In January 1994, I was invited to Union Chapel in Islington, which had just opened as an arts centre. With its labyrinth of rooms and corridors, it seemed the perfect setting for a multi-faceted Sunday social — at a time when such a thing didn't yet exist.
A lot of people were growing tired of the party scene back then, so it felt serendipitous to invert the regular club concept: making the most ambient space the central attraction, with sideshows including brain machines, a café, an art gallery, a bookshop, a cake and tea stall, and — notably — free internet access. We were the first UK event to offer that, and to publish our own website. My partner at the time, Katrina, joined me on a journey that would last well over a decade. The formative London event — more a "happening" than a club — soon attracted hundreds of people, helped by early press from David Toop in The Times, DJ and Mixmag, and our own On magazine.
After two years, the "festival in a club" concept moved into the open air — again, on a whim. After camping out with friends in a bunkhouse in Llanthony in the Black Mountains, I asked the Abbey owner if he knew of any land nearby we could hire. He called a farmer down the road on the spot. We camped that night in his field by a running stream, listening to Global Communication's 76:14 under a bright starry sky — and decided we had to come back the following summer with more friends.
In August 1995, The Big Chill Gala was born. Word spread to around 500 people, who celebrated a gloriously sunny, non-stop weekend in the wilds — Matt Black from Coldcut, Mixmaster Morris and Global Communication among the regulars, alongside George Evelyn (Nightmares On Wax), Springheel Jack and ice sculptor Jony Easterby. There was no security, other than the farmer with his pitchfork. The local police came to read us the freshly implemented Criminal Justice Bill, decided it wasn't a rave after all, and ended up coming back off-duty to hang out — calling it the most peaceful, best-organised event they'd seen in the area.
After a rollercoaster first attempt at a licensed festival left us bankrupted, we picked ourselves up and found the lush Larmer Tree Victorian pleasure gardens on the Wiltshire/Dorset borders — home for the first of five years there. The event remained a well-kept secret for a couple of years before gathering unstoppable momentum, as we earned a reputation for attention to detail, idyllic rural locations, and a genuinely loyal online community.
The Big Chill came to offer a unique blueprint for a lifestyle far beyond "just a festival" — one that's since spawned many imitators. We collaborated with The British Council on a pioneering 1,000-capacity event at the Cairo Opera House, and took The Big Chill, in microcosm, to the Greek island of Naxos for a week-long party, three years running (2000–2002) — life-changing for many people, in different ways.
As Larmer Tree became overwhelmed with demand, we branched out to a second site after Eastnor Castle in Herefordshire invited us to use their deer park. The seclusion and rolling hills on the edge of the Malverns proved an ideal setting, and the festival grew exponentially — from 8,000 at its 2002 debut to a peak of 35,000. It wasn't without heartache: falling two thousand tickets short of break-even in the first year meant selling 50% of The Big Chill to The Cantaloupe Group, owners of Cargo in Shoreditch.
That partnership worked well for several years, as the company opened The Big Chill Bar in Brick Lane and, in 2006, the three-storey Big Chill House in King's Cross, plus a one-off festival in Goa in 2007. The rapid growth brought its own strains, and eventually led to me parting ways with the project I'd nurtured for fourteen years.
The greatest gift The Big Chill's golden years gave me was bringing people together — finding the common denominators, the life-affirming, life-changing qualities I never imagined possible. It was a joy to give early exposure to artists like Lily Allen, Goldfrapp, Amy Winehouse, Gotan Project, Mr Scruff, Seasick Steve, Röyksopp, Zero 7 and Lemon Jelly — and to welcome iconic names like Leonard Cohen, David Byrne and Isaac Hayes for guest slots.
We were, I think, a catalyst for the chill-out boom at the turn of the decade — establishing ourselves among the UK's top half-dozen festivals, and, through that attention to detail, helping bring about the rise of the smaller, more intimate "boutique" festival.
I parted company with The Big Chill in December 2007. More on this in my book, when it's finally published.
The spirit of that first running-stream campsite never left. It's alive today in Campfire Convention, and our annual Campout gathering.