Photo: Olga Bas
What is it about the intricate micro-climate of tents that you spend most of the night freezing your tits off, and then by 8am you’re suddenly being cooked alive? Up early and supping on coffee like it’s the elixir of life, we roll out of our respective tents and back into the Apollo tent on Saturday in time to see Iain Woods and the Psychologist. Theirs is an innovative mix of soul and dance, the young golden-haired Woods flanked by pre-recorded beats and two violinists, if only they could get a look in. All eyes are on Woods, gyrating semi-clad, covered in green body paint, and singing like his life depends on it.
Josh Weller, on the other hand, is so slick and stylised he’s a little hard to grasp. There’s plenty of cocky charm in his set on the smaller Galileo stage, and everyone’s dancing by the end of it, but quiffs and a cockney accent will pigeonhole a musician if they’re not careful, and Weller errs on this parodic side of pop.
Cleaner toilets, a recycling system that actually works, friendlier faces: there are plenty of advantages to the smaller festival. But the perhaps the best part to only having three stages just strides from each other to choose from is that you inevitably end up discovering new artists. It’s pot luck in the daytime, and first discovery Flashguns turns out to be a massive miss, generic indie riffs swallowed down with gulps of cider before attention-deficit gets the better of us and we wander off. On the flip side, Mothlite are ones to keep your eye on. Embracing the digital age by doing away with guitars in favour of all manner of pedals and effects, this four-piece explore moody, expansive soundscapes concocted by soundtrack man Daniel O’Sullivan. It’s loud (turn it down Mr Soundman!), but it’s bloody good too, so we stick it out.
Saturday brings with it the dress-up competition, and as the day draws on, ever stranger creatures begin to appear in the Herfordshire fields. There’s an impressive set of Clangers, the cast of Button Moon, and numerous Ziggy Stardusts and unidentified aliens. The winner is announced on the mainstage not long before the main event, Friendly Fires. From relative obscurity to silver-certified album and Mercury Prize nomination in little more than a year, you’d think these home boys would have quite a bit to smile about. Their headline set pulls in the whole festival crowd, everyone’s been talking about it all day, and the ready punters are itching to dance. So why are the band so miserable? There’s no doubting why Friendly Fires have come so far – the set is a smooth-running, brass-bothering pop-operation so well polished that it convinces effortlessly – but there’s no need to look so serious, lads!
