I wasn't going to go to Latitude this year. The line-up left me ... whelmed. The growth in size, the increased focus on music to the detriment of other arts, and the unavoidable commercialisation in recent years were also reasons not to go. I figured I wouldn't enjoy myself, so why bother? Except then Amusements Minor and two of his mates picked up tickets at the last minute. They were quite chuffed with themselves, until they then looked into the cost of getting there on the Latitude return bus service. Turned out it would be cheaper for me to buy a festival ticket and drive them there, so that's what I did. It was only for a day, the Friday, and that's what swung it for me, as the headliner was the only one of the festival that I had an interest in seeing.
Anyway, in the manner of my festival diaries of yore, here's what I saw...
Friday:
- The Adam Buxton Band : Second Stage. I made sure to have negotiated the traffic and the hike from the car park in time, and to have impressed upon the boys our agreed rendezvous point and time for the end of day, in good time so that I could be under the vast canopy of the Second Stage to see Adam Buxton run through tracks from his album. There was a healthy audience of mainly podcast devotees, so he was preaching to the converted, I guess, but everyone went away happy. The songs are genuinely catchy, with lyrics treading the highwire between comedy and pathos. I ate my lunch in there too, enjoying the shade. And I'll get the apology out of the way early, and say sorry that the photographic abilities of my current phone are so abysmal. Brace yourself for a succession of washed-out, blurry rubbish.
- Robert Llewellyn in conversation : The Apollo Stage. It's a fair old trek from the Second Stage to Apollo, but it was worth it to hear Llewellyn in conversation with Robin Ince and Professor Helen Czerski. The Apollo line-up had a vageuly tech focus, so although there were plenty of reminiscences about Red Dwarf and Scrapheap Challenge, there was also some very interesting discussion about electric vehicles, and the changes that have to happen to how we live our lives. Gave me real and unexpected pause for thought.
- Natalie Wildgoose : The Alcove. A change of pace next, at one of the smaller music stages. Natalie self-describes as a folk eccentric, and the festival programme had likened her vocals to Joan Baez. I was intrigued. Dressed like Laura Ingalls on her way to church, Natalie played piano, and was ably supported by an acoustic guitarist and a backing vocalist. I can see the Baez comparison, but Natalie has her own sound. A shame, then, that it was somewhat drowned out by the sonic thump of a neighbouring stage. This was a problem that would beset The Alcove all day, unfortunately.
- Ellie O'Neill : The Sunrise Arena. I only caught the tail-end of Ellie's set, but immediately wished I had got there earlier. She plays the guitar well, creating a kind of acoustic drone that suited the shady setting well. Her vocals have a aching Irish lilt, and the few lyrics I heard had some heft. I wouldn't absolutely guarantee it but I think O'Neill may be worthy of further investigation.
- Adult DVD : The Sunrise Arena. Come on, lads, think of a band name that can be Googled safely! Adult DVD are a six-piece from Leeds who make a very agreeable, energetic racket, with guitar, bass, drums, synths and samples. Even their soundcheck got a good cheer. Only possible fly in the ointment might be the slightly Marmite vocal style of frontman Harry Hanson, which is somewhere between Shaun Ryder, Mark E. Smith and Damon Albarn. Still, those three all did alright, so what do I know? Whatever, this lot provided quite a contrast to the preceding act, and certainly got the Sunrise Arena crowd bouncing.
- Courttia Newland : The Listening Post. Cup of tea in hand, I arrived early enough for the next act to catch the tail-end of novelist and playwright Newland in conversation in what used to be called the Book Tent. There was some interesting Q&A that focused on how the loss of public space and public services might impact on the artistic output of those that might otherwise struggle. But - full disclosure - I was mainly here to get a good spot for the next act, which was...
- Adam Buxton's BUG: David Byrne Special, featuring Ivo Graham : The Listening Post. If you're familiar with Buxton's BUG shows, you know the deal - he plays clips of the featured artist, talks about their background, gives insight into the creation and production of the music... it's basically a love-in by, and for, fans. Here he was joined by David Byrne superfan, comedian Ivo Graham. Later in the show, they were also joined by comediennes Josie Long and Sara Pascoe, both of whom had earlier graced the Comedy Stage. Both Adam and Ivo wore over-sized, Stop Making Sense-style suits for the duration of the show, no mean feat in the heat of the tent. There was audience participation, giveaways, singalongs, an appearance from members of the Byrne's Night tribute act (which uniquely celebrates both Talking Heads and Robert Burns), and more besides. A brilliant way to spend an hour, and the perfect warm-up for what was to come later.
- Ross Noble : The Comedy Stage. Latitude has maintained a strong comedy line-up over the years, but the flipside of that is that the Comedy Stage is always rammed. It can be very hard to get even a sight-line on the headline act. Still, I found a spot on the edge of the arena where I could just about see Ross. More importantly, I had a great view of his sign language interpreter. Most of the opening of Ross's act revolved around his very obvious and real delight at discovering what various signs were for things he was saying, and it was great watching him go off-piste and freestyle material around this. But no further into the set I got a text from Amusements Minor asking if we could meet up, so I bailed out and went to find the boy. He and his mates were flagging a bit - although AM has been to Latitude before, it was a first festival for the other two, and I don't think either of them had anticipated the size and scale, the temperature, the dustbowl that Henham Park had become in the heat, or the amount of walking. Still, I was able to gee them all up a bit and send them off in the direction of food and water, which seemed to do the trick.
