Latitude's Byrne's Night

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 her 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...

A Latitude encore

Yes, they dye the sheep pink...

Sigh. It's a scarcely believable fifteen years since I first went to the Latitude Festival, a more plausible two since my last visit. A lot has changed in that period - it is still a multi-disciplinary festival, but music dominates more than ever - that's a shame, much as I love the music, because the variety of content is what has always made Latitude so special. It seems to get bigger every year too - when I first went, capacity was a little over 20,000; it's more than 40,000 now. And sponsorship? Barclays were all over this year's event. A necessary evil, I guess. Still, I got to go, just for the day, and since neither I nor Mrs Amusements had seen Pulp live back in the day, it was Friday we plumped for. Amusements Minor also came along for the ride. So in the manner of my festival diaries of yore, here's what we saw...

Friday:

• 
  Ed Byrne : Comedy Arena. Delays leaving home and then a queue at the gate meant we missed local band Ikarus and a recording of Radio 4's Loose Ends. So, after a quick sandwich lunch, the first act we saw proper was comedian Ed Byrne. He didn't disappoint. Sure, some of the material felt a bit safe, a bit easy - parenthood, marriage, vasectomy - but then he's 51 now, so what should we have really expected? What was evident though was just how much of a seasoned pro Ed is - his timing is impeccable, his ad libs precise, his reading of the audience spot on. This felt like a comedy masterclass at times and I would later reflect that his set was part of my Latitude Top Three.
• 
  Lime Garden : Sunrise Arena. After Ed, we schlepped across the site to what remains my various music stage, the Sunrise Arena, at the far end of the woods. Lime Garden are an all-female four-piece from Brighton who sound like they've consumed a lot of Elastica, Sleeper and Echobelly growing up. This is a good thing. Not so good were the technical issues the band had at the start of their set, to wit: "Can I get a lot more SPD in the front monitor?" I gave the bright-haired singer's slightly inaccurate vocals the benefit of the doubt on that basis, anyway. She has a stage presence though: introducing the song Popstar, she explained that it was about not wanting to work, before noting that if there were any sugar daddies in the audience, she was listening...
• 
  The New York Brass Band : Trailer Park. After a quick but much-needed cup of tea, it was a short walk through the woods to the Trailer Park to see The New York Brass Band. That's "a new brass band from up north" rather than from across the pond, by the way. What can I tell you, their big, lively sound in a very compact setting proved popular from the off. Unlike the rest of the Amusements clan who, I think, would have preferred a less densely packed audience, I would happily have listened to this for a bit longer. But then TNYBB launched into a Toploader cover (you can guess which one) and that was me done too.
• 
  The Beths : BBC Sounds Stage. After a mosey around the family area and the Faraway Forest, we made our way up to Latitude's second stage, an enormous tent named, this year, after BBC Sounds. I was particularly excited to see The Beths and, having conducted a bit of a sales pitch in the days leading up to the festival, so were the rest of the Amusements clan. Lucky for me, then, that the Kiwi indie darlings didn't disappoint. As they walked on a giant fish inflated at the back of the stage (a nod to the sleeve art from their most recent album), and then the band launched into Future Me Hates Me. For some bands this might have set too high a bar but The Beths were more than capable of maintaining that standard for the entirety of their hour-long set. For me, the band are at their best when lead singer and principal songwriter Elizabeth makes full use of her vocal range, effortlessly switching from high to low - it elevates them above other bands that, on paper, might seem quite similar. And although it's not often noticeable, I do like it when a vocal is sung with an honest accent (the chorus of Best Left becomes "bist lift to rot" in Elizabeth's hands). Other observations? Recent album opener Expert In A Dying Field was the penultimate track here, and sounded excellent. Mrs Amusements was dancing by this point, to Amusements Minor's, well, amusement. Oh, and The Beth's drummer looks very like my boss, but I digress. Either way, The Beths were a real highlight for us all, and were part two of my Latitude Top Three.
• 
  Bleach Lab : The Alcove. Mrs Amusements took a time-out at this point, preferring to sit on a fallen tree and read a book whilst The Boy and I squeezed into the back of The Alcove (a big marquee in the woods) for this. Mutterings in the crowd beforehand were all about dream-pop and shoegaze, which was exciting. And sure, listening to their Bandcamp I can see how those comparisons get made. But live? Well, the vocals lacked the ethereal qualities I associate with those genres. Musically, well, I'd say the guitarist has listened to a lot of Johnny Marr, but then haven't we all? Where we were stood, there were an awful lot of teenage boys too, attracted, I would venture, by vocalist Jenna Kyle rather than by any sudden predilection for dream pop. But again, I guess we've all been there. Whatever, this didn't do much for me, disappointingly (I'd enjoyed what I'd heard from them in my pre-festival research), so after two songs we left and scooped up Mrs NA.
• Luke Wright : The Listening Post. To be honest, we were all starting to flag a little bit by this point, so got to the next venue early for a bit of a sit down, which is how we came to catch the tail-end of poet Luke Wright. This was a nice bonus - Luke has performed at every Latitude since the year dot, so this felt like returning to a simpler, smaller festival time. Like the rest of us, Luke is getting a little older, a little heavier set. He still seems a little bit too pleased with himself as well, but that's okay, it turns what would otherwise be just a poetry reading into a performance. I guess that's the point. He ended his time on stage with the eponymous Peak from his most recent book which, like our glimpse of his set, was short and bittersweet.
• 
  Nobody Panic podcast : The Listening Post. This was essentially a recording for Tessa Coates' successful Don't Panic podcast, the gist of which seems to be Tessa discussing how to do something with various comedic guests. For this episode, there were two guests, Jess Fosketew and Shaparak Khorsandi, and they were there to discuss how to ... be good at sports. Which I wanted to listen to and like but ... it just seemed to turn into an episode of Loose Women, something I am clearly not the target audience for, and with a focus on how much they had not enjoyed PE at school. I checked my subconscious bias by asking what Mrs Amusements thought, but she didn't much like this either. To be honest though, it was warm and comfortable in the Listening Post (the only tented venue with matting on the floor) so I tried to catch a power-nap during this, mindful of the fact that I would be driving us all home in the wee small hours. I only managed about five minutes though, before Amusements Minor noticed and elbowed me awake. Hey ho. Bottom line: you might enjoy this podcast. I hope you do. But it's not for me.
• 
  Yard Act : BBC Sounds Stage. After a lovely festival dinner that involved a lot of pulled pork and no small amount of chips, NA Minor and I left Mrs Amusements at the Listening Post, and headed back to the Sounds Stage to see a band that I had high hopes for. We arrived a little early, which left me time to be intrigued by their "100% irrelevant" sign ... and then the band came on, to the sound of Enjoy Yourself by The Specials. Another good sign. But then it all went a bit wrong. Opening your set by teaching the audience their part for some call-and-response, before you've even played a note? Er, no. And then curling up into a foetal ball on stage whilst singing the (eventual) first song, so that most of the audience can't see you? Again, no. Forget the stream of consciousness semi-spoken lyrics, they may or may not be for you, that's subjective at least. But learn some stagecraft, man! Others were heard to enthuse later but for us? "He's a character," said Amusements Minor with a raised eyebrow and deadpan face, two songs in. And we left, both a little disappointed.
• 
  Pulp : The Obelisk Arena. The main stage was as packed as I can ever remember seeing it in all my years at Latitude, and there was a palpable air of excitment building from quite early on. At 9.25, the big screens either side of the stage flickered into life and announced, in hot pink on black, that we would remember this night for the rest of our lives, and that we were about to see the 534th live performance by the group Pulp. This, the screens displayed, is what we do for an encore. And as the minor chords that had accompanied these pronouncements morphed into the intro for I Spy, on came the band. It's a cliché to describe a welcome as rapturous but really, there's no other word for it. And they were straight into it, with such a full sound too, augmented for the night by the Elysian Collective string section. I'll put the setlist at the bottom of this post, but suffice to say the band played all the hits from His'n'Hers and Common People, plus some from This Is Hardcore and We Love life. The BBC's excellent review of this gig later described Jarvis as "Britpop's very own angle-poise lamp" and that is perfect, for he struck silhouetted pose after silhouetted pose, filling those big screens with his trim besuited outline, arms and hands adopting curious positions in a way that reminded me of Bowie. Jarv dedicated Something Changed to late Pulp bassist Steve Mackey and, later, bizarrely reached into his jacket pockets, produced chocolates, and threw them out into the crowd. Make no mistake, musically Pulp are a band. Theatrically, Pulp are Jarvis. For however much the screens panned to Candida on keys, or the criminally under-rated Nick on drums, it was almost impossible to take your eyes off the frontman. Ah! What else? At various points in the show there were confetti cannons, giant streamers shot out into the crowd and, during the ultimate closing anti-singalong of Common People, even a few fireworks. For me, Pink Glove, Do You Remember The First Time?, Babies, Sunrise and Underwear were highlights ... but then really, the whole set was one giant, continuous highlight, and how often can you say that about any gig? Only the inclusion of relative rarity Like A Friend, from the soundtrack to 1998's Great Expectations, threatened to briefly derail the Sheffield Express ... but really there was never any danger of that. The 20,000 (and more) people standing in a field were all squeezed into the palm of Jarvis's hand. He knew it, and so did we. The very obvious highlight of my Latitude Top Three.

