Live: Kendal Calling’s Saturday

Words by Sally Hirshman

For many, me included, festivals are the highlight of the summer. Being in a field with like-minded music lovers, getting to see some of our favourite bands live, catching up with friends we may only see once a year, having a drink and generally just escaping real life for a little bit.

Kendal Calling is one festival I’ve somehow never made it to before, despite only being a couple of hours away from home in one of the most beautiful parts of the country; the Lake District. Sadly, due to the aforementioned real life, I’m only able to make it for the Saturday. But with one of my favourites, Biffy Clyro, headlining tonight, it’s more than worth the trip.

I’m directed through Red Gate and take a fairly long drive through the outer part of Lowther Deer Park. There aren’t many signs to the car park after leaving the road, but I find my way and once parked up it’s another long walk up to wristband exchange. Again, I don’t see any signage or stewards but follow other people to one of the main entrances. As I’ve arrived nice and early there are no queues, and getting into the festival itself is straightforward.

One of the first things I notice walking through the campsite is the range of ages and styles of the Kendal audience; much more varied than the other festivals I regularly go to. From toddlers to their 30-something parents in their hareem pants, to the tracksuit-wearing teenagers and retirees in their battle jackets, it’s certainly an eclectic mix reflecting the breadth of the line-up.

There are signs dotted around the campsite and Village Green reminding campers to take their tents home; the festival’s ‘Leave Nothing But Memories’ message splashed across the site. I head into the main arena to orientate myself before the day’s festivities begin, and on first entering it looks tiny; wider than it is long with a few food traders, a merch stall and the main stage at the bottom of a gentle slope. There’s a screen on the back of the sound tent which is a nice touch for those who choose to hang back in the crowd.

I round a corner and the rest of the arena opens up, with a new stage around every turn. People are sitting on benches watching Tom and Jerry in the candyfloss-pink cinema next to the large Kids Calling area. I wander into Lost Eden amongst the trees and past a small outpost called the Grand Cavalcade where there’s ‘Storytelling in the forest for young and old’ with audience participation already at this early hour. I spot something on the line-up chalkboard called ‘Ukelele Thrash Mob’ which sounds intriguing, and outside the Roots stage there appears to be a pop-up art exhibition. Whether sanctioned or not, I’m unsure, but the paintings are stunning. Something I notice here, and indeed throughout the day, is the amount of litter strewn across the ground despite bins nearby, which is disappointing to see. As it begins to drizzle, I head back over to the Main Stage for the first band of the day.

It’s a nice, chilled start to the afternoon from Edinburgh’s Swim School with their brand of alt rock providing grungy guitars and angelic vocals. Their first two songs blend together and when frontwoman Alice Johnson addresses the crowd she’s softly spoken, informing us that this is the band’s second time playing here. Each member of the band wears sunglasses on this overcast day and they have an easy chemistry as they play. They’ve drawn a modest but enthusiastic crowd, and towards the end of the set someone in a T-Rex costume awkwardly waddles past us, presumably getting involved in the ‘Back To The Movies!’ Fancy dress theme.

As someone who tends to spend festivals running between stages to catch bands according to a meticulously curated clashfinder, Kendal Calling feels very different. Yes, I do have a few ‘must sees’, but it’s a festival that seems much more conducive to just wandering around, taking it all in and seeing what I stumble across. Such as the unexpected drum circle I run into near the Parklands stage, or the Morris Dancers over near Tim Peaks Diner, both of which draw quite the crowd.

The Ogretones are next up for me over on Parklands, the festival’s second largest stage, although I do manage to mis-read the map and accidently find myself at Chai Wallahs before dashing back the way I came in time for “The UK’s first and only tribute to the greatest film soundtrack of all time” to finish their first song, a cover of David Bowie’s ‘Changes’, as the stewards near the tent sway in time, pompoms held aloft.

The next 40 minutes are both exactly what you’d expect from a Shrek soundtrack tribute band, but also so much more. With Shrek and Fiona leading the charge on vocals and a live brass section in the form of the three blind mice, every song is a sing-along in it’s own right, with a crowd comprised of a mixture of children on shoulders and drunken millennials spilling out of the tent.

A child-friendly circle pit spawns for Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song, and much hip-shaking ensues for Ricky Martin’s Livin’ La Vida Loca. They’re such good fun that before the end of the set I’ve booked tickets to their tour in October and am already planning my costume (made possible by the fact that I somehow have full signal and 5G everywhere I go on site- a festival first).

I return to Chai Wallahs, intentionally this time, to catch some of ‘One to watch’ Betty Lou. It’s a bit of a strange experience, as almost everyone watching her is sitting down, both in and outside the tent, on wooden palette benches or on the ground. An original song, ‘Heretic’, into a cover of Massive Attack’s ‘Teardrop’ really show off Betty Lou’s vocal talents. She’s a mesmerising performer, but the crowd seem like they’re just there incidentally rather than to watch her (apart, perhaps from the one man down the front who is dancing barefoot, spinning and throwing himself around as if he’s the only person in the tent).

Wigan’s The Lilacs are next on the agenda, who shout out their hometown early doors to a packed-out Parklands tent. The majority of the crowd seem to be fans of the band already, who have some huge shows coming up next year in support of their upcoming debut album. They’re new to me, but I still find myself singing along to their anthemic choruses with the rest of the tent, the sound clear as a bell from just outside. They’ve got all the best qualities of the noughties indie bands we all know and love, but for the new generation; the cheeky personas, the guitar hooks that it’s impossible not to bounce to and the catchy choruses. They’re nothing ground-breaking, but they do a bloody good job of carrying the torch. Their set contains plenty of sing-alongs, lots of chanting from the crowd, and even a little bit of pyro with some sparks from the stage towards the end.

