I really mean to start off Saturday with Laura Marling in one of the event's smaller tents. But in even more oppressive early afternoon heat than the previous day, sitting down in the shade seems a good idea. And then suddenly getting up again doesn't. Before you know it, it's an hour and a half later. Apparently she was good though.
NERD are playing the festival's enormous arena sized Alpha tent but it's still way too crowded to get in. Instead we take up stations at the somewhat smaller stage opposite, the closest to an outside stage there is. Can't tell you much about NERD despite the proximity as they get drowned out by soundchecking for Los Campesinos!, eagerly awaited by a small cadre of dedicated fans.
Gareth begins by thanking NERD for supporting them, later going on to attack a lengthy list of targets including the Sex Pistols (playing later; we should see No Age instead), British festivals (full of drunken idiots) and Belgium's rival Pukklepop (a popular one, this). Fortunately there's still enough manic energy and creativity left over for their songs. The power of the unique worldview invested in them comes through even more while watching various members of the band throwing themselves around and at each other, helped by the fact that with no second album songs yet essentially every song is a crowd favourite. It doesn't make for a perfect set quite. Gareth's female cointerpart Aleksandra is near inaudible for much of the set, giving "The International Tweecore Underground" in particular a weird one sided conversation feel. And when my friend complains after about not being able to tell the difference between many of their songs they have somehwat of a point at times. But when LC! team up a blistering "My Year in Lists" to a cathartic "Knee Deep at ATP" for a sub five minute double feature, or when a chaotic "We Throw Parties, You Throw Knives" coda coalesces behind Gareth as he theatrically checks his watch for the correct mid-August date, or they line up on upturned monitors for the final trimphant bellow of "Sweet Dreams Sweet Cheeks" there is nothing remotely like them. That's even before we get to the euphoric madness inspired by "You! Me! Dancing!"
British Sea Power were never likely to live up to that but disappoint a little nonetheless. Matters definitely aren't helped by the smallest crowd of the weekend, who aren't even roused by "Waving Flags", aside from a couple of people with (Spanish/pirate) flags of their own. But even beyond that, good but slightly airy songs come off as even airier and only "It Ended on an Oily Stage" comes close to moving. Maybe I missed the best bits by arriving halfway through.
A quick stop for food later (uitsmijter, a bread and fried egg/cheese combo that definitely beats British festival food) it's back to the huge tent for Franz Ferdinand.
They make for a slick and relaxed contrast to the overstretched band that I saw at Glastonbury and Ally Pally a few years ago. A carefully picked set shows off the best side of the mixed second album, and there are few moments of half-surprised memory along the lines of 'oh yeah, "Walk Away" is quite the fantastic drama, huh?'. They also trial quite a few of those long overdue new songs which are promising if not completely convincing.
What makes the set so much better than that quick overview makes it sound is just how on their side the crowd are. There's a celebratory atmosphere even before they become the only act I see to make a stab at (I presume) Dutch that goes beyond 'dank u well'. "Take Me Out" is of course welcomed with open arms, even the guitar part sung along to, but it goes well beyond that and makes an event of almost every song. Somehow even "This Fire" gets turned into a barnstorming finale whose chorus is still being sung well after the band has departed.
Rather different in feel but nearly as enjoyable are headliners Underworld (the other two days had Editors and Anouk if you're interested). It possibly helps to go into the show with virtually no knowledge of their material, as the slowly unfolding intricate rhythyms are all the more hypnotic with no idea where they are heading next. They're helped too by some excellent projections and some fantastic props, in the shape of blow up pillar things that are blown up and pushed over and around and look from a distance intriguingly like spotlights turned solid. And then after about an hour slips by gracefully, there's the inevitable conclusion of "Born Slippy" and the moment that it kicks in and the lights turn on and we all stand arms aloft, grinning broadly. It's the sort of moment that it would be difficult to get wrong at this point, but they make thoroughly sure they don't.
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