And that was that. All that remained, as we surfed out of the Obelisk Arena on a euphoric cloud, was the long walk back to the car, and the long, late, tired drive home. Amusements Minor is still wearing his wristband, eight days later, Mrs Amusements got to dance and I got to fill a very important hole in my gigography. Hopefully I really will remember that night for the rest of my life...

As for Latitude, it gets bigger, more commercial, less "different" every year. But it's still pretty bloody good, as festivals go. There's already talk of getting some other families together for next year, so the kids can have some company their own age, and going en-masse for the whole event. That sounds ... interesting, I think. A very different experience, certainly. And hideously expensive too, ironically for what some consider a poor man's Glastonbury. As for me (and my wallet), I might just wait and see who the headliners are...)

Latitude... or Cinch presents a test event

It's thirteen years since I first went to the Latitude Festival, three years since I last went. A lot has changed in that period, and Latitude didn't happen last year for obvious reasons. It was back for 2021 though, as a government-approved test event... which meant full capacity, no face masks and no social distancing! All of which felt a bit weird, if I'm honest. Latitude has changed a bit too, I think - it is still a multi-disciplinary festival, but music dominates more than ever - that's a shame, much as I love the music, because the variety of content is what has always made Latitude so special. It's got bigger too - when I first went, capacity was a little over 20,000; it's 40,000 now. And sponsorship? Since when did Latitude become "Cinch presents Latitude"? As in, Cinch the used car retailer whose ads are fronted by the distressingly ubiquitous Rylan Clark-Neal... to the extent that his made-up face gurned down at the main stage crowd from the jumbotrons between acts? I guess it is progress, but it, like the loss of some non-music stages, jarred with me. What has progressed well is the festival app: when I last went, in 2018, the app was terrible and a physical programme was still an essential purchase; this year, I still bought a programme but didn't use it once - the app was near perfect. Other changes? Well, for the first time since 2009, Mrs New Amusements came with me... and for the first time ever Master New Amusements came too. This would change the festival experience in several ways, some foreseen, some surprising. But anyway, enough general rambling: here, in the manner of my old festival diaries, is what I got up to. All crappy photos can be embiggened with a click.

