poignant, potent, funny, borderline delirious. “100% Endurance” is the climax of my weekend.
After the frantic brilliance of Yard Act, Beth Gibbons is a change of pace, wonderfully atmospheric and deeply impactful. We leave early, though, to get to the front row for Nilufer Yanya. What she lacks in stage presence, she more than makes up for in pedigree, quietly momentous with a sophisticated sound palette and sharp, emotive songwriting.
The final headline slot is owned by TV On The Radio, whose legendary status is well realised with a confident closing showing. The last music we see is Big Special, the Midlands band who are riotous, robust and riveting.
Around midnight, a big commotion is happening on the festival grounds’ upper field. It’s chilly at this point, but we’re soon warmed by the burning of the large effigy of Green Man and probably the most thrilling fireworks display I’ve ever seen. With an early start tomorrow and tired legs, we call it a night. The packing up and journeying the next day is relatively painless, bar the obvious wistful, slightly dreadful feeling in my stomach that tends to come after a good time.
So, Green Man? For my personal music taste, perhaps the best line-up of acts I’ve ever seen at a festival outside of Glastonbury. Broad stylistically yet focused on forward-thinking music, often from rising acts that may not fulfil the agenda for more mainstream-leaning events. Standouts being Yard Act, oreglo, jasmine.4.t, and Westside Cowboy.
The festival offers a chance for discovery, a safe, gentle environment that’s very different to many of its contemporaries, and some of the most gorgeous scenery you’re likely to see in the UK. Independent, politically progressive, excellently run, it truly is a paradigm of what a festival should be.
That’s me done for the summer, returning to a hibernation of The George Tavern, Guinness and Spotify Discovery Weekly. See you next year.
Words – Ben Tibbits
Photography – Kirsty McLachlan / Nici Eberl / Patrick Gunning / Marieke Macklon / Oliver Chapman
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There’s still life in the old dog yet. Finishing off the summer period in style, Features Editor Ben Tibbits gets lost in the Welsh Valleys at Green Man Festival, awed by its booking prowess, moral excellence and endearing atmosphere.
Mark William Lewis really doesn’t like camping. “I hate festivals,” he chuckles in acknowledgment. “Well, I love playing them. But I like my bed, I like my shower. I’m going to get drunk tonight, obviously, but I can’t stand the idea of doing that, going to see a load of bands, sleeping in a tent and then doing it again tomorrow. Which is maybe what you’re doing?”
Mark is right – that’s exactly what I’m doing, and have been doing for the past three months now. Luckily, I fuckin’ love festivals. I love the ambition of trying every act you want to see, of pushing past ketty punters to ever-so-slightly augment your view of a band you’ve already seen twice in a month. I love the half flat beer, the bathroom synchronicity with your fellow travellers, the light trickle of the portable shower that you’ve queued up for an hour to use.
Still, a weaker man may have folded by now. Over August’s halfway hump, knee deep in deadlines, a mere few Bloody Marys away from liver cirrhosis. My tent is on its last legs, the majority of its pegs bent out of shape in unfounded manners. I’m not sure you can blame me for a thinning of patience.
At this stage in the summer, it was going to take something unique to get me away from the metropolitan comforts and into a long weekend of no phone signal, terrible dietary choices and 40,000 plus steps a day. And that’s Green Man – a musical utopia hidden away in the gorgeous Bannau Brycheiniog in mid Wales.
It’s barely 10am on Friday 15th August, and you can already sense that it’ll be one of the summer’s warmest dates. I’m sitting on my suitcase outside Abergavenny train station, a rural town just under an hour’s drive from Cardiff, smoking a cigarette and twiddling my thumbs. Most of the locals seem to be old ladies slowly walking tiny dogs.
Eventually, a coach – school trip-esque in stature and size – pulls up to escort the remaining stragglers towards the remote campsite that we’ll be calling home for the next three nights. The festival began the previous evening, with Irish rap racketeers Kneecap headlining, and arriving a day late brings with it a fleeting sense of fomo and itching anxiety of finding a decent spot to pitch my tent.
Still, after a scenic 20 minute drive through the countryside and a mecca-of-a-walk through the fields of tents in the already blistering heat, me and my trusted +1 find a cosy and fruitfully located pocket to erect our mobile homes.
Maybe you’re wondering: where am I, and what is Green Man? As I’m about to discover, it’s one of the best festivals in the UK. During their sets, so many of the artists performing sincerely describe it as their own personal favourite, and it quickly becomes clear why. It’s your favourite festival’s favourite festival. One for the artists, one for the music lovers.
