BEN HOWARD AT THE AMAZING WASING: A NIGHT OF SILENCE, SONG AND WOODLAND LIGHT

LIVE REVIEW | BEN HOWARD w/ Clara Mann and This Is The Kit | ON THE MOUNT AT WASING | 3rd July 2026 by Kevin O’Sullivan

Some venues simply host concerts. Others become part of the performance itself. Long before Ben Howard appeared beneath the Berkshire sky, Wasing had already begun to shape the evening for the 4,400 people making their way towards one of Britain’s most distinctive outdoor music experiences.

Regular visitors have affectionately started calling it “the Amazing Wasing”, and after spending an evening there, it’s easy to understand why.

The experience begins in woodland. Leaving the car park behind, the audience moves along narrow paths through trees towards the concert field. A still lake sits beside the route, completely calm in the evening light. The scent of incense drifts through the air, carried ahead by other concertgoers, giving the walk an unexpected sense of quiet ritual. There is no rush. No urgency.

That feeling isn’t accidental. Throughout the year, Wasing Estate hosts luxury weddings, wellness retreats and a wide range of events, all centred around reconnecting people with nature. Those same values run effortlessly through its summer concert series, creating an atmosphere unlike anywhere else on the live music circuit.

The concert field itself is equally impressive. The gently sloping landscape provides excellent sightlines across the natural amphitheatre, meaning almost everyone enjoys a fantastic view of the stage. Even with around 4,400 people in attendance, the site never once felt overcrowded.

If Wasing sets the scene, Clara Mann sets the tone.

Her songs are quiet, fragile and unshowy, and at first feel like an unusual choice for an open-air crowd of this size. But what follows is striking: a level of attention rarely given to an opening act. The field falls into near silence.Before ‘Oblivion’, she admits she once tried writing more upbeat songs, “but it didn’t really work.” Later, she dedicates a song to her 2004 Nissan Micra, Frankie — a moment of lightness that draws warm laughter from the crowd.

There is a stillness to her set that feels almost fragile in this setting, but it holds. By the end, she looks genuinely moved, thanking the audience for giving her “the best time ever” and saying she feels like “the luckiest girl in the world.” She returns later in the evening as part of Ben Howard’s band, adding understated backing vocals that sit quietly within the mix.

This Is The Kit follow with something harder to define. Part folk, part indie, part experimental, their sound resists easy categorisation. At first, it feels slightly disorientating, but it doesn’t take long for it to settle into focus.The change comes gradually rather than suddenly. What begins as curiosity turns into attention, then into admiration.

‘Earthquake’ is the turning point, building patiently before opening into a layered crescendo that allows each musician space to shine. It’s the moment the set fully clicks. Between songs, Kate Stables brings a warmth that balances the music’s unpredictability. Describing herself as “chuffing” delighted to be at Wasing, she captures the mood perfectly. By the end of their set, the hillside is full and the atmosphere begins to shift again.

The light softens. Movement slows. Attention turns towards the stage. Ben Howard does not arrive with spectacle. By the time he steps on stage, the atmosphere has already settled into something quietly expectant.

Born in London and raised in Devon, Howard emerged from the UK folk circuit in the late 2000s before breaking through with ‘Every Kingdom’. Songs such as ‘Old Pine’, ‘Keep Your Head Up’ and ‘Only Love’ brought widespread recognition, but he has never been an artist interested in repetition. Each album since has moved in a different direction, often challenging the expectations of his own audience.

That approach has built a rare kind of loyalty. One based on trust.

On stage, he speaks little. When he does, it is direct and understated. The set is introduced as a mix of “old songs” (a huge cheer) and “new songs” (an even bigger one).

The band around him is tight and restrained: Richie Thomas (drums and percussion), Kyle Keegan (drums), Nat Wason (guitar), Mickey Smith (guitar), India Bourne (cello, bass and vocals), with Clara Mann remaining on stage throughout, adding subtle backing vocals. Nothing feels excessive. Everything has space to breathe.

The set opens with ‘Sister’, moving through ‘Days of Lantana’, ‘Small Things’ and ‘Northumberland Ave’. The newer material sits comfortably alongside the older songs, but the emotional pull still leans towards the earlier catalogue.

That shifts with ‘Richmond Avenue’. A newer track, it builds slowly before opening into a full crescendo. It stands out immediately — and, unexpectedly, becomes one of the highlights of the night. It’s the moment where expectation and reality briefly diverge.

Elsewhere, the dynamic shifts between full-band arrangements and stripped-back solo moments. ‘Black Flies’ and ‘Old Pine’ are performed alone, reducing the field to near silence. As darkness settles, ‘Oats in the Water’, ‘Everybody Knows’, ‘Facing the Day’ and ‘I Forget Where We Were’ take on a heavier, more cinematic weight, shaped as much by the setting as the performance. At one point, Howard references “the man on the hill whose job is to keep the campfire burning”, a small detail that fits perfectly with Wasing’s sense of ritual.

The encore brings ‘Richmond Avenue’ before a final return for ‘I Want to Be the Sun‘. The latter is cut short moments before the finish due to the 10.30pm curfew — abrupt, but accepted without frustration.

There is no rush to leave. The walk back through the woodland is slow and quiet, the same path now reflecting the mood of the evening. The lake remains still. The trees stand motionless. That sense of calm never fully breaks. That is what defines Wasing. It is not simply a venue. It is a landscape that becomes part of the performance.

Ben Howard may have been the headline act, but this was a night shaped by everything within it — the setting, the silence, the support acts, and the way the music was allowed to breathe. Some concerts end when the lights come up. The best ones stay with you on the walk back through the trees.