Friday:

• The Kids' Area. After the long trek in from the day ticket car park, proving our COVID test status (proof of two jabs for adults, negative lateral flow test for kids), getting our wristbands and finally getting onto the main site, our first stop was lunch by the waterside and the Kids' Area, mainly to get Master NA (who still wasn't sure what to expect) on-board with the whole idea of a festival. The Kids' Area has loads of great activities for the younger festival goer, but we were a bit disappointed to see that some were fully-booked by 1pm, not just for Friday but for the whole weekend. Still, there was a tent set up with a variety of musical instruments for kids to try, so Master NA and I sat down and had a guitar jam, which was nice.
• The Trailer Park. Next we worked our way up to the Trailer Park, a wooded area that was home to an assembly of steam-punk sculpture; I particularly like Carantula, a small hatchback that had been given eight legs and loomed large over visitors to this area. There was also live performance, though we arrived just as a seemingly very popular act ended.
• Esther Freud : The Listening Post. The fact that there are no longer separate book and poetry tents was slightly offset by the size of the sole replacement, The Listening Post - so big, in fact, that only the most popular authors will fill it, I'd say. It wasn't full for Esther, which is a shame as she spoke well about her latest novel I Couldn't Love You More and her writing process.
• Jessica Fostekew : Comedy Arena. Whilst the rest of the New Amusements clan had a bit of a breather, I popped into the Comedy Arena to see who was on, and it was Jessica. She had a nice routine about gender stereotypes, on how "to grow a pair" (of balls) is to be strong, and how "to be a pussy" is to be weak. She also took aim at Boris Johnson, guaranteeing a good reaction from the left-leaning, liberal Latitude crowd. And on meditation, Jessica offered the line, "If you've got time for meditation, you're not the one who needs meditation," which, at the time, I felt was worthy of noting down.
• 
  Colin Macleod : Sunrise Arena. Colin is a part-time crofter, part-time singer/songwriter from Lewis in the Outer Hebrides. He and his band trade in an agreeable, if slightly unremarkable, brand of Celtic folk rock, maybe with a twist of Americana; unremarkable maybe, but perfect for mid-afternoon in the woods. A lot of the songs seem to have isolation or separation as their theme, not surprising given Colin's remote home and lifestyle. An affable, easy-going frontman, at one point Colin quipped "I've been stuck on an island for two years," to which someone in the audience, as quick as a flash, replied, "So have we."
• 
  Before Breakfast : BBC Music Introducing Stage. One of the best things about Latitude, or indeed any large festival, is the joy of a serendipitous find. Example: after Colin, we wandered up to the In The Woods area (where I found the best, and cheapest, cup of tea I had all day) and the adjacent BBC Introducing stage, where Sheffield's Before Breakfast were on. Not your average girl band, Before Breakfast feature voice, piano, cello and bass. Close vocal harmonies are clearly important to their sound, as is the strength and performance instincts of their lead singer, Gina. Brush My Hair (and tell me that you love me) seems a very representative track, if you're interested.
• 
  The Snuts : The Sunrise Arena. NA Minor and I headed back to the Sunrise Arena next, to take in The Snuts. I'd heard a fair bit about them, mostly from the periodical emails I get from Parlophone, but I was completely unfamiliar with their music <<insert traditional comment about being old and parochial here>>. And what a great surprise they served up! Their lively sound, light show and between-songs interaction (especially from fast-talking frontman Jack Cochrane) all suggest they could, perhaps should have been playing a bigger stage. Whatever, the Sunrise Arena was rammed for this. Definitely worth further investigation, I shall be starting with their chart-topping debut album WL (which apparently stands for West Lothian, from whence they come). This was my personal performance highlight.
• Women's Prize for Fiction : The Listening Post. We then scooted back to rejoin Mrs NA in the book tent, where a panel session on the Women's Prize for Fiction was in full flow. We'd missed a fair bit of this, obviously, but as an aspiring author I still found the later questions on writing process to be interesting, as well as the book recommendations.
• 
  Stephen Fretwell : The Sunrise Arena. I was really keen to see Stephen, and I wasn't alone - the Sunrise Arena was even more packed than it had been for The Snuts. I think, judging by their reaction, that most of the crowd were long-time fans too. One man and an acoustic guitar is a lot to fill an arena, even one as compact as Sunrise, but Fretwell was equal to the task. Run, familiar to even non-fans thanks to Gavin & Stacey, provided a bit of audience singalong, whilst calls from the audience for the sublime Emily and New York were both granted. Ironic, really, that Stephen apologised for dropping the f-bomb between songs, mindful of kids in the audience, and then ended with New York, with its "Fuck what they say..." chorus. Long-time readers may even recall that I made New York a Clandestine Classic, back in the day, so I was especially glad to hear that get an airing. I may have had a bit of a moment.
• Secret Artists live podcast : The Listening Post. I left the clan getting henna patterns done and went off to see John Osborne, but got there early enough to catch the tail-end of Annie McGrath doing her Secret Artists podcast live. The gist of this seemed to be that Annie would be in conversation with a guest - in this case, comedian Sophie Duker - whilst they both painted their interpretation of a given title or theme. What I saw of this was fun. Probably not fun enough to make me subscribe to the podcast, but fun nonetheless.
• John Osborne : The Listening Post. I've read two of John's books, Radio Head and The Newsagent's Window, and enjoyed both (especially the latter, which is Dave Gorman-esque, in a good way), but he was reading poetry at Latitude, dipping into his previous collection No One Cares About Your New Thing and promoting his new collection, Supermarket Love Stories, in which the poems are aisle-themed. He's excellent, funny, insightful, self-deprecating. I met him briefly afterwards, to buy a copy of No One Cares... and was pleased to see poet Luke Wright emerge from somewhere to give him a hug, before turning to then greet and hug comedian Mark Watson, who just happened to be strolling by. Oh, the author's life I will never lead...
• 
  Mabel : The Obelisk Arena. I'll be honest, before this I was sceptical - had Mabel done enough, I wondered, to warrant being the penultimate act on the main stage? Would she even be anywhere, I uncharitably hypothesised, if she was not Neneh Cherry's daughter? Well, I still think those are valid questions, but I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. We were only there as a nod to Master NA's youth, and it's telling that the Latitude crowd noise was more of a scream than a roar, but Mabel put on a really dynamic, lively show, augmented by a well-drilled dance troupe. And she can really sing too, even if it was sometimes a bit Beyonce-lite for my taste. She finished with her bigest hits (ahem, as far as I know), Tick Tock and finally, with confetti canons unleashed, Don't Call Me Up; even parochial old dinosaur me was able to join in with the chorus for that.
• 
  Wolf Alice : The Obelisk Arena. And so we came to the reason I had bought day tickets for Friday rather than over the weekend. I had seen Wolf Alice play the same stage three years ago, but here they were headlining, and with a new, more mature album to promote. I was excited. Unfortunately, the rest of our little party were less enthralled, finding the band too loud and a bit too strident. Also, NA Minor was starting to flag - it had been a long day on our feet, and we'd covered a lot of ground. The bottom line is that we moved on after twenty minutes, just as Ellie and the band were starting to get on to the new material. What I can tell you is that the new song I heard was darker, slower, less strident... very promising.
• 
  Hot Chip : BBC Sounds Stage. I remember when this used to the BBC 6Music stage ...grumble, grumble, old, old, progress, progress... Anyway, I hoped that a blast of Putney's finest, and the spectacle of a large crowd bobbing up and down in a giant tent, would reinvigorate the New Amusements ensemble. It didn't, sadly, and we lasted a song and a half, which is a shame because the band looked to be warming up nicely. NA Minor is not even at high school yet though, and this was a step too far for him, on a long day - he didn't want the crowd, or the volume, or the chest-vibrating bass. We bailed out, and like the good dad I am I didn't even moan about it. Not aloud, anyway.

