In 2006, Jane Richter and a small team associated with local Folk clubs launched the first Kangaroo Valley Folk Festival, with self-built stages (thanks to Bob Beasley and volunteers) and gigs spread throughout the village, dancing at Upper River Hall…all of it awash in a weekend of constant downpours and rivulets running through stallholders’ tents. 2007 had better weather and numbers, but by 2008 things were less certain.
Two weeks before 2008, Richter asked Stuart Leslie if he could do the sound in the Hall. He did. Sally Leslie remembers that “during the weekend, Stuart said to me ‘It’d be terrible for this to just stop’, because the 2008 one was a little bit light on, as I remember.”
Attending folk festivals since the 1970s, often driving through from their home in Nowra, they’d thought the Valley would be a great place for a small folk festival. When the founding committee left, the Leslies jumped in, with Rob Cleary as co-programmer of the weekend’s acts.
“One of the first things Stuart did was to move the festival from September to October, and we’ve had a bit of rain or a bit of wind now and then but nothing like those first couple of years,” says Allan Stone, who runs site management and staging and also the Poets’ Breakfast and the recitation and team ‘battle’ competitions.
Leslie tells: “[In 2009] we had absolutely no money. We got one sponsorship from Edmiston Jones Architects, Mark Jones, for five hundred dollars, and that was basically all the money we had to get started […] I knew exactly how many people we needed through the gate to break even, and that happened halfway through Saturday, and then I could relax.”
Performers took pretty low fees the first couple of years to help keep the festival afloat. The performers’ generosity is something Sally Leslie will come back to later: jumping in with spontaneous gigs to fill a suddenly empty spot; loaning other performers equipment or instruments; or doing the special performance for the school (one of her favourite festival events). Now there’s plenty of money to pay performers properly and cover costs, and debts have been repaid, thanks to Stuart Leslie’s good financial management. “And we’ve been part of the scene for a long time and that was an advantage ‘cause we knew almost everybody,” which helped with logistical management.
Performers have always been billeted and Leslie hires those who can stay the whole weekend. He prefers bands where he can get them, rather than a festival full of solos and the odd duo. He does a callout for applications each year to get a diversity of acts on the program, across traditional Celtic and Australian Folk, Indigenous, lively bands you can dance to for the late-night slots, and “at least one Bluegrass act”. For international acts he’ll often collaborate with other festivals like Dorrigo and Fleurieu to offer the performer more gigs for their trip.
Sally Leslie ran the billets before stalls, but now Jo Keane is on that hustle (and on Merchandise). “We always need more hosts, but there are definitely regulars. People you wouldn’t expect, too.” (I didn’t.) People move away and it turns out the growing popularity of the festival has meant some longtime billet hosts have a houseful of friends or family for the weekend and can’t offer. “We have very generous locals,” Jo says, “and the musicians love it. Great friendships have formed. Every now and then there’s a little disaster, but it’s only a little one,” she smiles.
Festival challenges include a man climbing the main pole of the Marquee venue, a case of sexual harassment (same man–now banned for life) and a community petition to in 2012 to close it down. Joanna Gash, then Mayor, organised a public meeting after the Leslies approached her. Locals filled the hall and nearly all of them were there to show support. “So that was a turning point and the Valley’s been pretty much in favour ever since,” says Leslie. Giving back, the festival offers local businesses weekend passes every year.
Council can be trying too. When the wrong clerk had event oversight and did not understand festivals, he imposed curfews and one night demanded any festivalgoers sleeping in their cars be woken and asked to move. Leslie took a burly guy with him for that job: Rodney, one of the regular volunteers.
It’s the volunteers who make the festival happen. From the Ticket Office, to Waste, to Camping, to the MCs, to Site and Staging…all crew, like the organisers, are volunteers, and many local. Michael Cox and Janet Bundy run the lists, which Cox says is much smoother and easier now there are team captains for each area of logistics.
Regular volunteers enjoy meeting up every year, as do performers, who’ll often collaborate.
“This year we’ve got Fred Smith and he tends to get other musicians [to] come onstage with him, it just happens,” Leslie says. “And we’ve got Mal Webb and co—Mal turns up with everybody with his trombone—and we’ve got Sarah and Silas with the Bushwhackers and also Alana and Alicia, so there’s a lot of interactions.”
Famous for its opportunities for all ages to join in, it’s a village atmosphere. This really came together last year via the Koori Tent collaboration with Sam’s Caravan – the setup and the people who were doing it. “Sam and Benji and Riley and Gayle…were so happy and loving it all and so everybody who went down there was happy,” Sally Leslie says.
Riley Nolan, to whom Peter Swain passed on the role of Koori Tent Director six years ago, wrote to me: “[Sam’s] support has been instrumental in shaping the Tent into what it is today.
“The Koori Tent has evolved into a communal gathering place where people from all backgrounds can come together to celebrate culture. Whether enjoying live music, learning new skills in crafting First Nations artwork, or participating in cultural workshops, it offers a space for both Indigenous and non-Indigenous community members to foster positive connections throughout the festival.” His vision is for this to grow and become a “community run sanctuary. A place where all First Nations people can collaborate. Central to this vision is the continued support for First Nations musicians and artists, providing them with opportunities and spaces to showcase their talents and enrich the cultural fabric of our community.”
When Uncle Peter Swain started the Koori Tent, he called it Mudjingal, in Dharawal meaning ‘we’re all friends’, and he and Nolan spoke at length about forward planning. It was important to them both that the Koori Tent be annexed and self-sustaining, with its own program and ability to pay performers. “So it’s a value-add to the festival…not drawing from it…and so we don’t have to set up a little stall [and sell our stuff] to make money to get home,” Swain says. “It took a bit of butting heads to get there…but I really believe that everyone on the committee had the same goal at heart for the festival and the place [and that’s] to have a strength of itself, of its own.”
“It’s never been a commercial enterprise,” says Sally Leslie. Stuart Leslie adds: “It’s really been a bunch of folkies saying this is a great place for a festival…let’s do it.”
Why not grab your chance this year and join in? https://www.kangaroovalleyfolkfestival.com.au/
