“Torture by Bassline?”: Goa Cream Psytrance Festival Booted from South Gloucestershire Field
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Well, it looks like the only thing trippier than psytrance might be… the neighbours.
Goa Cream, the beloved three-day psytrance pilgrimage for ravers of a certain vintage (think more hemp trousers and herbal tea than glowsticks and ket), has been booted from its countryside home in South Gloucestershire after locals filed complaints that the music was, quite literally, “a form of torture.”
Yes, really.
The festival was set to return to Yewtree Farm near Thornbury for its ninth edition this September, but South Gloucestershire councillors, backed by environmental health and the local police, have now said “absolutely not.” The complaints? Just 11 in total — but what a spicy eleven they were. One described the sound as “non-stop heavy bass” and “inhumane,” while another claimed it gave their entire family headaches. (No word on whether it was the psytrance or the parenting.)
To be fair, last year’s noise monitoring system at the festival was more vibes than verified. Organiser Piers Ciappara admitted they were relying on handwritten notes and a few photos after a colleague — in a tragic plot twist worthy of an afterparty anecdote — “nearly chopped his hand off cutting the grass.” Spreadsheeting was, understandably, postponed.
This year, however, Ciappara says they’ve brought in a professional acoustic engineer and are very much upping their soundproofing game. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been enough to stop Yewtree Farm being deemed “unsuitable for music/dance festivals.” A bit harsh, really.
Goa Cream, which raises money for Bristol Suicide Prevention and Sharpness Lifeboat Station, is now on the hunt for a new home. Posting on Facebook (under the name Piers Chapora, because of course he is), the team reassured fans that the festival is not cancelled, just momentarily homeless.
“For all of you freaks looking forward to being tortured at Yewtree farm in September…” he wrote. (We see what you did there, Piers.)
He’s now scouting alternative fields — ideally ones owned by landowners who enjoy the dulcet thump of psychedelic bass and don’t mind a bit of barefoot dancing under the stars. As he put it: “One World, One Love, One Dancefloor.”
If you’ve got a field, a sense of humour, and very tolerant neighbours, now might be the time to slide into Piers’ DMs.