And that was that. Because we set off on the long walk back to the car park nice and early, we even beat the traditional queue of departing day-ticketers, so that was a bonus. But what to make of Latitude 2021? Seventeen months since my last gig, it felt great to be there, even if a little surreal to be amongst such a large crowd of people, and with not a face mask in sight. COVID did have an impact though, with some acts having to cancel at the last minute: Fontaines D.C. and Arlo Parks both had to scrub from the Saturday line-up, after positive test results.

Also, I bristled somewhat at the inevitable commercialisation and sponsorship that is creeping into this, my favourite festival, and the inevitable attendant mainstreaming of the line-up... but it's still a grand day out, even though I didn't get to see everything I would have liked: I didn't see any theatre or film shows, for example, and missing the bulk of both Wolf Alice and Hot Chip seems wasteful at best. Going with my family made it a very different festival experience... my last four visits have been alone, and that's great for seeing exactly what you want to see, but it does make it hard to share the experience. This was better, much better. Master NA proclaimed it a brilliant day. I hope we are all there next year.

Wide shot of Obelisk Arena headliners Wolf Alice

Latitude 2018 - delicious

It's ten years since I first went to the Latitude Festival, three years since I last went. I've changed a lot in that period, and so has Latitude. I went again this year, just for a day on Sunday. For the first time, my choice of ticket was driven by the undercard, rather than the headliner. How did I get on, in the scorched dust bowl of Henham Park, you might wonder? With the festival app that was so buggy and crash-happy that I forked out a tenner for the programme book instead? Well here, in the manner of my old festival diaries, is what I got up to. All photos can be embiggened with a click.

Sunday:

