Friday at Mucky Weekender carried a little more weight than the average festival visit. I was there to review it, but it also marked something new: my son is in his late teens, and this was his first big rave. I arrived with years of history with the music; he arrived without any preconceptions. By the time we left Vicarage Farm, both of us were sold.

Our visit covered Friday only, rather than the full three-day festival, but there was more than enough packed into one night. Goldie, Aphrodite, Roni Size and Dub Pistols provided the musical backbone, while the wider site moved freely between drum and bass, live music, house, dub and soundsystem culture.

Mucky Weekender gets the fundamentals right. The site was clean and contained, with the stages close enough together that following the music never became a route march. Despite that proximity, the sound at every area we visited was superb. It was powerful where it needed to be, but retained enough clarity for the character of each performance to come through.

The 2026 “Circus of Freaks” theme became more effective as darkness fell. Coloured lights cut through the trees, strange illuminated structures emerged around the crowd, and the UFO-like stage in the woods felt like a rave hidden inside the festival.

Even the bar tent had developed its own identity. Deep house played beneath its red-and-white canopy, creating a busy little party rather than somewhere people visited only to buy a drink. The bar staff were excellent, queues moved quickly, and the team across the site remained attentive and helpful. Those details removed the usual festival friction and allowed the energy to keep flowing.

When the music took over

Catching Dub Pistols felt especially significant. Mucky Weekender is organised by the band’s frontman, Barry Ashworth, whose influence can be felt across the eclectic line-up and the welcoming character of the site. There was something fitting about watching him switch from festival organiser to performer, stepping into the centre of the party he had helped create.

The moment the night properly caught fire came during Aphrodite’s set in the woods. He dropped a dub of Man of Steel, and its bassline tore through the crowd. That was the point at which my son stopped looking like someone attending his first big rave and simply became part of it. He completely lost himself in the music.

There was something satisfying about watching a record with that much history connect so immediately. It did not need context or explanation. On the right system, in the middle of a responsive crowd, the bassline did all the talking.

Goldie’s live show became my son’s favourite performance of the night. The live drummers gave the music an added physical force, turning the intricacy of drum and bass into something visible as well as audible. Goldie was on commanding form, filling the stage through presence rather than relying on reputation.

Having encountered rave culture first-hand decades ago, I was impressed too. Goldie’s performance acknowledged the music’s history without becoming trapped by it. This was not a retrospective built around past achievements. It was a vivid, current festival show, and my son responded as strongly as anyone around him.

Shortly before Roni Size performed, my son had the chance to meet him. Roni was preparing to go on stage and understandably did not have long, but he still stopped for a photograph and asked whether my son was enjoying his first rave.

“Very, very good,” came the answer.

My son was a little awestruck afterwards, but Roni’s performance gave him no time to dwell on it. The set balanced familiar crowd-pleasers with newer material, and both landed. The audience went with him from the outset, producing one of those sets where individual reactions seemed to merge into a single movement across the floor.

A crowd across generations

The artists may have drawn us to Mucky Weekender, but the crowd became one of the most memorable parts of the night. The range of ages was striking, stretching from people in their late teens to ravers in their 60s and beyond, yet it never felt divided along generational lines. Everyone occupied the same spaces, responded to the same records and contributed to the atmosphere together.

My son mentioned it again after we returned home. One minute you could be dancing in the middle of the crowd; the next, you were chatting with the people around you, all of whom seemed genuinely pleased to be there. There was no sense that a newcomer needed to understand the rules or prove that he belonged.

That warmth will be familiar to anyone who has encountered rave culture at its best. At Mucky Weekender, it felt less like nostalgia than a living community that still had room for somebody experiencing it for the first time.

We eventually grabbed three or four hours of sleep in the car before emerging in search of coffee and a bacon sandwich. The campsite was well appointed, the parking had been handled efficiently, and the small morning food and drink stop provided exactly what was needed before the drive home.

For my son, the night delivered his first experience of Goldie, Aphrodite and Roni Size through festival-sized sound. For me, it proved that Mucky Weekender’s appeal rests on far more than nostalgia.

His verdict was simple: “When’s the next one?”

Somewhere between Aphrodite’s Man of Steel dub, Goldie’s live drums and Roni Size taking control of the crowd, I had become the very proud father of what I suspect will be a lifelong junglist.

View Mucky Weekender's website, and we'll see you 9-11 September 2027!