Review: For Us, Bestival Toronto Was a Bustival
When Riffyou.com shipped out of Toronto’s harbourfront en route to Hanlan’s Point – the destination 
of the city’s first attempt at the usually UK-centered Bestival – we had every intention of having an amazing time. Collecting memorable images of the performers was at the top of our list, seeing Florence + The Machine in its prime was a close second, while reveling with the revelers sat nearby in third spot.
However, upon reaching the island, we quickly learned that it would be a long day of suffering through a logistical clusterfuck that baffled media, label reps, bands and to a lesser extent, fans.
The first thing I won’t do here is crap on the performers. While much of the dance music-focused festival isn’t my scene, I understand why people love it and came into Bestival with an open mind. Throughout the day (even if attendance was sparse at times due to tough weather conditions) concertgoers looked to be having a blast – they were dressed to the nines and shaking ass.
But, what I can widely crap upon is the treatment of Riffyou.com and its counterparts.
Upon arriving at Hanlan’s Point (a section of the Toronto Islands), the security check to get into the media and VIP tent was more intensive than any airport security, or any other musical festival security line that I’ve ever gone through. Every possible pocket I had on my person or bag of gear was thoroughly examined. No zipper was too small, nor was the suspicion that I was possibly hiding something dangerous in my camera bag, beneath my lens. I tossed loose painkillers into the garbage once I saw the intense, lengthy and unnecessary searches of those ahead of me. You see, all medication had to be sealed upon entry. This decision to toss out the acetaminophen would later come back to haunt me.
Once inside, it was time to pick up a photo pass at the media area. This was previously approved by the Bestival PR team and confirmed over the phone and via email. After reaching the front of the line and providing my details, I was informed that my pass no longer existed. Sorry, what?
According to the rude PR representative, the space designated for photographers wound up being smaller than anticipated, thus access became strictly limited. While this was found out before many media took the wet boat ride over to the island, nothing was communicated in advance. There was never the opportunity to change coverage plans ahead of time…or decide that coming down was no longer worthwhile.
Once I called Bestival out on Twitter over this snafu, the response was swift, but still lackadaisical. In a more polite manner I was informed about what went wrong. However, the only solution was to use house photography from the event. This meant, instead of being able to gather and use my own shots as previously agreed upon, I would’ve had to use someone else’s. No thanks.Yeah, easier said than done.
After sending the primary PR rep of Bestival a text message regarding our pass issues, all that was received in return was radio silence. Not a peep.
Unfortunately, what this all meant was that the rest of my day would be spent either trying to shoot over the crowd with a lens not capable of doing so, or sitting on my ass and listening to other people complain – both happened a lot.
I heard various complaints throughout the day from fellow media types, as well as record label reps that had trouble getting in. Either passes were not available when/where they needed to be, or the people they dealt with acted difficult toward them. There was a lot of confusion.
At least, however, we had Florence + The Machine. Having just released How Big How Blue How Beautiful, Florence Welch and her 11-piece band hammered out a 70-minute set with conviction and flair.
Welch, in a vibrant red pantsuit and black blouse pirouetted across the stage as her booming voice and charming disposition captured the hearts of the Bestival crowd. New songs like “Ship to Wreck,” “St. Jude,” “How Big How Blue How Beautiful” and “What Kind of Man” are forces of nature in the live experience, while “Shake It Off” and set-closer “Dogs Days Are Over” already feel timeless.
The joy experienced by the crowd during the Florence + The Machine performance, however, was quickly washed ashore as thousands of people tried to exit the island upon a ferry. While the pier by the general admission exit area attracts substantially sized ferries to deal with the masses, many, many 
who were not of the VIP, media, or artist variety attempted to cram into the much smaller – not designed for general admission-sized crowds – boat. This, of course led to high tensions between those in the crowd, security and line cutters. If there were rules in place last night for the ferry system, nothing of substance was conveyed.
I was lucky, however. I only had to wait an hour to get on a boat. However, by this point one giant crowd surge from behind forced me into a precarious position, subsequently wrenching my back. I couldn’t move, but I could handle it. I’m very tall. But, the smaller women behind me seemed much more frightened. During all of this, there wasn’t one time where the big team of security guards worked their way toward the crushed crowd to ensure people were okay.
As for the unlucky ones, social media accounts suggest that some had to wait upwards of three hours before being able to exit Bestival. Considering the cold weather, unruly crowd and dwindling hydration, this could’ve proved to be uglier than just getting home late.
Today, is day two of Bestival Toronto and I will not be going. Am I bitter for how day one went? Yes, absolutely. I showed up to work and wasn’t allowed to do my job. Then, I watched what was a peaceful and fun-loving crowd forced to become pissed off and sad because they couldn’t go home easily.
I am happy to be home.
-Adam Grant
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