• Dylan Moran : Comedy stage. I haven't seen Dylan live before, so I don't know if the whole "doesn't have an act" schtick is an act or, you know, the act, but it doesn't matter because the whole seemingly disjointed, free-associative delivery really works. Moran riffed on the Internet, technology, relationships, gender, giving up alcohol and a whole lot more. Struck a chord.
• 
  Richard Ayoade in conversation with Mark Kermode : Film and Television arena. I don't mind Kermode, and am a huge fan of Ayoade, so was not going to miss this, even though this was the hottest, most crowded tent I was in the whole festival, so much so that there was a mild rebellion in the audience when the organisers tried to cram even more people in. Mark and Richard discussed the genre classic Roadhouse, Richard's book The Grip Of Film, his film adaptations of Submarine and The Double, Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, even The IT Crowd, before opening up for an audience Q&A. This over-ran, and nobody minded in the least.
• 
  Hannah Peel : BBC Music stage. A cool, breezy tent after the heat of the previous session, but the relaxed atmosphere was spoiled a little by the volume. I don't want to sound like Huey Lewis in Back To The Future but it was just too darned loud, and I put my gig-plugs in. I know, I know. Hannah reaches for a dreamy, ethereal sound, surrounded by a bank of keyboards, with just a drummer to fill out the sound. Name-checking Paul Buchanan and The Blue Nile might give a hint of Hannah's style, but her most effective moment was a cover of Tainted Love accompanied only by a hand-wound music box, playing from a punched card, even if she struggled to hear this over the thump of the main stage. And then, to prove her many talents, Hannah whipped out a violin for her closing track.
• 
  Reasons to be Cheerful podcast live, with Geoff Lloyd and Ed Miliband : The Speakeasy. After a relaxed and much needed cup of tea and slice of cake from the Greenpeace tent, it was off to see Geoff and Ed attempt to record a live podcast in what used to be called the Literature Arena. Geoff and Ed were beset by technical problems at first, especially with the microphones - Ed tried to compensate for this by geeing the crowd up at every opportunity. But once everything settled down, they brought out their first guest, a scientist called Simon (sorry, I didn't make a note of his surname) to talk about the Anthropocene. Sadly, this was the cue for some in the crowd to bail out. And when Simon pointed out that, because of climate change, the recent heatwave will be common and persistent by 2050, a sunburnt couple in front of me turned to give each other a gurning thumbs-up. This is what we're up against. And the disconcerting facts came thick and fast after that - a estimated three trillion trees have been lost during man's time on the planet; we have produced enough concrete to cover the entire Earth in a layer 2mm thick, and enough plastic to clingfilm the planet. I don't know about reasons to be cheerful, but there were certainly reasons to be thoughtful. As for Ed Miliband ... well, I went to this to see what he was like when he was just being himself, not scripted, not media-schooled, not spun. And you know what? He seems a bit more engaging, more natural, more real. I think this version of Ed would attract more votes than the one that was wheeled out against Cameron.
• 
  Sleeper : the Obelisk Arena (main stage). For the first time, my choice of which day to attend Latitude was driven, not by the headliner, but by an act lower on the bill because yes, I was very keen to see the reformed and re-energised Sleeper. Like a million other indie boys, I was a little bit in love with Louise Wener back in the mid 90s, and you never forget your first loves, do you? And she and her Sleeperblokes (original guitarist and drummer, Jon and Andy, and new bassist Kieron [ex-Prodigy touring band], plus supplementary guitarist, saxophonist and keyboards) did not disappoint. There were most of the hits from back in the day (Delicious, What Do I Do Now?, Nice Guy Eddie, Inbetweener, Sale Of The Century, and more) plus some interesting covers: a mix of Blondie's Atomic and Joy Division's Love Will Tear Us Apart was particularly ambitious, but well executed. Feeling Peaky seguéd into Lou Reed's Satellite Of Love nicely too, a song that really suits Louise's voice. And yes, I guess I'm still a little bit in love with Louise. Dressed in her Super Her t-shirt, she thought she should tell us, as this was World Cup final day, that she was born on the day England won the World Cup. So yes, she's 52. I'm happy to report that she still bounces the same on stage, though maybe not quite so high. Anyway. Sleeper are recording a new album, funded through PledgeMusic - you can and should back them here.
• Grace Savage : The Speakeasy. After a quick bite to eat, I made my way back to The Speakeasy and, by virtue of them running late, caught the tail end of Grace Savage. Apparently she has been British beatbox champion four times but, on this evidence, there is more to her than that. She sings original compositions which, although not my cup of tea, were very listenable. Especially since I was sat down, with an actual cup of tea. She also engaged brilliantly with the audience, and had the yoof dancing at the front, no mean achievement in what is basically the book tent. One to watch, I would say, especially if I was 35 years younger.
• Adam Kay - This Is Going To Hurt : The Speakeasy. It was Adam that I actually came to the Speakeasy to see. Adam was an obs & gynae ("parts and labour") doctor in a large hospital, before a series of events that I won't describe (no spoilers) led him to quit. He has since turned his old reflective learning log into a best-selling book, that shines a light both comedic and tragic on the state of acute care in the NHS, and the pressures on junior doctors. Adam read excerpts from the book, interspersed with comedy medical songs - well-known tunes to which Adam has put funny, medical lyrics. This works well, and he is clearly a talented pianist, if not a great singer. He ended with reading the last entry from that reflective learning log which recounts the tipping point that caused him to walk away, at which point the laughs stopped and Adam began an impassioned defence of junior doctors, and a scathing attack on the politicians who seek to destroy the NHS. This got the biggest cheer of all. I bought his book afterwards, got it signed and shook his hand.
• 
  Wolf Alice : the Obelisk Arena (main stage). Hanging on to meet Adam Kay made me late for Wolf Alice, so they were well into their stride when I arrived. And man, were they loud! The bass reached inside my chest and reaarranged some organs! Okay, so my hearing is going to hell in a hand-basket, but the subterranean bass emanating from Wolf Alice made me fear for the hearing of the children further forward than me, with no ear-defenders. But anyway. Ellie Rowsell made for an engaging front-woman in her floaty white damsel dress and loosely laced Doc's. The Jumbotrons at either side of the stage also revealed that Ellie was wearing a claddagh ring, but I couldn't remember whether the way she was wearing it meant she was in a relationship or looking for one. Either way, she was on fire, sitting on the edge of the stage for a quieter number, wigging out with the rest of the band for Giant Peach, in this, their first appearance on the main stage having debuted at Latitude five years earlier. Guitarist Joff Oddie worked his way through a series of seemingly identical Fender Jaguars, one of which he throttled rather than played. As Giant Peach faded out into a wall of looping feedback and blue lights, Rowsell picked up sweary bassist Theo Ellis and spun him around - Wolf Alice's work was done. Awesome.
• 
  Gabrielle Aplin : BBC Music stage. I arrived at the second stage just in time to see Aplin perform her breakout track, the former Christmas ad-soundtracking cover of Frankie's The Power Of Love. It was an undeniably powerful performance, undiminished by familiarity, with Gabrielle spotlit from above. Meaning no disrespect to her more than capable band, this was a hard act to follow - for my money, Aplin is better suited to stripped back, solo songs rather than those with the full band treatment. This was well evidenced on set closer Fool's Love - a perfectly adequate track but it felt like Aplin was stretching, whereas her interpretation of others' songs seemed more relaxed.
• Rob Kemp - The Elvis Dead : The Speakeasy. Headliners Alt-J weren't ever going to do it for me. I know. I'm an old man, with parochial music taste - you've got me, well done. Anyway, that's how I came to be in The Speakeasy for the end of my day at Latitude, watching comedian Rob Kemp dramatise scenes from The Evil Dead 2, by singing suitably lyric-changed versions of Elvis songs as clips from the movie played on a screen behind him. So "Devil In Disguise" became "Dead Eye In Disguise", and so on. You get the idea. It might sound odd, but it really works, and was very funny. A fine end to a hot, tiring day.