Renowned for its unique, forward-thinking and left-field artistic choices, this year’s eclectic and boundary-pushing entourage is emblematic of bold, uncompromising booking. There’s no worry of misbehaviour and feeling uncomfortable here either – the atmosphere is family-orientated, gentle, and inclusive.
After covering myself in suncream and carefully opting which sunglasses to wear, we take in some music. Australian punk outfit Delivery bring gusto and hysteria with their fine-chiselled set, before witnessing an early festival highlight. Scottish non-binary folk singer Jacob Alon finds their set plagued by technical difficulties, with the burning sun refusing to allow their guitar to stay in tune. But the rising talent soldiers on through the adversity, delivering an stunning, understated performance cultivating in an climaxing acapella (forcefully so, their guitar was untunable) rendition of dazzling cut “Fairy in a Bottle”. Their manner is gorgeous too, regularly conversing with the healthy-sized crowd. “It is very hot so if anyone is not okay, please make yourself known and I’ll throw some water like some hot gay priest,” they laugh warmly.
There’s a tented cinema which offers some welcome shade and trippy visuals before hitting the Rising stage for the astounding oreglo. The now three-piece are one of the most astute technical acts I’ve seen all year, mesmerising with labyrinthine passages of prog rock, math rock, metal and dub, building majestically on their jazzy roots to become an undefinable entity destined to find substantial success.
MIKE, in the tented Far Out, is a bit of an odd one out booking-wise. He’s an adept performer and fascinating lyricist, but it does feel quite odd to see the New York rapper among the line-up, given he’s one of the only hip hop-leaning names, and perhaps doesn’t have much of an audience in the Welsh valleys. Still, some of his flows and wordplay is peerless. Next, Silver Gore, the recently emerging duo consisting of household names Ava Gore and Ethan P. Flynn, bring a collection of expertly constructed cuts that are complex but catchy.
One of my most anticipated sets of the weekend is a bit of a disappointment…or is it? It’s hard to say. It’s definitely memorable. Wunderhorse have solidified themselves as one of the best guitar bands in Britain since their 2022 debut Cub, and come into their sub-headliner set with ever-raising hype around them. The crowd’s big, the moment awaits.
It’s difficult to know what’s really going on up on the stage, but the band isn’t happy and the sound isn’t what it’s supposed to be. It seems as if frontman Jacob Slater’s amp has broken. There’s several engineers on the stage at different points, all looking equally perplexed. The quartet give it their best shot, delivering a few raw, knockout cuts such as “Superman” and “Teal”, with the added anguish and frustration making Slater’s voice even more electric than usual. Eventually, the issues become too much and Wunderhorse storms off the stage over 20 minutes early, smashing up their amps and guitars in the process. Everyone – myself included – is confused, speechless and shamelessly enthralled.
Wet Leg’s ensuing headline set is less dramatic. The Wonderland Autumn 25 cover stars breeze through their headline set – well accustomed to such positioning these days – taking their rightful place as returning heroes following their performance at the festival a few years back. Undeniably likeable.
As the day turns nocturnal, the atmosphere shifts from family time to something a bit more recognisable for a UK festival. We mosey around some night time stages, chat to some strangers and end up cosying up around the giant bonfire in the festival’s top field. Eventually bed calls before the sunrise scaries kick in.
How people survive a festival without earplugs and an eye mask is beyond me. Feeling better than expected, I get a Berocca, black americano and a bit of breakfast down my gullet and enjoy a lukewarm sprinkle of water in the onsite showers. Refreshed and rejuvenated, it’s time for round two.
jasmine.4.t knocks my socks off. The Mancunian singer-songwriter released her striking debut album, You Are The Morning, early in 2025, and this live show translated the impressive work miraculously. A magnetic, amusing and emotional punch to the gut, it’s a passionate set that puts trans rights and Palestine at its core. It reflects a summer festival season heavily steered by real world events and global turmoil, and reminds me: there’s no better place to feel at one with protest and human unity than a festival, to be around like minded individuals all vying for profound change. It’s a beautiful moment.
Next up is the enigmatic, supremely talented mark william lewis. The singer-songwriter, whose sound traverses genre but often feels rooted in folk, offers a quietly domineering performance, shifting between acoustic and electronic guitars and harmonicas, backed by his excellent band. Addressing the crowd sparsely but politely in his baritone voice, Mark runs through early cult favourite cuts and newer glimpses into his forthcoming self-titled sophomore record, out 12th September via A24 Music.
