My boyfriend (whom we shall call R) has been to the High on a few occasions, and has always returned sunburnt and raving about how much fun it was, so needless to say I was very excited when we decided to take the plunge and book our six days in the sun.
Calafell is about an hour away from Barcelona by train, although it feels longer when you’ve got up at 4am to travel to the airport and the very enthusiastic buskers leaping around the carriage won’t take the hint and leave you alone. A brief nap at our apartment fixed matters and left us feeling bright eyed, bushy tailed and ready to explore. After an hour or so of wandering round, R kept laughing at my dazed expression caused by a firm belief that I had actually died and gone to heaven. Everywhere we went, we saw tattoos, Hawaiian shirts, victory rolls, headscarves and sailor hats, although not all on one person. This was not one of the festivals where everything takes place in a hermetically sealed venue; this was more like a very good natured invasion of an entire town.
The sea front is, as you would expect, lined with cafes and bars, the majority of which bore signs proclaiming ‘welcome Rockabillys’ and in one notable case ‘Rockabillys - star drinking’, which seemed pretty perceptive. The afternoon pool parties took place at The Solimar Hotel, about five minutes walk away from our apartment, with two Djs and a live band every day, and the vast majority of the bars on the front had a rockabilly play list, ensuring a wide choice of venues for those who wanted to drink their way through to the evening.
The evening is obviously the main attraction of the High; its why you part with 75 euros for your wristband and the line up this year was pretty impressive. Unfortunately Barrence Whitfield cancelled, but we got to see Jessie and The Orbits, Keith Turner and The Southern Sound (who were fantastic, and had impressive taste in hats), Jimmy Dell, Deke Dickerson and The Echo-Fonics and quite a few more whose names escape me. The only problem for me with the evening entertainment was the timings; with the venue opening at 9.30pm and the headline band not going on until nearly 3am it’s a very long night. Most nights we didn’t head out at all until after 11pm, but in a hot, crowded hall I found myself beginning to flag a bit and had to bail out before Big Sandy and Los Straitjackets on Saturday night.
There is plenty to choose from during the evening, with a separate dance tent playing jivers and strollers all night, a nightly burlesque show from Anna Fur Laxis and Slinky Sparkles (with innuendo laden one liners from Big Sandy himself: ‘she sure made my slinky sparkle!’) as well as record stalls and vintage and repro clothing. Oh, and a bar. In the words of Big Boy Bloater ‘this beer stuff isn’t half bad, is it?’
We stayed in Calafell for an extra night either side of the weekender, something which I’d recommend doing as it’s a lovely place to explore, with a gorgeous beach, and friendly, if slightly bemused, locals. Its not really a relaxing holiday; we chose to take it easy on the alcohol front, but even so heat and late nights left us feeling as though we needed another break to recover, but that’s not what its about. I had never seen so many rockabillys in one place before, but what struck me most was how friendly and good natured everyone was. We met people from Australia, Belgium, Spain, Japan and Holland, as well as lots from other parts of the UK, and chatted happily with all of them, starting from a shared love of a music style and the lifestyle that goes with it. If you can combine all of that with a fantastic holiday, that’s got to be good.