And that was that. Because I didn't stay for every note of the headliner, for once I had no problem getting out of the car-park and was home at a decent time. So what did I make of Latitude 2018? Is it still essential festival fare? Well... yes. I think so. It's a wonderful event, and the multi-media format, embracing books, film, theatre and more, as well as music, makes it stand out. Would I have liked a headliner that I felt compelled to see? Yes, of course. And would I have liked my hearing to be in better shape, to enjoy the louder bands without gig plugs? Again, of course. But I chose a Sunday ticket to see Sleeper, and they exceeded all expectations. I was also keen to get to know Wolf Alice better, and was bowled over by their performance. The bottom line is this - there is something for everyone, every day, at Latitude. It is impossible not to enjoy yourself there.

I'll leave you with a video or three.

Latitude - "like a Guardian readers' convention"

This year marks ten years of the Latitude Festival. Having gone yesterday, I can say that I've been, in part or in whole, to half of them (the other four being 2008, 2009, 2012 and 2014). It's changed a bit in that time - it's a bit bigger, with a few more stages, and a bit more corporate (yurts sponsored by Pepsi Max, anyone?) but essentially remains the best (and most manageable) multi-disciplinary festival. I've changed a bit too. Now I know that going on your own isn't the ideal way to experience a festival but that was also the case in 2012 and 2014 as well, and did I enjoy myself as much yesterday as I have in previous years? No. Were there moments when I wished I was somewhere else? Yes. Did I, as on every previous occasion, leave last night with a burning desire to buy an album or a book by someone I hadn't heard/read previously but had discovered as Latitude? No. So, will I be going next year...? Probably not...but you never know. Depends who the headliners are. Anyway, whilst not reaching the heights of past glories, my day in the scorched dustbowl of Henham Park was still a good one. Here, in the best tradition of my old festival diaries, is what I saw.

Sunday:

• Nina Conti : Cabaret stage. The only time all day I couldn't get in somewhere, so I watched Nina through a tent flap. As I might have written before, I'm a big fan of Nina and whilst her vent sidekick Monkey is where she's most comfortable, the biggest laughs of her set were reserved for making puppets of a whole family, strapping them into prosthetic mouths and them giving them all distinct voices. I know I haven't described that very well, so if the distant pic of Nina doing this with the family's mum comes out okay I'll add it to this post later so you can see what I mean.
• Cobain: Montage Of Heck : Film & TV Arena. It might seem like a wasteful use of precious festival time to spend over an hour and a half watching a film but I missed this at the cinema and was keen to catch it whilst I could. And what an excellent film it is, making extensive use of rich archive material, interspersed with animated versions of Kurt's notebooks and interviews with most (though not all - Dave Grohl is largely absent) of the key players in this tale. Mum, dad, stepmother, girlfriend, wife - they all get a chance to have their say, and deflect blame from themselves. My only slight issue was with the use of animation based on Kurt's notebooks and doodles, specifically that there was no indication that the source material was contemporaneous to the issue it was being used to illustrate.
• Eddie Argos : Poetry Arena. Lead man with Art Brut, Eddie's show was called something along the lines of How To Make It In A Band, but it was really just a stream of consciousness series of anecdotes about being in lots of bands, and having a mild whiff of success. It was quite funny in places though.

• The Boomtown Rats : Obelisk Arena. Fair play to Sir Bob and the boys for not just delivering a greatest hits set. Unsurprisingly though, those hits were the only songs to really energise the crowd - the less well-known material, at times, veered too close to self-indulgence. But fair play, again, to Bob for suitably Geldofian crowd interaction: having drawn attention to his "pretend snakeskin suit", he proceeded to lambast the audience for their "crap t-shirts and weekend shorts", concluding that we were "dressed liked cunts". And I can't deny, he had a point.
• Too Much Information : Wellcome Trust Hub. On my way to the smaller of the Greenpeace tents for the best value tea and cake on site, I popped into the Faraway Forest and found the Wellcome Trust Hub (you see, so corporate) and listened to some academics talk about stress and how information overload is contributing. It was shady, quiet and uncrowded - I felt my own festival stress drop away. I also learnt that extreme childhood trauma creates a trajectory for higher stress response throughout life, so how you handle the rough stuff isn't just genetic, it's a product of your early life. So early, in fact, that pregnant mothers exposed to extreme stress are unknowingly skewing the stress response of their as-yet unborn offspring, making them less able to deal with it. Who knew?
• Young Fathers : BBC 6Music stage. I went to see these on the strength of their description in the festival programme and implicit 6Music endorsement, but I knew this wasn't for me within half a song. Shame.
• Susanne Sundfør : i Arena. Having bombed out of the 6Music stage much earlier than expected, I stumbled off into the woods in search of something interesting. And I found it: Susanne is from Norway, has a superb, soaring voice and an endearing stage presence. At first I wasn't overly enamoured with the synth-pop backing - it seemed a little too strident - but I persevered, moved a little bit further back into the trees, and listened to Susanne's entire set whilst collecting my thoughts.
• Jason Manford : Comedy Arena. I'm not a huge fan of Manford, but as I was passing I stuck my head in. Latitude has learnt its lesson from years gone by, and the Comedy tent is now massive - gone are the days of as many people listening in from outside as there are in the tent. Anyway, part of the reason I didn't warm to Manford is that he seems a tiny bit too pleased with the success he's had - I lost count of the subtle references to DVD recordings and how a tented festival show is very different to playing large theatres or doing television. His best material came at the end - whilst hardly original, he got big laughs, even from your curmudgeonly reviewer, from the rich comic seam of his young children, and his successes (and failures) in parenting them.
• Pippa Evans : Cabaret stage. As an antidote to the One Show comedy of Manford, Pippa's "There Are No Guilty Pleasures" show was a comic delight. Comedy, songs... comedic songs, Pippa does it all. And gets out into the crowd to absolve the audience of their guilty pleasure sins at the end of the show. Recommended.

