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Back in its sunny cliff top spring home last weekend’s Masked Ball bounced back into business as usual with a sell out extravaganza of Kernow’s finest festival fun.

Blessed by pretty much uninterrupted sunshine for the entire weekend Saturday afternoon saw Porthleven’s tiny lanes positively saturated with more masqued up party crew of epic proportions emerging from hibernation to celebrate the start of the summer.

The dedicated team behind the Ball had clearly gone all out to dispel those dark winter blues with a flawlessly thought out production designed for maxed out hedonism of the highest order.

With its focus firmly on a smarter future the diversity of tux’ed up party frocked belles and beaux was frankly inspirational as the ever faithful Dreadzone kicked off the night in fine style on the Alive Stage closely followed by those amazing purveyors of all latino wrongness The Cuban Brothers.

With eight venues to get around, the quality of choice made decision making about just where to go next difficult but The Grand Ballroom clearly called with a huge DJ set by Groove Armada aka that roadblocked the massive tent in heaving mess of sweaty glitter, dodgy dayglo lycra and deep belly laughs.

Gay disco and acid icons of the dancefloor Horsemeat Disco kept that groove going weaving their usual impeccable mix of uninhibited depravity and eccentric facial hair as they do just about everywhere with their own unique brand of NYC Downlow delicious reliability.

Out in the night there were there was circus sauce all over in the Jelly Jazz Soul Circus with Plymouth legends Pete Isaac and DJ Griff ably assisted by DJ Format. The Sir Vinyl Sub Dome was practically inaccessible with so many bodies rockin’ to the reggae power of the mighty The Trojan Sound System but as usual as the dawn came up over the sea there was only one place to go for some proper classic techno.

The early morning Raveyard 4 hour takeover by Simmer and Askew has become something of a legend amongst seasoned Masked Ballers and it was business as usual underneath the dark packed camo interior. Their rhythms soared and twisted in perfect percussive euphoria as their respective talents perfectly compliment one another, honed over 15 years of playing together in soul brother sonic syncopation.

As everything slowly slid south west into Sunday evening the Balls intrepid survivors gathered once again to slip and slide down the hillside before hitting up the Secret Rebel Underground Bingo Club for some marker pen frenzy and a dose of two not so fat lady badness.

Gotta be said tho…there was no better choice than Rob Da Bank to close this years Ball. Eclectic, brilliant and original he kept tune after not obvious tune coming and coming, climaxing in a staggering, grinning, gyrating stage invasion that just seemed to go on forever. Bank Holiday Monday? Whats that? You just don’t get Service like that on a Sunday. Bring on the next one is all we can say.

Words and photos: Matt Smith