What does ‘summer festival’ mean to you? It may well conjure up images of unseasonal downpours (though in Scotland these are simply known as ‘downpours’) and mud-packed fields full of soil-strewn strangers slipping and bumping into one another to a backdrop of Britpop’s former glory hunters or electronica’s newest saviours. Health and safety nightmares on various levels.  

But these days, a summer festival, as our following critics’ choices prove, is a multi-faceted and many-taloned beast. From boutique gigs to literary gatherings and tasteful garden parties to events aimed at helping the most vulnerable in society, all such stereotypes go straight out the window. Within our writers' picks there is, quite literally, a festival for everyone. You can even leave your (water) repellent poncho at home for some of them.

Kevin Fullerton on TRNSMT

So you’re asked to review TRNSMT in 2022 and you think to yourself ‘surely that’s a festival for the young team, not a bearded 32-year-old like me whose music taste alternates between miserabilist rock and outwardly aggressive electronica?’ Nonetheless, you chop the greys from your beard and head along, convinced that you’ll be besieged by foetal-faced teens who’ve had their umbilical cords removed by ushers at the entrance. Then you get in and, like a gust of wind pushing you forward, those cobwebs of self-consciousness are blown away and replaced by that elusive thing called ‘fun’.

You pick at the musical buffet before you, like a dieter on a cheat day, flitting between three stages and rediscovering the hyper-real excitement of pop. Bemz tears apart the River Stage with rap flows machine-tooled for dancing; Sigrid struts across the Main Stage with lively and lairy confidence; Fontaines DC assault the air with shouty verve, injecting a streak of darkness into the heatwave-bright Sunday; Maxïmo Park invite you to bathe in mid-noughties nostalgia. And then there’s Lewis Capaldi, a man whose formulaic balladeering you can’t bring yourself to enjoy but whose warmth of spirit radiates from the stage like an enveloping bear hug. 

Such is the beauty of TRNSMT, a festival that confounds expectations at every turn. No matter your age, taste in music or general disposition, Glasgow Green’s annual blow-out draws you in with unashamed enthusiasm. Wander away from its three main stages and you’ll encounter down-and-dirty DJ area The Boogie Bar, an amusement park that could put M&Ds to shame, and a ceaseless variation of food and drink stalls. So much to do, no way to cram it all in. And that’s TRNSMT in a big boisterous nutshell: here to give you a good time if you’re open-hearted enough to let it.

TRNSMT, Glasgow Green, Friday 7–Sunday 9 July.

Megan Merino on CONNECT

After experiencing many chaotic, grotty music festivals over the years, I realise the festival-going experience is often a test of endurance, with fleeting moments of euphoria designed to keep you coming back for more. Now the fair-weather swimmer of the summer festival world, I insist on staying clear of leaky tents, stinky Portaloos and flat fields that turn to mud baths. Call me insufferable but I’d much rather spend a long weekend inside well-kept, scenic grounds with a freshwater stream and an artisan coffee cart. Maybe even a wellness tent where I can do a quick child’s pose to recharge my batteries.

In other words, I want to be at Connect, a civilised boutique festival on the edge of Edinburgh where the grounds and supporting programme are every bit as delightful as watching a headliner (although, with boygenius topping Sunday’s bill this year, even the Chef’s Table manned by Barry Bryson would struggle to top that). There’s storytelling, meditation, circus acts and, just in case the Fringe hasn’t offered up enough laughs, comedy too. 

A particular favourite during last year’s event was the Tiny Changes stage which featured the likes of Jessie Buckley & Bernard Butler and The National giving surprise acoustic performances. Seeing Jamz Supernova at the Unknown Pleasures stage, which backs onto a lake on the hillside, was also a highlight. But, of course, the best part of Connect (the pinnacle for this tent-hating, indoor plumbing-seeking snob) was the journey back into town on a Lothian bus each night, where my own bed was waiting for me with open arms.

Connect, Royal Highland Showgrounds, Edinburgh, Friday 25–Sunday 27 August.

