FRIDAY
‘Phwoar, what a scorcher’ goes the usual tabloid headline, but today it’s allowed. Suffolk temperatures are almost hitting thirty degrees and obviously creating delirium as we rather enjoyed the summery sounds of The Leisure Society in the sunshine despite being told by everyone else that they were ‘rubbish’. Ah well. No one could dispute the quality of London’s Luke Sital-Singh on the Lake Stage, however. A talented young man with a stunning voice, it’s a simple guitar and voice set up, but he’s definitely one to watch.
Willy Mason has done it all before, he’s just looking a bit older and a bit fatter. Still a fine troubadour, Oxygen and We Can Be Strong are the first big singalongs of the weekend and he turns out to be a genuine highlight, despite looking like an uninspiring booking at first. It turns out to be an afternoon of singer-songwriters as old Caledonian favourite Malcolm Middleton is over at the iArena. We’re All Going To Die was – and probably will remain – the peak of his nationwide profile but he’s well received with A Brighter Beat and Blue Plastic Bags greeted like old friends. There’s a strong wit to new songs, albeit of an increasingly self deprecating manner – there’s a few mutters of “miserable bastard” as we troop away, but that’s probably exactly what he wants.
Something’s eating at John Grant. The audience can’t really tell the difference, but the frustrated gestures offered by Grant and his band shows dissatisfaction with the sound set up, the same problem which led to a ten minute delay. While the beats on the likes of Black Belt sound huge and Marz holds the same beauty as on record, there’s an abrupt finish and Grant’s demeanour detracts from the performance.
There are no such hassles back on the main stage as US alternative legends Yo La Tengo slouch through a full hour of music. As with their records, there’s a schizophrenic feel to the set, veering from light near-balladry to big wig outs, with Fade’s opener Ohm standing out. But nothing can prepare the crowd for the kraut-y Pass the Hatchet, I’m Think I’m Godkind from 2006’s excellent I Am Not Afraid Of You And I Will Beat Your Ass. It’s outrageously heavy with Ira Kaplan mauling his guitar throughout. Many in the crowd are left somewhat terrified, or at least yearning for some earplugs.
In the same spot, Cat Power‘s looking ready for action with a beached blonde barnet, but a re-arranged version of The Greatest (it’s almost unrecognisable) isn’t the best start. The charm of the original has been sucked right out of it, and it’s as close as we get to its classic parent album. Older material more generally is in short supply as the most recent Sun album becomes the focus. It’s a really decent album but leaning on it so heavily is a misjudgement. A closing Ruin providing the set with one of its few rousing moments.
Playing it a little more canny are Villagers in the 6 Music Arena. This year’s {Awayland} provides most of the material but monster single Becoming A Jackal offers a wonderful moment for the healthy crowd. As Conor O’Brien notes it feels like they’ve been here every year, but in truth, the songs from the new album have taken them forward. If they can keep producing numbers on a level with The Bell and Judgement Call they’ll always be welcome.
The Maccabees have drawn an enormous crowd, and to our ears they sound not too shabby with Pelican getting some big singalong action. But it’s Bloc Party who are tonight’s biggest draw. Rumours have been circling that this could be ‘it’ for them (again). It’s certainly their last show for some time and drummer Matt Tonge has stepped aside to be replaced by Sarah Jones of New Young Pony Club who does a hell of a lot more than just keep time. It’s a fine performance and Kele Okereke is skilled in dealing with a crowd of this size – hits old and new are thundered out accompanied by some tremendous lights.
Banquet and Positive Tension are massive nostalgia trips and Octopus from the most recent Four comfortably shows they’ve still got it. Adapting some godawful Rihanna (apparently) song to roll into Flux is best forgotten, but new single Ratchet is a stormy, funk-laden number that should help give them the impetus to keep going.
SATURDAY
There’s a frustrating amount of drizzle in the air and it’s a darn sight colder too. Typically, Henham Park seems to be the only corner of the UK not still baking in a heatwave. Still, Friday was so oppressive, rain is almost a relief. It just about stays dry for Steve Mason on the Main Stage. With a late start, his promise to rein in the political rants isn’t kept and he’s on angry form. After a mix of new and old songs, Fight Them Back is a powerful statement to end a set of jaunty indie funk with strong anarchistic leanings. We don’t manage to catch all of Joanna Gruesome on the Lake Stage but the young five-piece set ears ringing with an upturned lip of a set – guitars were set to ‘vicious’.