Something I’ve noticed today is that despite the number of acts on at the same time across the arena, there’s been no real sound bleed between stages here. I head over to Woodlands for something a bit noisy and shoegazy in the form of OVERSIZE and arrive just in time for their last two songs. It’s a good space for their sound, and a smattering of people are watching from in front of the stage, or else perched on the fake turf-covered benches by the bar. The vocals are slightly too loud in the mix for their set closer Daretomove, which is a shame.

I head off in search of something to eat, for which there’s no shortage of options. I pass by the Main Stage for the first time since this morning and it’s completely rammed for Gabrielle, who is in the middle of the iconic Rise. I manage to pick my way through the crowd and decide that raw fish at a festival is a good shout, opting for a poke bowl which is delicious and makes me feel slightly better than if I’d gone for something beige (although I did have to force myself to move on from the stall with all of the deep-fried cheese). The food prices everywhere seem pretty standard for festivals in 2026, so probably 1.5x what you’d expect to pay elsewhere.
I catch the tail end of Bleech:93’s set on the Calling Out stage, which they’ve completely filled. They end on the gothic Ceiling, and the fact that they’re playing at the same time as Gabrielle really illustrates the variety of this festival.

Of course, there’s so much more than just the music to see and hear at Kendal Calling, with comedy, spoken word and other performance art throughout the day. There’s just so much going on that I don’t manage to catch any, which is a shame. But there are so many great bands on that my day is already sufficiently full.
Past more overflowing bins and back across to the Main Stage, I’m excited to see that the female urinals are here (although the ones on the map next to Parklands are absent). I’ve used these at other festivals, and they really are a game changer when it comes to cutting down on queueing time. Sadly, they haven’t been well looked after here. There are no bin bags for tissue, so all of the urinals have just been blocked up with discarded paper and have therefore overflowed, meaning that although I don’t need to queue for more than a couple of minutes, I do end up with pissy shoes (thankfully I’m wearing boots and not flip flops like some others).

The Libertines are next up on the Main Stage- a band who I’ve never seen live before despite them doing the rounds a fair bit in recent years. Standing near the bar to the left of the stage the sound is very hit and miss, with some songs lacking bass and others where I can barely hear the guitars. However, I move forward by around 10 metres and it’s instantly a lot better.

The band play for around half an hour before finally introducing themselves, the crowd interaction remaining fairly minimal n general. That’s not to say they’re not engaging though, the on-stage chemistry between frontmen Pete Doherty and Carl Barât palpable and effortless as they share the mic. It’s a mammoth 17-song, career-spanning set which works perfectly in the afternoon sun. A note-perfect rendition of ‘Don’t Look Back Into The Sun’ closes the set, and Doherty throws his guitar off-stage to (hopefully) be caught by his guitar tech as he wishes the crowd “Happy camping”. The four-piece put their arms around each other at the front of the stage for a bow, before being joined by their touring members for another. And just like that, I find myself waiting for the day’s headliner as the sun dips over the campsite, and a dramatic film score plays over the PA.

A simple ‘Hello Kendal Calling’ is Biffy Clyro frontman Simon Neil’s way of greeting before the band launch straight into ‘The Captain’ with fireworks and a “Woo” from the assembled crowd. Again, the sound is a bit flat towards the edges, but into the centre of the crowd it improves greatly and I’m quicky fully immersed. Neil brings out an actual flamethrower for ‘Who’s Got A Match?’ and seems to be very pleased with himself as he holds it aloft, shooting fire into the air, which is soon to be joined by pyro from the stage itself.

A couple of tracks from the latest album are given an early outing, with more fire for ‘A Little Love’ and the stage bathed in red light for ‘Goodbye’, the raw emotion of the song coming through in Neil’s vocals. The live strings are a stunning touch, and the songs sound like they were written with the addition in mind. The sound is still a little flat in parts, but as I zigzag my way further forwards through swaying couples during ‘Space’, it becomes more dynamic. Following song ‘Cop Syrup’ jolts any lovers in the crowd out of their bubbles, and the light show they have really is a feast for the eyes.

‘Black Chandelier’ into ‘Mountains’ is a flawless end to the main part of the set, and confetti hangs in the air during the band’s temporary absence from the stage. There isn’t a dry eye in the house during the first song of the encore, ‘Machines’ (the house being me, the eyes being mine). And as penultimate song Bubbles rings out across the arena, someone on shoulders in the centre of the crowd shoots two bubble guns up into the sky, competing with the fire coming up from the stage during the furious, desperate breakdown.

A “Here we fucking go” chant from the audience precedes goodbyes from the stage, with a reminder from Neil that they are “Biffy fucking Clyro”, before the finale of Many Of Horror and a lot more fireworks. Biffy are always fantastic live, but tonight they’ve been exceptional and have cemented themselves, in my eyes, at least, as one of the best live bands on the scene today.

The last thing I need to do before the (hopefully not too long) drive back home is find my car, and after taking a wrong path and following signs to the wrong exit I somehow find myself at the pickup and drop off on the opposite side of the festival site from where I need to be. I retrace my steps and although helpful signs are completely lacking and not a single steward I speak to knows where the other car parks are, I manage to use my still excellent signal to pull up the site map online and find my way, eventually.

There’s a lot I liked about my first experience of Kendal Calling. The variety of acts on (of which I wish I’d been able to catch more), the layout of the arena, the choice of food and drinks. Certainly, more bins and toilets wouldn’t go amiss, and better signage would be my top ask. All in all, I’d like to come back and spend the weekend and take my time to experience even more of what makes this festival so loved by so many every year.