- Ain't - The Alcove. In their own words, Ain't are a "London five-piece channelling the stranger end of ‘90s guitar music", a description that was enough to get me to go along. I don't know about that though - musically, they seem to produce slightly anonymous indie rock, the one distinguishing feature of which seemed to be the shredded vocals of Hanna Baker Darch. I may have been extrapolating on thin evidence, but it looked to me like all the rest of the band fancy her, which is the sort of internal tension that leads bands to implode. Might be wise to investigate further quickly then, if you feel so minded. On balance, I do, just, if only to hear them properly as, once again, The Alcove suffered noise pollution from neighbouring stages.
- Brooki : The Alcove. Noise pollution or not, after a quick diversion for dinner, I was back in The Alcove to see Brooki, an Irish four-piece that I was intrigued to see, on the strength of a programme write-up that name-checked Jeff Buckley and PJ Harvey. Well, at the risk of sounding like a wine critic, I didn't get much Buckley but there were certainly notes of Harvey in the vocals. I can't find her name anywhere but the vocalist also had more than a trace of Chrissise Hynde and even Siouxsie Sioux to her sound, to these old ears at least. She was also quite the beguiling frontwoman, dancing between verses in a t-shirt that proclaimed to be "Romantic Material". The rest of the band were typical Sleeperblokes, save for the lead guitarist who seemed to have styled his look on the late Darius Danesh. How's that for a topical reference? Whatever. Beguiling frontwoman or not, the poor sound in The Alcove lead me to abort early, and head off for a bit of a sit-down with a cup of tea, which I managed to do at...
- Robin Ince's Nine Lessons for Latitude : The Listening Post. This show was essentially a grab-bag of different artists, invited by Robin to do their thing for five minutes each. Our compere interspersed the "lessons" with readings of his own comic poetry. By his own admission, poetry is a new development for Ince. If I was being unkind I might say it showed. That said, some of the lessons were very good: psychologist Dr Julia Shaw was excellent on the epistemic risks of AI; comedian Toussaint Douglass got genuine belly laughs out of this recalcitrant reviewer; a Geordie singer-songwriter called Sonny someone (I didn't catch it, sorry, and the programme is no help) was also good and charmingly enthusiastic; and more besides (I wish I'd made better notes). I couldn't stay to the end though, because I wanted to secure a half-decent spot for...
- David Byrne : The Obleisk Arena. I hadn't seen Byrne live before, so wasn't entirely sure what to expect. What I hadn't dared to expect was a gig that would mark a new entry in my notional "Top Ten Gigs Ever" list. Precisely on time, and without fanfare, David and his 12-strong ensemble took to the stage, clad head to toe in matching orange. All the musicians carried their instruments, even the percussionists (of which there were four), allowing them all to be mobile, all the time. And if this wasn't enough, the backing singers danced too. In fact, the whole show was choreographed, and I genuinely marvelled at the professionalism, rehearsal and prep that must have gone into co-ordinating the movement and musicianship. To do it for one song would be impressive - to do it for a 90-minute set was nothing short of mind-blowing. And then there was the lighting... or rather, lack of lighting, at least in the conventional gig sense. Instead, the band (troop?) were lit from above and below with different colour lights throughout the show, making their orange jumpsuits stand out dramatically. There were also high-definition panoramic back-projected images to add to the visual impact, most notably the footage of ICE raids in the US as a backdrop to Life During Wartime. Between songs, David was as thoughtful, considered and articulate as you'd want him to be. Singing, he was in terrific voice, indecently good for a man of 74. And the songs... oh, the songs. Aided by his immaculate band, the setlist included Heaven, And She Was, This Must Be The Place, Psycho Killer, Life During Wartime and Once in a Lifetime, before ending with an appropriately incendiary Burning Down The House. Within the 90-minute constraint he was forced to operate I guess something had to give, so I was a little disappointed not to hear David give Road to Nowhere a run out, but honestly that was my only minor quibble for the whole gig. As the band left the stage and the arena lights came up, Brian Eno's Ascent (An Ending) was piped quietly over the PA, providing the perfect coda on which to float away from this stunning set.
And that was pretty much that. I headed back to our pre-arranged rendezvous and found three very-tired looking lads waiting for me. We trudged wearily back to the car and then made our car park exit in record time - no queueing at all. The boys all fell asleep in the car on the way home, and I was tired too, but it was worth it for a day of unexpected fun and a headline act that will live long in the memory.
A footnote: the boys all agreed that the best act they saw all day was Must Be John. Amusements Minor was also quite taken with Overpass. They even conceded that David Byrne was pretty good for an old guy...
