Comfortably numb

Once upon a time, I would get through a festival fuelled by nothing but crisps, bacon sandwiches, black coffee, cheap cider and a lust for discovery. Intellectual stimulation extended as far as trying to work out how to navigate the minefield of clashes and see as much as possible, and how to avoid smearing the inside of my tiny tent with mud when removing my boots in the dark, the aroma of burning Portaloos heavy in the air.

Times have changed. These days you're more likely to find me investigating the craft beer options, sampling a smorgasbord of global cuisine and attending book talks. I bring a camping mat and even a pillow. The thought of taking a personal cafetiere no longer seems quite so ridiculous.

In one sense, this is simply a consequence of growing older ("the ageing music fan and ageing music festival maturing in sync", as Daniel Dylan Wray puts it in an article for the Guardian). However, without doubt, there are also now many more festivals catering to my generation - those who appreciate the value of a nice sit down every now and again, and who often also now have kids in tow, for whom a silent disco or a theatrical performance is likely to hold much greater appeal than a reformed indie band from the 90s.

But Wray bemoans the rise of events "that feel like the pages of a weekend broadsheet supplement brought to life" - all cookery demonstrations, political debates, wood-fired hot tubs and Blur's Alex James wanging on about cheese. And I can see where he's coming from.

I suspect Wray's article is partly a nostalgic lament for those early days of festival going, when it was all mud, chaos and questionable stimulants, and when the focus was firmly on the music - which in many cases is "starting to feel like an afterthought". That much rings true with me too.

However, in fairness to the likes of Kite and the Big Feastival (much as I'd rather be unfair), they don't actually bill themselves explicitly as music festivals, and everyone who signs up presumably knows what they're going to get (Hot Chip and some Tory politicians, it seems) - so what's the problem?

Well, Wray makes a more unsettling point. "Every year we have the same discussions around gender splits on lineups. But it's just as important to discuss the other ever-extending gulf created by festivals: class. Many festivals are being shaped to accommodate only certain people."

He's right - what has been taking place for a number of years is a middle-classification that leaves many priced out of what can be an enriching cultural experience. When non-binary, working-class artist Grove lambasted landlords at Green Man last year, it's likely that a fair few people in the audience shifted nervously rather than applauded.

So what's the solution? Wray (rightly) singles out Green Man as one of the few festivals to have "perfected the balance of feeling music-first while also in beautiful settings with comfy offerings" and also hails small events like Supersonic and Sea Power's Cumbrian bash Krankenhaus for establishing their own identity.

But the elephant in the room is (as is so often the case) money. Affordability is the key factor in access. If ticket prices continue to rise (in line with increased costs), then more and more people will inevitably be locked out and the middle-classification of the festival scene will only intensify.