Festival Review: Kendal Calling 2026 - Saturday
Kendal Calling returns with a stacked line-up of household names and rising stars. We were there on Saturday to see exactly what the festival is really like.
Though being only two hours away from Manchester, Kendal Calling is a festival that has, for the most part, eluded us. Having never been to the festival as a punter and having only worked it the once back in 2023, (seeing very little of what was on offer in the process), I was eager to see just how the festival had changed in the three years since we were last in the fields.
Nestled in the stunning surrounds of Lowther Deer Park in the Lake District with views of the surrounding fells, its striking location is the first thing you notice on arrival. The second, is the sheer size of the arena. Of course, the early hour (it’s barely 11am at this point) means there’s less people milling around, but even then, there’s stages and stalls, tents and bars being set up everywhere you look.
From the relatively small likes of Chai Wallah and Stagger Inn at the top of the map, to the intimate forest setting of the Woodland stage or the Soapbox’s comedy offerings, there’s plenty on offer for those for whom the bigger stages hold little appeal. Indeed, like a northern Glastonbury-in-miniature (only without the middle-class crusties), you really could spend the weekend at Kendal Calling, not watch a single artist on the main stage and still find plenty to keep you busy.
Unfortunately, we’re just here for the Saturday, and with only 12 short hours at our disposal, the main stage, and Scottish alt-rockers Swim School are how we kick off proceedings.
Having already turned heads across the industry since their inception back in 2018, we expect more than the handful of fans stood at the barrier as the four-piece kick things off. That said, there are still families sat on picnic blankets and groups further back, but it seems a shame that a band with a buzz behind them such open the main stage to such little fanfare.
Whether it’s down to sore heads from a heavy Friday giving way to later starts we don’t find out, but thankfully Lincolnshire jangle-poppers Cherryholt fare much better next up on the Calling Out stage, as when we arrive the tent isn’t quite at capacity, but definitely feels on its way there.
One of Kendal’s strongest points is by far the support which they give up-and-coming or grassroots level bands and seeing the Calling Out stage packed out so early for an upcoming band is the perfect example of that. Indeed, with the likes of Arkayla, Brogeal and Keo all appearing later today it’s clear that the organisers have their ear to the ground more than most.
Our first foray into the festival’s forest area finds us face to face with a giant earth suspended from the trees, whilst art installations peer out of the foliage either side of the path as we make our way to the Woodland stage. Perhaps the most surprising thing we stumbled across last time we were here, it’s an area of the festival best reserved for darkness when the art, and indeed people’s inebriation, seem to bring the woods alive. At 2pm in the afternoon, it’s a slightly different prospect, with the previous evening’s rubbish yet to be cleared, and pockets of hungover friends or families looking for a quiet spot to relax punctuating the forest floor.
Of course, that matters not when Mancunian duo Teleshopping take to the stage, and their idiosyncratic brand of airy and atmospheric indie-pop blossoms out of the ramshackle stage. Falling somewhere between London Grammar and Woman’s Hour, their electronic soundscapes provide the perfect canvas on which frontwoman Molly Sunderland’s lyricism is perfectly painted. It’s a shame then that the levels and a little off, and Sunderland’s vocals are on occasion lost within the mix. And also, to an extent, the chatter from those in attendance, who clearly just want a soundtrack to their conversation, rather than to watch a band.
It’s a complaint not just limited to the more subdued sounds of the Woodlands stage either, nor one unique to this writer’s experience, with several festival regulars commenting on the fact that there seemed to be much more of that this year than in previous years.
It’s noticeable as we take our places back at the main stage for indie riser Freddie Halkon. Having impressed us last year in the intimate surrounds of 2000 Trees’ Forest stage, we’re excited to see him with a full band behind him.
Unfortunately, given just how many people have the same idea, we find a spot further from the stage than we’d like, and as such the chat of those around us is louder than the band. It’s a shame, as last time we spent any time with Halkon he was a highlight of the festival, but today, seems to fall bizarrely flat.
Perhaps down to the sheer size of the stage, but more likely due to those around us not giving a shit, we tap out and head across to Parklands, the festival’s second stage, for indie-rockers The Lilacs.
As expected, the tent is heaving, with around three-and-a-half thousand sweaty indie kids clamouring to squeeze in. Fans are soon on shoulders and huge chants of “Here we fuckin’ go” fill the tent. Arguably one of the country’s biggest new bands, The Lilacs are currently on a trajectory that no-one can argue with. Indeed, sold out shows seem to follow the band around regardless of where they play, and by the time they finish on a raucous rendition of their de-facto anthem Vicarage Road, it’s easy to see exactly why so many people are excited about the Wigan four-piece.
Back across to the Calling Out stage now for another band that seem to be turning all the right heads in the form of Bleech 9:3. Inarguably part of the current Irish renaissance that seems to be rightly taking the realms of post-punk and alternative music by storm in recent years, the band feel more akin to Turnstile than fellow countrymen Fontaines DC or The Scratch. Be that as may however, they still pull an impressive crowd, the festival’s third biggest stage impressively busy, but still comfortable as the four-piece bridge the gap between indie and alternative.
