Hultsfredsfestivalen back from the dead

Hultsfredsfestivalen was supposed to be dead. Last year it flatlined, another casualty in the long list of festivals that discovered nostalgia doesn’t pay the invoices. But then, in true horror-movie fashion, the corpse twitched. The necromancers from Scorpio arrived with jumper cables and dark magic, and before anyone quite understood what had happened, Hultsfred was shambling once again along the shores of Lake Hulingen.

With Arvikafestivalen having been canceled only weeks earlier, Sweden suddenly felt dangerously short on proper outdoor festivals. Hultsfred wasn’t just another weekend of overpriced food and muddy shoes, it had suddenly become a refuge for the wandering tribe of music addicts with nowhere else to go.

Andy Bell and Vince Clarke, Erasure.

The lineup was a strange, satisfying buffet. Veterans like Erasure, Suede, Morrissey and The Prodigy reminded everyone why they’ve survived decades of changing fashions.

Primal Scream delivered exactly the kind of ruckus you’d hope for. Bob Hund did their usual thing, Hurts were effortlessly stylish in black, Cut Copy supplied polished dance-pop, Darkstar drifted somewhere into electronic dreamland and Shit Robot was a fun experience.

Theo Hutchcraft and Adam Anderson, Hurts.

The Embassy, Gothenburg’s perennial indie underdogs, played a set that felt comfortably familiar, like running into an old friend at a bar you haven’t visited in years. White Lies and The Tallest Man on Earth also earned their place in the weekend’s soundtrack.

Bob Hund.

Then there was Bob Log III, who looked as though he’d escaped from a scrapyard in Arizona. Alone on stage, wearing a motorcycle helmet that never came off, he somehow transformed primitive blues, punk energy and speed-country lunacy into something that made perfect sense. It shouldn’t have worked. It absolutely did.

Darkstar.

The weather, naturally, had other plans. Rain swept across the festival with the determination of an unpaid tax collector, reducing crowds to scattered islands of waterproof jackets and muddy boots. Liam Gallagher appeared with his latest project Beady Eye, wearing his trademark expression of someone who’d just been informed that happiness had been canceled. He seemed thoroughly unimpressed with Sweden, the audience, the rain and perhaps the entire concept of festivals.

Still, Hultsfred had accomplished something remarkable. Against all odds, it had clawed its way back from the grave. It may have looked a little battered, a little muddy, and perhaps slightly undead. But then again, so did most of us by Sunday afternoon.