^{Refugee Festival Scotland / Picture: Ahamed Rasmy} 

Lucy Ribchester on Refugee Festival Scotland 

Formerly called Refugee Week, Refugee Festival Scotland covers around 100 events across the country, leading up to World Refugee Day on 20 June. It’s the chance to celebrate (loudly and joyously or in quietly contemplative ways) the refugees who have found their home in Scotland and who contribute to our rich and ever-diversifying culture.

The festival is run by the Scottish Refugee Council, but a multitude of events are hosted in tandem with other organisations based around human rights. In 2017, as part of the festival, I took part in Amnesty International’s Imprisoned Writers readings at Glasgow’s Hillhead Library where myself and a few other local writers were invited to read aloud pieces written by survivors of torture. It was an intimate event, a chance for survivors to be heard, and for listeners to contemplate the ordeals which bring people to refugee status. 

In a total contrast of atmosphere, last year Maryhill Integration Network celebrated their 21st birthday. A vibrant and colourful party, it was full of music, food and art created by people who make up the MIN community, many from refugee backgrounds. A sense of refugee ownership of the festival starts even at the planning stage. Last year, the Museum Of Things (a collective of refugee artists) designed the festival advertising and promotional artwork. This year, the festival’s theme is hope. Expect events from sports matches to film screenings: the breadth of the festival is beautifully diverse.

Refugee Festival Scotland, various venues across Scotland, Friday 16–Sunday 25 June.

^{Glasgow Zine Fest / Picture: Jen Martin}

Rachel Ashenden on Glasgow Zine Festival 

Zines epitomise Scotland’s DIY cultural scene and have surged in popularity since the inception of Glasgow Zine Fest ten years ago. Tiny trinkets of creative minds, zines are idiosyncratically indicative of the scope of self-publishing as a low-cost and lo-fi democratic tool. Glasgow Zine Fest is organised by Glasgow Zine Library, a heart-warmingly welcoming space in the heart of Govanhill, where you can rummage freely through shelves of offbeat zines. Inside this treasure trove, I dare you to find the marvel that is Butt Springsteen. Yes, it’s a celebration of Bruce Springsteen and his butt.

Glasgow Zine Fest marks a highly unique meeting of creators from across the country. Every year, up to 80 zine makers and small presses join forces to showcase their handmade creations. In 2018, Glasgow Women’s Library memorably brought along some of their feminist favourites from the archive, including a zine called Brick which seeks to debunk taboos around abortion.

The weekend is jam-packed full of events, providing a platform for inspiring speakers and workshop leaders; notably, Decolonise Fest held an event on DIY decolonial publishing in 2021. Inclusivity is the beating heart of Glasgow Zine Fest, which prides itself on being both affordable and accessible, much like the media of zines.

Glasgow Zine Fest, CCA, Glasgow, Saturday 8 & Sunday 9 July.

Fiona Shepherd on Aye Write 

The name alone tells you that Aye Write is a smart yet down-to-earth festival: the colloquial language, the wordplay, the multiple meanings and that soupçon of attitude are all to be found at Glasgow’s annual book festival.

There is grandeur too, as the festival takes place (mostly) within the Mitchell Library’s marbled Edwardian opulence, one of the city’s great civic spaces, designed to be populated by Glaswegian masses, as well as being a home-from-home for many students, and lovers of a subsidised café.

Aye Write was founded in 2005 but feels like it has been in existence for much longer; the hallmark of any good festival is how hard it is to remember a time when it was not around. Over the years, it’s celebrated native authors, from big beasts such as Edwin Morgan and William McIlvanney to current crime queens Denise Mina and Louise Welsh, as well as welcoming international writers from Lionel Shriver to Jo Nesbø and Hollywood superstar Kathleen Turner.

Politics and crime fiction are always well represented but it’s the array of music writing events to which I gravitate (I’ve even chaired a couple myself). In recent years, Aye Write has hosted appearances by Tracey Thorn, Bobby Gillespie, Edwyn Collins and Tim Burgess, though a personal highlight was witnessing Stuart Cosgrove’s emotional appearance promoting Young Soul Rebels, his autobiographical appreciation of Northern Soul. Just like the book, the event radiated humour and humanity, as well as a fascinating fan perspective on a cherished culture.

May is the month when the Mitchell Theatre’s foyer space will become bookshop, gathering place and talking shop for a city that loves to gab, debate and get stuck into a right guid book.

