On midsummer night in 2003, I attended the small Wellerlo-fi festival; the name being a pun on the village of Wellerlooi, home to Club Diana singer Marcel, in whose back garden the festival took place. I may have bemoaned the Dutch scene, or the lack thereof, many times but there have always been exceptions and this was an important one among these. About a dozen bands played a short set each, often borrowing each other’s members, but as important was the barbecue and the mere feeling of being together in enjoying the importance of smallness.

Club Diana, of course, played too. I had followed the band from around the time of their first demo, when I helped some American put together a compilation-cassette with Dutch and Belgian bands. They were from near Nijmegen and I first saw them live shortly after I had moved there, supporting the then-big Posies; then as now I thought it was cool to go to a gig and to care more about the support act. I saw them several other times over the following years and they were one of my favourite Dutch live bands. Their records weren’t bad either, but I always liked them better live than on cd. Somewhat clumsily, I wrote this in a review once; hence when Marcel recognised me at Wellerlo-fi he said “ah, so it was you of that shit review!” He was, of course, joking and was as good a host to me as to any other guest, yet showed to care even more about his wife and two young children.

Marcel Brand died last Sunday, aged 43. Circumstances such as the birth of Marcel’s third child and my own wedding got in the way of me attending another Wellerlo-fi, but I’ve been thinking a lot this week about that night in 2003 and how good it was. If everyone organised a pop festival in their back garden once a year, the world would certainly be a better place. Thankyou, Marcel.