After his set, the two of us share a beer and catch up about his performance and new album, before grabbing some food and sitting on the infamous Green Man hill and listening to the ever-enduring MJ Lenderman. He and his backing outfit The Wind have soared to become among the most critically adored acts currently plying their trade. And it’s easy to see why – his songwriting is a tapestry of emotion, his voice croons majestically, instrumentally, the band are a pure delight.
Next? Weeessstsideee CoOOOwboooyYY. The plucky young quartet who I’ve been following around all summer deliver their best performance to date in front of a healthy crowd. Charismatic and craft-laden, the band seem to be having the time of their life whipping through tracks from their wonderful, recently shared EP, “This Better Be Something Great”.
The following few hours are a bit fragmentary. Some Fat Dog before heading to caroline, who is also plagued by sound issues. The octet has such an intricate, esoteric approach that must no doubt be difficult to engineer, but it falls flat, as the band don’t seem to be able to hear themselves through the monitor. Disappointing for a group that released one of the best albums of the year in 2025.
I try to see the act of the moment, CMAT, but the crowd is immeasurably large, and I can’t get anywhere close. So instead head early to John Glacier, the UK underground rapper who has long been one of the most interesting and forward-thinking artists in the London orifice. It’s a whole trip – her flows are insanely sharp, but interaction with the audience is non-existent. What can’t have been much more than halfway through her set, she walks off sourly, unhappy with the chatter in the crowd.
Shrugging off the indifference, things pick up for English Teacher. The Mercury Prize-winners have come on leaps and bounds as a live act since last summer, and deliver an impressive headline slot in the tent, now positioned as one of Britain’s best bands. I then catch the backend of the evening’s main attraction, Underworld, which seems to have been a den of energy. “Born Slippy” is pandemonium.
The night programme feels a bit sparse in quality, progressive electronic music. But maybe I’m just being London-snooty just because there’s no Overmono or Joy Orbison. We still manage to have a whale of a time, getting plenty foggy and moulding into the darkness.
The last of music – begins slowly. Eventually emerging to the grounds, we check out Bristol-based duo Getdown Services, a party-starting secret set overflowing with punters in a small tent, which shrugs off any previous day rustiness. Next, Warmdusher groove on the main stage before Divorce impresses in the Far Out tent.
My most anticipated act on Sunday is also maybe the standout of the whole festival. Early in the set, Yard Act frontman James Smith declares that the next time the band is at Green Man, they’ll be headlining. It’s a bold statement, but one that feels befitting by the conclusion of their triumphant set. It’s a truly unforgettable performance, poignant, potent, funny, borderline delirious. “100% Endurance” is the climax of my weekend.
After the frantic brilliance of Yard Act, Beth Gibbons is a change of pace, wonderfully atmospheric and deeply impactful. We leave early, though, to get to the front row for Nilufer Yanya. What she lacks in stage presence, she more than makes up for in pedigree, quietly momentous with a sophisticated sound palette and sharp, emotive songwriting.
The final headline slot is owned by TV On The Radio, whose legendary status is well realised with a confident closing showing. The last music we see is Big Special, the Midlands band who are riotous, robust and riveting.
Around midnight, a big commotion is happening on the festival grounds’ upper field. It’s chilly at this point, but we’re soon warmed by the burning of the large effigy of Green Man and probably the most thrilling fireworks display I’ve ever seen. With an early start tomorrow and tired legs, we call it a night. The packing up and journeying the next day is relatively painless, bar the obvious wistful, slightly dreadful feeling in my stomach that tends to come after a good time.
So, Green Man? For my personal music taste, perhaps the best line-up of acts I’ve ever seen at a festival outside of Glastonbury. Broad stylistically yet focused on forward-thinking music, often from rising acts that may not fulfil the agenda for more mainstream-leaning events. Standouts being Yard Act, oreglo, jasmine.4.t, and Westside Cowboy.
The festival offers a chance for discovery, a safe, gentle environment that’s very different to many of its contemporaries, and some of the most gorgeous scenery you’re likely to see in the UK. Independent, politically progressive, excellently run, it truly is a paradigm of what a festival should be.
That’s me done for the summer, returning to a hibernation of The George Tavern, Guinness and Spotify Discovery Weekly. See you next year.
Words – Ben Tibbits
Photography – Kirsty McLachlan / Nici Eberl / Patrick Gunning / Marieke Macklon / Oliver Chapman
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