• Manic Street Preachers : Obelisk Arena. I wonder how often the Manics play a festival but aren't the headliners? Whatever, this was the reason I had chosen Sunday for my day ticket, so it is with a degree of reluctance that I report the Manics were okay, bordering on really good, but no better. Dare I even say that their set and performance seemed a bit perfunctory at times? They rattled through plenty of hits (opening with Motorcycle Emptiness, closing with Design For Life, and Everything Must Go, You Love Us and lots more in-between. Sure, James and Nicky bounced up and down a bit, but it just seemed a bit... MSP by numbers. Maybe I should have got nearer the stage, it might have seemed a bit different. Side note - I watched someone make their way from the back of the arena right to the front, during Motorcycle Emptiness, holding a banner that read "You know nothing Jon Snow." Any ideas, anyone?
• Mark Billingham and My Darling Clementine : Literature Arena. What happens when you mix a popular crime novelist with a country and western duo? This is what happens. Mark was reading from his latest, and it was interspersed with songs from My Darling Clementine. C&W isn't really my thing, but I've read a disproportionate amount of Billingham's output, and this was pleasant enough. It didn't make me want to seek out the new book though, if that's what it was, primarily because it didn't feel authentic - in a departure for Billingham, here he's writing about the US, not the UK, and he just doesn't know it enough. Casual references to Walmart and "having a soda" just seem a bit...obvious? Tired? Clichéd?
• Roni Size Reprazent : Film & TV Arena. Now this is not my usual cup of tea, which is ironic given that I only happened upon Roni et al whilst queueing to get a cuppa. The tent was rammed, and lots of people were watching through the open doors because the energy that was pouring forth was palpable. So too was the effect the music was having on the crowd inside the tent, for it was simply a sea of writhing limbs, pulsing under a kinetic light-show. Quite incredible to behold, and more than enough to make me overcome my Pavlovian response and stop to listen. A real bonus.
• Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds : Obelisk Arena. With a pleasing symmetry, my drive to the festival had been accompanied by Noel's Desert Island Discs on Radio 4, during which I was impressed not only by his taste in music but also by how affable he has become, and how thoughtful too. Measured, almost. I can't say I've bought either album by The High Flying Birds, so I was intrigued to read the most recent is the UK's best selling album on 2015 so far. And actually, on the basis of this show, I can see why. I was also surprised to see kids who weren't even around at the time singing along to old Oasis tracks. Like their contemporaries, Blur and Pulp, it seems that Oasis really have entered the collective national consciousness in a way that might have seemed unlikely in the mid Nineties. Even so, it was mostly people my age bellowing along with Champagne Supernova, Half A World Away and Masterplan. Even Digsy's Dinner got an airing. Set closer Don't Look Back In Anger was the highpoint though, as set closers usually are, and I don't regret staying to hear every note. Noel was funny too, engaging really well with the audience, and knowingly mocking Latitude as being "like a Guardian readers' convention". Which, of course, it is. Anyway...Noel and his Birds flew higher than I'd expected, and were by far the best thing I saw all day.

Noel adopts his best Pete Townshend pose

And that was that. Because I stayed for every last note, I was far from the first person back to the car park, and so set a new personal worst (1 hour 20 minutes) for getting out. But that's okay. I caught up with a bit more Radio 4 before switching to Janice Long on Radio 2. God, I'm just a Latitude programmer's dream, aren't I? Which makes it all the more surprising that I'm not sure if I'll go next year. Sure, I still cannot think of a better festival, genuinely. But either this year's programme wasn't as good as in years gone by (maybe because there are just so many festivals these days, and not enough quality acts to go around?) or I've lost a bit of my festival mojo... come back next July to find out which.

"Latitude - the Waitrose of festivals"

Much as I'd like to, I can't do the full Latitude experience any more. I went in 2008 and 2009, and found it to be the best of festivals. I really liked the look of the line-up in 2010 but couldn't make it. I did, however, manage a day in 2012, with the mighty Weller headlining. And I managed a day again this year, with a certain Mr Albarn (right) as my excuse to go. Here, then, in the best tradition of my old festival diaries, is what I saw.

Saturday:

