29/06/2025
Like the cliché millennial Londoner I am, Field Day has a permanent slot in my calendar.
In 2025, it moved from Victoria Park in East to it’s new home South of the river – Brockwell Park.
This year, the weather gods were firmly on side: a full day of blazing sun over Brockwell Park, the kind of heat that has you stress-texting your mates for SPF but also secretly basking in the smug glow of being outdoors in actual summer. There was a buzz in the air from the get-go - Field Day had found its new home, and South London showed up.
Food-wise, the festivals hosted at this site continue to outdo themselves. I kicked off with a beef and cheese patty from Flake and Bake - an elite choice. Later in the afternoon, I parked myself on the grass with a Banh Mi in hand. So much better than a sad hotdog and oily chips. Behind the scenes, there was a whole area ran by the iconic chicken shop chain Morleys offering chicken and chips - for a South London native, this was nirvana. Whoever greenlit that deserves a raise.
Drinks-wise, Field Day had range. From your basic-but-reliable White Claws to proper cocktails and a variety of beers (enough to satisfy even your snobbiest mate). Everything felt easy- no hour-long queues, no surly bartenders, just good vibes and cold drinks.
As was widely reported, there was some pre-festival drama. Multiple artists dropped out following controversy surrounding the festival’s ownership, and there was a lot of whispering online in the run-up. But credit where it’s due - the organisers pivoted like pros. Set times were reshuffled, some acts played longer, and unless you were deep in the know, you’d be none the wiser. Weirdly, the looseness gave the day a more spontaneous, meandering vibe - people wandering between stages, stumbling across new artists, not just glued to a rigid schedule.
One of the day’s pleasant surprised for me came in the form of Jungle, playing a DJ set. I know them more for their polished, retro-funk recordings, but their set was slick, bass-heavy, and got the crowd properly moving. They knew what they were doing, reading the vibe and building a party atmosphere.
Folamour, as always, came correct. A masterclass in feel-good house with ability to take the crowd from sun-drenched groove to euphoric hands-in-the-air. I don’t say this lightly, but he could score my entire summer and I’d thank him for it.
And then, of course, there was Peggy.
The inimitable Peggy Gou closed the day with the grace of a woman who knows she’s a headline act. Her set was flawless: from sun-kissed anthems like It Goes Like (Nanana) to full-blown euphoric moments like Freed From Desire - the park practically levitated. People were on shoulders, arms in the air, somehow living in the crowd but also in our own little Peggy curated worlds. There’s something about the way she builds momentum without ever peaking too early; she’s a DJ who plays the crowd like an instrument.
Production-wise, it was slick, impressively engaging considering she was alone on a large stage. And, let’s be honest, she looked cool as hell - that curly updo? I shamelessly tried to copy it for Cross the Tracks the next day and looked like I’d been electrocuted. Some things can’t be faked.
Field Day might have moved to a new patch of grass, but it’s still one of the best festivals in the capital. It’s full of character, and just polished enough to keep you coming back.
See you next year, Field Day.