Pop heaven

I have so far avoided swine flu but have caught the festival bug badly this year. Back from Glastonbury, I realised I could squeeze in a day at GuilFest, the much smaller and less intimidating festival held each year in Guildford’s Stoke Park.

I have so far avoided swine flu but have caught the festival bug badly this year. Back from Glastonbury, I realised I could squeeze in a day at GuilFest, the much smaller and less intimidating festival held each year in Guildford’s Stoke Park.

Brian Wilson, the song-writing and production genius behind the Beach Boys, was topping the bill and I awaited his performance with considerable apprehension. Although he has been gigging regularly in recent years, after decades of mental health problems, and finally released his lost masterpiece, Smile, my suspicion was that this deeply eccentric figure would no longer be able to cut it. Every interview I’ve read with him suggests he’s still a few pence short of the full shilling and I didn’t want my memories of the sunny innocence and euphoria of the Beach Boys tarnished by some befuddled rock casualty.

His opening salvo, perched behind a small keyboard at the front of the stage, was hardly reassuring. ‘Hello, London!’ he announced cheerily, and if there is one thing Guilfordians dislike it is being thought of as an outlying suburb of London. He continued, as if reading from a script, ‘Boy, have we got some rock-and-roll for you tonight!’ But Brian was true to his word. Though his own voice is a bit ragged these days, and he doesn’t actually seem to be doing that much behind his keyboard, he is backed by a superb ten-piece band which manifestly reveres him.