Aye Write, Mitchell Library, Glasgow, May dates tbc.

^{Hidden Door / Picture: James Duncan}

Neil Cooper on Hidden Door

When a woman wearing a going-out dress knelt on an Edinburgh pavement outside a former municipal lighting depot and put a large chunk of chalk in her mouth, it was the prelude to a five-hour trip that saw her crawl in a circle onto neighbouring streets, before arriving back at her start point. As the woman marked out a path (chalk still in her mouth), the white line on the pavement resembled a snail trail.

This was Magdalene, Are You Satisfied With The Experiment?, a durational ‘installaction’ by Polish performance artist Karolina Kubik. Presented in honour of seminal theatre director Tadeusz Kantor, this event opened 2015’s edition of Hidden Door, the multiple arts festival that burst onto the scene a year before when it transformed a row of abandoned vaults on Market Street into ad-hoc art spaces.

As an opening statement of a festival resembling an arts village in some radical republic, Kubik’s appearance was the perfect pointer of things to come. Since then, Hidden Door’s residencies at Leith Theatre, Granton Gasworks and the Old Royal High School have galvanised Edinburgh’s grassroots artistic underground.

At Leith Theatre, Edinburgh band FOUND became the first act to appear there in more than 25 years. Other favourites include a live soundtrack to Fritz Lang’s 1927 dystopian film Metropolis tag-teamed by four electronic composers, and Rules Of The Moon, a collaboration between Glasgow poet Rebecca Sharp and Liverpool-based sonic auteur Philip Jeck.

This year, Hidden Door moves into the former Scottish Widows HQ (rebranded as The Complex), just across from the Royal Commonwealth Pool. Whatever emerges, Kubik’s fusion of avant-garde intervention and civic spectacle was the perfect foundation to build on, and remains a marker for Hidden Doors past, present and future.

Hidden Door, The Complex, Edinburgh, Wednesday 31 May–Sunday 4 June.

Becca Inglis on Kelburn Garden Party

Kelburn Garden Party was the first festival I went to when I came to Scotland, and it’s been the axis of my summer calendar ever since. Tucked away on the west coast, it’s a small but perfectly formed carnival of sound and colour. You’d be hard pushed not to be charmed by Kelburn Estate’s sprawling verdant grounds, where 4000 revellers meet within sight of the glittering Firth Of Clyde.

I always say that Kelburn is a festival for crate diggers. It’s where I discovered artists like Alabaster DePlume, Dizraeli and Kampire, and caught some of music’s most boundary-breaking innovators. I’ll forever cherish being swept up by Goldie’s drum & bass voyage at The Landing Stage, the crowd cheering to the sight of a jellyfish in Max Cooper’s A/V show, or the whole festival being abuzz about a visitation from conscious rapper Akala. 

Kelburn’s draw is about more than its music programme though. Its grounds are a veritable playground for festival goers. Kelburn Castle boasts a technicolour mural-covered façade, while a footpath snakes around its base up into The Neverending Glen, a hushed forest trail where surrealist artworks blend into their natural surroundings. Clamber high into the trees, the sound of the Kel Burn rushing beneath, and you’ll stumble on The Beech Plateau, known for its acid-house raves that erupt beneath a canvas canopy. 

No matter the weather (which gets pretty unpredictable on this slice of coastline), Kelburners are uniquely up for it. At my first Kelburn, a gale blew away half the campsite on the Saturday night, but we all still emerged on Sunday ready for a dance. Last year, when a fine drizzle beset Optimo’s closing set, we zipped up our hoods and jumped in the mud. And who could forget 2018’s miraculous heatwave, when we basked next to our sound system of choice or sank gratefully into The Waterfall Pool?

Last summer I caught up with music programmer Chris Astrojazz at The Viewpoint Stage (the original home for Kelburn, when it was known as Viewpoint Session). The Fontanas were belting out their samba-tinged soul, and Kelburn Castle peeked out just over the bridge. ‘This, to me, is Kelburn,’ he told me, gesturing to the crowd dancing under the trees.

Kelburn Garden Party, Kelburn Castle, near Fairlie, Friday 30 June–Monday 3 July.