Years ago, it would have felt impossible for such an alternative sounding band to draw a crowd as impressive as this at such an indie-centric festival, but with alternative music enjoying something of a resurgence in recent years, tastes are changing, and one only need look to the pairing of tonight’s headliner and sub-headliner to see that.
Whilst The Libertines could (and indeed have) headlined festivals on their own right, the pairing of them and Biffy Clyro were all I needed to be encouraged back to the fields, and the rumours swirling of a secret set from a certain Peter Doherty were enough to know we’d made the right decision.
Alas, whilst the rumours we heard were true, and the last of rock’s romantics had indeed played a secret set, we arrive 30 minutes too late, having been told the wrong time! Such is the nature of festivals!
Thankfully, there’s not long to wait before he emerges, band in tow, onto the much larger main stage, and they launch immediately into The Delaney, followed by What Became of the Likely Lads, setting the precedent for beautifully chaotic hour that follows.
Anyone that’s seen The Libertines before knows it can go one of two ways. Thankfully, tonight deftly treads the line between the scrappy, indie oikishness that made us fall in love with the band over two decades ago, and the arena indie rockers they’ve since graduated up to.
It’s a career-spanning set, hinged slightly on the classics whilst celebrating material from their recent(ish) record, the latter of which perhaps falling a little flat in comparison to more established offerings. Unfortunately, for anyone stood on the fringes of the crowd, the sound is questionable at best. And whilst moving further forward alleviates this almost instantly, it certainly seems to leave a bad impression of the band on those not familiar with them.
It matters not though, as tracks like Time for Heroes, What A Waster and Can’t Stand Me Now are timeless classics, and tonight they’re played with a swagger and confidence only earned from years spent together as a band, and the ups and downs that go with it.
Doherty and co-frontman Carl Barât still jostle for the microphone like they did back in the 00s, and we defy anyone that grew up on the band not to be moved by the sight of two of indie’s most enigmatic troubadours sharing a mic like its 2004 all over again.
And it might as well be, at least for those who sing back every word to a ramshackle Death on the Stairs, a lilting What Katie Did and a triumphant and anthemic Gunga Din. A life-affirming outing of Don’t Look Back Into the Suns closes things out far too early, and we could have quite happily enjoyed another hour from the indie rock urchins. There’s just one small, or rather headline size reason we can’t.
BIFFY FUCKIN’ CLYRO.
A band who need little introduction. A band who leave a massive impression and an even bigger smile on the faces of those that see them, no matter if it’s your first or 50th, there’s very few bands in the UK that are a safer bet to headline a festival and smash it out of the park than the three skinny Scots that take up their unassuming positions on stage. Unassuming that is, until the main stage explodes in a shower of fireworks and they launch instantly into The Captain. A statement of intent if ever their was one, the band set the precedent instantly, and whilst The Libertines are a tough act to follow, there’s no doubt that Biffy are the band to do so.
An early outing of Who’s Got A Match? sees frontman Simon Neil gleefully warming the front row (and likely the 10th!) with a flamethrower he pulls from god knows where. Biblical provides a moment of respite before A Little Love sends flares shooting up above the stage. Hunting Season sees the pyro return but given it’s almost a permanent fixture of Biffy’s live shows, this is hardly a surprise. It doesn’t make it any less cool though, no matter how many times you see it. Indeed, a sprawling Hunger In Your Haunt is populated with flames and fireworks both, and one can’t help but wonder if the Clyro clan might have found themselves up on arson charges were they not able to fuck about with fire in the controlled way they can now.
Black Chandelier yields a huge singalong from the crowd, whilst an anthemic and emotional Mountains concludes the main set with cannons shooting confetti that, mercifully, is not on fire. A heartfelt outing of Machines starts the encore in a sombre fashion, but Bubbles sees the energy skyrocket once again, and yes, unsurprisingly, there’s still plenty of pyro.
It falls then to an impressive and emotional Many of Horror to close proceedings and indeed bookend the day with an impressive amount of fireworks before Frankie Valli’s Can’t Take My Eyes Off You spawns an impromptu singalong as we file towards the exit.
It’s hard to get a feel for a festival in just 12 short hours, especially one as sprawling and as dense as Kendal Calling. Going off what little time we did spend there this year, it’s a festival that are doing plenty of things right. And while there are plenty of people with justified gripes from across the entirety of the weekend, it seems disingenuous to go into those details when we were there for just a short space of time and saw only a fraction of what’s on offer across the whole four days. What is clear though, is that it’s an excellent option for a family festival excursion, though it perhaps needs to be careful of running the risk of heading into the same realms of Truck or Y-Not Festivals, if it wants to keep itself truly special.
Words by Dave Beech
Photos by George Harrison, Tom Martin
