Underground and under canvas

Less is Mór as clubbers, weary of much of the corporate nature of other larger events, congregated at Charleville Castle at the…

Less is Mór as clubbers, weary of much of the corporate nature of other larger events, congregated at Charleville Castle at the weekend. John Downes joined them.

You could bring your own tent to Mór 2004 or just build your own. One man with tanned skin, blond hair and a goatee has chosen the latter option and is extremely pleased with the result.

Built with three sticks and plastic sheeting borrowed from a skip, John Ryan says his wigwam reflects his own beliefs. If you can be self-sufficient, you need never worry where you're going to sleep.

For bedding, he has grabbed some wood cuttings and covered them in sheeting. Mór 2004 is that kind of festival. Put together by a team of enthusiastic volunteers, or Mórganisers, it was staged for the first time last year in the picturesque Charleville Castle in Co Offaly.

READ MORE

They say the main aim of the two-day festival is to allow a wide range of acts to perform to crowds grown weary of much of the corporate nature of other larger events. It also hopes to raise funds for the ongoing restoration of the castle itself.

Involving more than 300 volunteers, the event has been in the planning for a year, says Michael McDermott, one of the chief Mórganisers. So why do so many young people give of their time for free?

"It's a very organic festival. A lot of the people who volunteer are the type of people who would come to a festival like this anyway," he says. "Everybody is working on a voluntary basis. They want to be involved in something special. By volunteering, they feel they are contributing."

The festival line-up has an undeniably underground emphasis as a result. Including a number of international artists such as Damo Suzuki and Adem, it also provides a platform for Mór home-grown bands and DJs such as Donnacha Costelloe, Pony Club and 8-ball.

It can take a while for people to get into the relaxed atmosphere of Mór, however. Far from the packed stages and marquees of larger festivals, the overwhelming feeling is of appreciative if non-committal interest in what the festival's 50-odd acts have to offer.

This is particularly true earlier on Saturday, when many of those present are preoccupied with putting up their tents. As a result, bands on the main stage and in the smaller dance tents play to small if respectable numbers of people.

By evening time, however, the festival begins to come into its own. The castle itself is lit up beautifully and the crowds milling around are enjoying the warm August evening.

The atmosphere depends to a large extent on which tent or stage you are in. The acoustic tent is a particular highlight, lit up by candles hung in the leaves of the surrounding trees. Someone has even put a dreamcatcher.

Out by the main stage, bands such as God is an Astronaut and the Warlords of Pez provide a different heavier soundtrack to the night.

Meanwhile, the dance tent is full of festival clubbers, moving in time to the music while watching video images projected on to a screen behind. By comparison, the castle room provides a more chilled out atmosphere with people lying on floors away from the crowd.

The numbers attending each performance are larger, too, by night-time, but it never gets to the stage where there are too many. The queues at the bars are seldom more than two deep; similarly, buying food from the catering tent is but the work of a few minutes.

This throws into sharp relief the situation in other larger festivals.

By the next day, the weather has taken a turn for the worse, but this does little to dampen spirits among a crowd which clearly expected as much, given the dire weather forecasts in the days leading up to Mór.

The fields where most of those present are camping are by now a mudbath, but the general atmosphere remains upbeat and good-humoured. A woman cooking a tin of beans and boiling tea in her tent continues on, regardless of the rain outside.

Bonnie Vance is one of the trustees and inhabitants of Charleville Castle.

Originally from New York, she laughs when asked how she feels about letting upwards of 1,700 people descend on her home.

"I suppose the thought of the aftermath is more serious than it is," she says. "Last year I was terrified, but I know a bit more now about how it is going to go . . . but it is very important because it raises funds for the castle.

"The place was built for entertaining people. Byron stayed here and entertained, so in a way, this is just a modern version of that."

Charleville Castle should be back to relative normality by Wednesday, bar a little wear and tear, she says with absolute confidence. Until next year, surely, that is.