This month’s Under the Drum was the Reade family’s second year running the festival, tucked away on Breckenhill Farm about thirty minutes from Belfast. Now expanded to two nights with two stages, a jam packed extracurricular activities schedule on Saturday ranging from yoga and poetry to falconry and foraging, an art tent with live crafting and screen printing, plus pond swimming and a sauna, there was no hope of ever being bored. Yet there were still plenty of spots to sit and take in the festival away from the crowds or in the thick of things.
We arrived early Friday afternoon and, after setting up camp in the designated quiet site (thankfully well respected throughout the weekend), began to meander around the festival grounds. The Reade family, despite being in the crucial final hours before gates opened, still made time for a warm welcome alongside the many pets around their family home.

Friday night’s action took place solely on the Barn Stage, a wedding venue that had been transformed into a cozy black box theatre. Lewis McLaughlin took on the task of opening the entire festival, clearly relishing the opportunity to have fun with his set. Playing songs from his latest album solo for the first time, he ushered the crowd in gently, getting us to sing off our shyness with his self described ‘level one folk tune’ ‘Summer’. Arborist followed with a solo set that left the barn misty eyed, particularly during his cover of ‘Thirteen’ by Big Star. Elsdeer closed out the evening’s acoustic offerings with a simple setup of guitar, mandolin, and what I can only describe as shoe bells. Their song ‘Simple Things’ was my highlight – sitting cross-legged on the barn floor, hearing those melodies bounce off the wooden beams around us.
The smaller Friday night crowd, with just the one stage running, gave the evening a festival warm-up party feel. Chatting outside the barn felt like being at a house party with all the people you never get enough time to see in the city.
What struck me most about the first night was how artists acknowledged the sheer amount of work that had gone into the festival – from the family to Breckenhill staff, volunteers, and friends. I’ve been growing disillusioned with Belfast gigs recently, where crowd etiquette has ranged from poor to barely acceptable, but here something different was happening. Through artists recognizing these efforts on stage, the small crowd wasn’t just well behaved but genuinely warm and caring about both the music and the work facilitating the experience. Artists were actively chatting about the venue between songs, creating an intimate, relaxed atmosphere.

After hearing that ticket sales for Saturday had picked up over the course of the first evening, Saturday morning brought more trickles of tents being set up – families gravitating to the quiet camping site, others sprawling across the much more popular ‘party’ site near the field stage. Moon Landing and Ben Traill kicked off the day’s performances confidently. Moon Landing had the monumental task of opening the main field stage, delivering a set full of energy and cheeky banter between songs despite the lads’ sore heads from the night before. Meanwhile, Ben Traill took the morning shift on the barn stage, filling it with bouncing, infectious energy that helped get the blood moving for those who’d missed the morning yoga sessions.
I then headed back to the field stage to catch VERA. Sarah Toner possesses relentless, genuine rockstar energy, and supported by an incredible band, they delivered non-stop earworms exploring the trappings of toxic modern love.
Then it was time to take advantage of the amenity I was most excited for: the pond and sauna combo, joined by Junk Drawer’s occasional bassist and partner. Our dip was soundtracked by echoes of Touzai and Fizzy Orange drifting over from the field stage. My one tip: bring swim shoes, as the organic sludge at the bottom of the lake was not for the faint of heart – though one of my fellow swimmers was revelling in it. The Hot Box Sauna, with its glass window overlooking the water, was a genuine delight and a much better way to warm up than sitting in a humid tent with hot air trapped inside.
I was back in business by the time Problem Patterns hit the field stage, and my only notes read ‘AND I WILLLLLLL ALWAYS LOVEEEE YOU.’ I’ve been a Problem Patterns fan since seeing them perform years ago at a Gig for Choice at the Oh Yeah Centre, and as always they delivered a set filled with pure catharsis and fun.
Catching Landless in the barn by sheer accident was a gift. The Irish quartet delivered a transcendent set, with the acoustics of the barn becoming part of the band itself. The sheer power in their voices caught me off guard – their placement on the barn stage was a deeply clever programming choice.

I found myself in a rather altered state during the Skinner set. But knowing that missing this band would have left a deep hole in my heart, I toughed it out and got my reward. I knew from coming into their set early that they were talented, but once they had the crowd in the palm of their hand, they played a completely relentless set. The mosh pit that started with one toddler on a bike and another toddler chasing them descended into the first full blown mosh pit I witnessed all day, Reade family and all.
It would be completely biased of me to try and critique Junior Brother‘s headliner set, as I spent the thirty minutes beforehand running around telling anyone who would listen that he was my Bob Dylan – and thankfully, unlike Bob Dylan, not a Zionist – then proceeded to start a ring-a-ring-a-roses three-woman mosh pit during ‘Hungover at Mass.’ It was a truly incredible set with an artist who was made for the setting, as he put it, ‘on a hill, on a lake.’ Junior Brother took a broken guitar string in his stride, keeping the audience entertained with crowd banter that fell somewhere between pantomime and stand-up.

The act that I was most excited to see for the first time was Negro Impacto. While coming after the headliner is a big ask for any band, Chi Chi’s vocals and enchanting energy kept the crowd dancing and singing along. ‘Fangirl’ and the audience’s instructions to oohh and ahhh as if they’ve just spotted their crush led to a choral arrangement that echoed down to the lough.
Last up on the field stage was Silverbacks, giving their all and constantly apologizing for the absence of band member and band wife Emma. They drew probably one of the strongest, danciest crowds of the night. I didn’t last long after Silverbacks, heading back to my tent, but the sounds of the DJ sets that followed in the Barn stage made me wish I’d had enough energy to keep going. Joking on stage, a member of Silverbacks had noted it reminded them of the first Woodstock. And in all sincerity, that feeling had been running through most conversations I’d had with people – that we were all witnessing the start of something special, that it was a gift to be with this festival in its early days. Chatting with artists throughout the day, so many of them expressed appreciation that the organisers care about local music and giving it a place to shine. My take: Under the Drum is positioning itself perfectly as a festival that will grow alongside the artists they champion.
Sunday morning was, according to much more experienced festival goers than myself, a real gift. The Good Food truck stayed steady serving up vegan options, Rocco’s coffee truck provided much needed caffeine, and the family put on bacon butties as people packed down tents. There was something magical about watching people who’d been strangers at the start of the weekend teasing each other over sore heads, asking how everyone slept, and comparing the times they’d finally crashed into their tents. Chatting with one of the musicians while waiting in line for a coffee, we wondered what would change next year – how the family would grow the festival while maintaining this magical atmosphere they’d built.
So if you’re reading this and wondering whether you need to put a calendar reminder for Under the Drum next year, the answer is yes, definitely. And I’ll see you there.
