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He spent the next 20 minutes declaring himself to be unique to
his generation, 'sacrificing' a guitar to three major gods (nearly blinding a child in the front row
in the process), quoting William Blake, breaking his novelty mic-stand in two, repeatedly promising
to play Pristeen and "do it fucking justice" and then being booted off the stage for running over
before another note could be played. Genius.
The Lake Stage isn't, surprisingly, on the lake. It's in the main arena, whilst the stage on the
lake is, you guessed it, the On the Lake Stage. Conundrum solved, it's here we find James
Yuill with his mixer, Macbook and acoustic guitar.
Normally people carrying these items together send us running in the other direction, but
Yuill manages to hold us steady, nodding to dreamy melancholia, smiling to warm melodies and
dancing to uplifting electro.
Bursting with all the exuberance of a Ritalin-deficient clown in the family camping area, The
Go! Team were just about the most fun you could have at the main stage this year. Front woman
Ninja led a bemused audience through a barnstorming set of rock, pop, funk and everything in
between.
Ian Parton's motley crew are certainly getting
the hang of this festival lark - musicOMH saw a pretty terrified
performance at 2006's V Festival, where the band were clearly overawed
by the space - while now
the likes of Bottle Rocket, Ladyflash and Do It Alright were as
ebullient as the sun beginning to break through the crowds.
Unfortunately, you wouldn't be getting any of that cheerfulness
from earnest OC botherers Death Cab For Cutie, who are, it
seems, a serious band. Drawing heavily from their new record Death Cab managed to be both excellent
and dull as ditchwater at the same time.
It's patently obvious that DCFC
are a formidable proposition when they crank up the extended jams, but
it can't be described as fun. Eventually, there's some respite
with the poppy Soul Meets Body and Crooked Teeth, but we were left with
the distinct impression that this is a band with a wealth of talent
but a lack of focus.
Ah, Crystal Castles. Given the amount of time we've spent banging on about them live this year we
won't dwell on this set too much, but suffice to say, for the time being the riot continues. Veer to
the far right of the Sunrise arena and could see the stage. Stand at the back, a couple of yards
outside and you could as well. Stand anywhere else and it's pot luck, as a scrum of people dance and
climb over each other to get something resembling a view. It's ace, dangerous, and leaves you
wanting more.
For those who really, really, really didn't wanna, Amadou and Miriam - the so-called 'blind
couple from Mali' - give the Vampire Weekend-like interlopers a taste of the true spirit of
the (African? - ed.) continent with a festival-stopping set in the Uncut arena. After being led gently onstage by
the rest of the band, the married couple launch into the kind of spectacular poppy Afro-blues
knees-up that you'd expect in some kind of louche Parisian dive bar during the 1970s.
"Now that's how you headline!" we heard someone exclaim during Franz Ferdinand's set. True,
but perhaps their performance wasn't quite how you headline this particular festival. There was
never any doubt that they'd be damn good: a set drawn from two albums where every track could be a
single couldn't ever really fail. Even the new stuff was top class. But with the super-slick
professionalism, the familiar sing-alongs, and even the rain starting to fall across the floodlit
stage, it felt more like Reading or Glastonbury than Latitude. Not much edge, but hey, you still
gotta love the Franz.
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Latitude 2008:
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