• Teen : i Arena. A long queue getting into the car park meant I missed my first intended port of call, Jack Dee's Help Desk. Instead, I listened to the sweet harmonies and twisty bass of Teen, a female four-piece from Brooklyn. Their band name may be awful, but they sound lush and smooth - an unexpected, pleasant surprise.
• Luke Wright : Poetry Arena. Luke used to be in a band (Dorian Gray) and it shows in his stagecraft and wannabe rockstar swagger. Poetry highlights included The Bastard of Bungay and, especially, Dad Reins, during which I may have got something in my eye. He concluded his set with a poem in a garage style, for which he was joined by musical collaborator Laura Stimson - poetry, comedy and music, all at once!
• Rag 'n' Bone Man : Lake Stage. From the write-up in the Latitude programme, I was expecting a sort of Seasick Steve, but with a more contemporary backing. Well, the contemporary backing bit was right but The Rag 'n' Bone Man himself, a mountain of a man with a mountainous voice to match, reminded me more of CeeLo Green. The stage felt a bit empty, as he performed with just a drummer and a backing track, and his take on House Of The Rising Sun felt a bit hit and miss but anyway, Rag 'n' Bone Man was very keen to stress that you can download tracks from his album for free at Soundcloud... here's a link so you can make up your own mind.
• Booker T. Jones : Obelisk Arena. Yes, you read that right, soul legend and multi-instumentalist, Booker T. Jones. Mannish Boy was a highlight, perfectly suited to his now-grizzled bluesman credentials. Of course, he did Green Onions too, from his days with the MGs. He also covered Take Me To The River, introducing it by saying it was written just around the corner from his house by two friends of his, Al Jackson (MGs drummer) and one Al Green. Music history, right there. I was less certain about his cover of Hey Joe, but Booker T's sideman filled the Hendrix shoes, just. He really got the crowd going with Soul Limbo (aka the theme from Test Match Special - yes, really) before closing with Time Is Tight. Peerless stuff, a pleasure and a privilege to see one of the old school still doing his thing.
• Liam Williams : Cabaret Arena. Just caught a bit of Liam's set in passing. Slightly unusually for stand-up, Liam had a quiet accordion track playing in the background as he delivered his pathos-laden, tragi-comic "anti-lad" routine. His meditation on the value, or otherwise, of Wetherspoons pubs was interesting. His best line though was this: "When I'm 40 my wife won't divorce me, she'll just decide she doesn't love me very much."
• Mark Thomas : Theatre. The longest queue of the day was to squeeze into the 500-seat Theatre tent to see comedian and activist Mark Thomas perform his new, hour-long solo show Cuckooed. There were plenty of laughs but plenty of seriousness too, as Mark detailed how a personal friend and fellow activist turned out to be a spy, no less, paid (though not even handsomely) by BAE Systems to infiltrate the anti arms trade movement. Despite the weight of the subject (and the stupefying heat of the tent), Mark held the audience rapt, prowling the stage and interacting with interview clips of fellow activist friends. Over the course of the show, the poor guy soaked through his shirt, a dark ring working its way down from his neck to his waist - that's how hot it was. But it was well worth it, another real highlight. And he coined the "Waitrose of festivals" phrase too.
• Oliver Wilde : Lake Stage. An unintended bonus, purely because my intended next stop - James - had been postponed for a day, owing to missed flights. What can I tell you about Oliver Wilde? Not too much, to be honest. Wilde describes him own sound as "Downer pop? Tinsel rock maybe? Lo-fi glitchtronica?” All of that seems fair enough but, for me, it was a bit bland (possibly because I was still gutted at missing Tim Booth et al), but nevertheless provided an adequate accompaniment to eating churros in the late afternoon sunshine.
• Mark Watson : Comedy Arena. I've wanted to see Mark live for a long time; he didn't disappoint. Just as well really, as 6.30pm gave me a three-way timetable clash and I forsook seeing First Aid Kit on the main stage and Sheffield's finest in "Pulp: a film about love, death and supermarkets", in favour of the Comedy Arena. Conducting his show from the centre of the crowd, Mark's set (I can't really call it a routine because so much of it was improvised, and therefore far from routine) lasted well over the allotted half an hour but the time whistled by (always a good sign). Riffing on whatever seemed to catch his attention, Mark was equal parts energy and honesty - far from off limits, his past drinking to excess was mined extensively to dark comic effect. He also reprised his Bouncy Castle song, which got a big laugh too. How I wish I could have been at Latitude on Sunday too, for Mark's book reading...
• Gavin Osborn : The Little House. After grabbing some tea from the smaller Greenpeace tent (top festival tip: charity tents sell cheaper fare than commercial food concessions, and with shorter queues), I popped into the tiny Little House to see Gavin Osborn. He sounded a bit croaky (too much booze and fags, by his own admission) but still did his thing with aplomb. A singer-songwriter in the style of Billy Bragg (witness the self-confessed rip-off homage to (Waiting For) The Great Leap Forwards at the start of the excellent Left Side From My Right), Osborn adds a little more humour than Bragg to the mixture of pop, politics and love songs. The tiny crowd (60 in the Little House and a healthy gaggle crowded outside the open door), myself included, lapped it up.
• Damon Albarn : Obelisk Arena. The big kahoona, and the main reason I'd stumped up for a day ticket in the first place. I've seen Blur live twice, in '91 and '94, but never in their later years, and although I'd heard a few solo Albarn tracks on TV I haven't heard the whole Everyday Robots album - all in all, I wasn't sure what to expect. Relief then, to see that Damon has lost none of his frontman/showman skills, even if the band behind him (The Heavy Seas) are different. After a concise intro from Steve Lamacq, Damon was off and running and, fair play to him, he even had a woman signing the lyrics in the corner of the big screens (and dancing awkwardly during music-only middle-eights) - a nice touch. But what of the music? Some Gorillaz and The Good, The Bad and The Queen tracks crept in amongst the solo material, but the biggest cheers of the evening were reserved for the Blur tracks. Out Of Time and All Your Life were performed by just Damon at the piano, as was encore-opening End Of A Century (augmented by a lone trumpet solo). Then, as the lightning and storm clouds that had been circling throughout his set finally let rip above the arena, Damon said, "There are some Blur songs I can sing on the piano, but this is one that's impossible to do without the man I wrote it with: Graham Coxon." On walked Graham to join Damon and the band for a joyous, anthemic Tender. The crowd were soaked in less than a minute but I for one didn't care a bit. This felt a bit special. Graham didn't stick around though, or say goodbye - he just hugged Damon and ruffled his hair before exiting stage left. The appearance of rapper Kano during Clint Eastwood felt a bit anti-climatic after that, if I'm honest, as did the full choir on-stage for Mr Tembo. Tender should have been the last track, I reckon, but if it had then those that left early to avoid the downpour (or beat the car-park exit queue) would have missed out. Bottom line though - it must be difficult to compete with one of the most spectacular lightning shows I've ever seen, but Damon did okay. His solo show is definitely worth seeing, should you get the chance. Oh, and there are some good photos of Graham with Damon on the NME website - my pic of them is blurry because of the heavy rain.

And that was that. I had intended to see Robin Ince's late show in the Literary Arena after Damon - experience tells me this would have let the queue of day-trippers exiting the car park clear - but I was soaked to the skin, and Literature, like every other tent, was stuffed to the gills with festival-goers seeking refuge from the rain. So I joined the car park exodus, and over the next hour crawled the 200 yards out of the field... at least the windscreen made a fine picture window onto that incredible (and incredibly sustained) lightning display.