In Photos: Latitude

After spending Thursday battling with tents, sneaking in booze, missing Tom Jones for shoddy poetry and well, generally needing a wee, Jake May finally got to see some music at this year's Latitude festival. So who ruled? who sucked? Who spent too much time in a backstage portaloo....


Making Plans

Friday:

Dragging ourselves from the disgustingly hot tents to the Sunrise Arena the first act we bump into is Matthew P, a local acoustic singer-songwriter. Hardly invigorating stuff first thing in the morning, think The Kooks meets (ew) Newton Faulkner but we like his stage set enough to hang around. Simple pleasures...Kurran and The Wolfnotes do better, arming themselves with electric guitar and over energetic drummer. Their sound is still recognisable from their early days as an acoustic act and its a decent set. Next to The Lake Stage, curated by Huw Stephens for the weekend. He'd picked a typically eclectic bunch of bands and Y Niwl, four casually dressed blokes from Wales, get me dancing. Their instrumental surf-pop guitar riffs, accompanied by drums, bass, and every-so often by Booker T-esque keys, although not drawing a huge crowd, turn out to be one of the best sets of the weekend. Similarly, Yuck's fuzzy guitars do a good job, backing up the hype that suggests they'll be on a bigger stage sooner rather than later. One tent flattened by the wind and chased half way around the campsite, means we miss Islet and Tokyo Police Club but we make it back for The National and Florence and The Machine. While The National are suitably solid, and perfect for the setting, Florence is one of the weekend's disappointments. In the main arena he vocals sounded fragile rather than reaching those powerful high notes and her sister's happy birthday song was mis-timed.


Preparing For The Day


Told you Yuck were Fuzzy...

As sometimes happens at Latitude we get stuck behind a drunk dad for the rest of the evening, wishing (just for a moment) we were somewhere a bit cooler.

Saturday:

A morning spent with Ardal O'Hanlon in the comedy tent drifts into the dream-pop of School of Seven Bells. On a stage curated by serious musos The Word, they put on a great show with tracks from their debut album and upcoming release, Disconnect from Desire. While they throw in the odd dance and electro hook, it's still the harmonies that shine. Standard Fare know a thing or two about those, too. Their female-fronted indie pop is a perfect fit for the festival, particular highlights being “Fifteen” and “Philadelphia”. Next, a little dance to the sounds of BBC Wales DJ Jen Long and The Horrors (there was a butternut squash and goats cheese sandwich in there somewhere FYI) They seemed a little off, and the infamous “she cried” line especially lacked effort and energy; all symptoms of a band who have been touring the same material for far too long. Meanwhile the crowd gathers for he XX, who completely packed out the whole tent before they had even started playing. The Jamie XX beats and chilled guitar plucks are enjoyable and relaxing, though the crowd decide it's time to rave rather than sway. Skirting past Belle and Sebastian, we indulge our guilty pleasures at the late night disco.



Sunday:

What better way to wake up than with the northern accents of Spectrals lulling on the Lake Stage. With a fuzzy surf sound and nostalgic picks, its one of the best sets of the weekend and yet more proof that Louis and the lads are going to go on to bigger things. Bigger than the Big Pink anyway, who are wrestling with sound over on the bigger stage. Hey guys, it's ok to have an attitude but make sure you've got the songs to back it up... Weaving through the dirty Mumford and Sons fans the weekend draws to a close with the Dirty Projectors.


Waking Up With Spectrals

Harmony champions of a more experimental kind than others this weekend, "Stillness in the Move" leaves everyone breathless. Less so Pains of Being Pure at Heart, who are on later but do little that's ground-breaking, and Darwin Deez (who seems more interested in visiting a backstage portaloo than playing his set). But never fear, Grizzly Bear are here, proving just why they're just about everyone's favourite festival band (sadly no sign of Jay Z). Delicate yet powerful, half way through “While We Wait for the Others” it's obvious that to fully appreciate the records, you've got to see them live.


Jake Won't Miss His Tent