Our last visit to the iArena of the weekend (we practically camped at the place last year) comes in the familiar guise of King Creosote, this time with a mere three-piece backing band compared to the usual 10+. There’s a braw crowd too, and Kenny’s grinning from ear to ear. Those expecting to hear Diamond Mine may have been surprised by the original arrangement for John Taylor’s Month Away, let alone the footstomping “wha-oh, wha-oh, wha-oh” refrain of Doubles Underneath. Here’s hoping they were pleasantly surprised, too. Before KC we had Wave Machines – a good band to sit and read a magazine to, as it turned out.
The crowd for Daughter in the 6 Music Arena is such that two minutes in, no one’s getting near it. Hundreds are left outside, some with a glimpse of the screens, to simply listen to highlights from If You Leave. The band seem genuinely overwhelmed by the response. It’s a bit quieter for Everything Everything (perhaps surprisingly so) but they’re on splendid form adding weight to the songs on Arc which were a little lightweight compared to debut Man Alive.
Three stark Ys on the background signal the arrival of Karen O and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs on the main stage, and perhaps the first real superstar of the weekend. The throb of Zero builds things to fever pitch before O thrashes round the stage to a crushing Gold Lion. New material off the decidedly iffy Mosquito is dispensed with fairly early on, before Maps and Pin pull back the mood to 2003; true oldie Miles Away slays the crowd before a particularly raucous Date With the Night brings things to a close all too soon. One of the bands of the weekend.
Hot Chip have always struggled to produce a truly coherent album, but there’s no doubting their worth as a festival act, stuffing their hour with singles, including recent addition Dark and Stormy. We also get Over and Over, Ready for the Floor and One Life Stand, all powered by a live drummer, last seen pounding the skins for Bloc Party last night – “no big deal” as Joe Goddard cheerily mutters. Always fun, and still relevant after ten years of fine songs.
It always felt like the were the starter for Kraftwerk though. Visible across a number of festival bills this year, their live shows are still a novelty experience, especially when billed as being in 3D. A field full of people all wearing white card glasses must have been quite a sight, and at times – like a robot arm sweeping across the crowd during the opening We Are The Robots or multiple cycle wheels on Tour de France – the effects were well worth the effort.
Not everything works as well though, but while hardcore fans at Latitude were probably at a minimum, there’s enough familiar songs to keep everyone – the tweens that troop off to see Alt-J aside – happy. The Model unsurprisingly gets a fantastic reception, Autobahn was awesome and Trans Europe Express was just huge. Some moans at their stage demeanour – yes, they really were just four men behind desks – were probably missing the point, but we kind of got what they meant. All Ralf Hutter offered at the end was an “Auf Weidersehen” but it’s a sight we’re unlikely to see again, so no complaints from these quarters.
SUNDAY
Sunday brings a rare event for the Tidal Wave of Indifference – a day camped out by the main stage. Sunday afternoon always brings a supposed special guest to the lunchtime revellers and this year Latitude got it right with the booking of soul legend Bobby Womack, whose career has taken a massive turn for the better with the Damon Albarn-produced The Bravest Man in the Universe.
So Latitude got it right, but did Bobby? After an uplifting Across 110th Street, what could have been a weekend highlight slips into tepid indulgence as the red leather-clad Womack breaks down just about every song to ensure every member (bar the bongo player, strangely) of his enormous, professional band get a moment to shine through a solo or belting out a few lines of vocal. The nadir is the title track from the otherwise sadly neglected Bravest Man, stretched out over nearly 15 minutes.
Things pick up towards the end – it’s almost as if someone has pointed out to Womack that he only has an hour to play – with a few classics rapidly belted out, getting the crowd on their feet, but it’s not the ‘moment’ it could otherwise have been.
The crowd disperses for Junip, José González’ current vehicle. There’s no sign of the Swede’s solo output; instead a full band adds texture to his lush vocals. It’s a bit of a struggle to engage the crowd though, and the lack of chat doesn’t help much. Far better with the gab is fellow Swede Kristian Matsson, a.k.a. The Tallest Man On Earth. Armed only with his guitar and striking, yet laconic, voice, he charms the swelling masses with a beautiful set, even sprinkling over some of Paul Simon’s Graceland.
The main stage seemed to be the place to be for strong male vocalists – next up was blubstep king James Blake. The man has taken the bass-y wobble of dubstep and made it palatable for more casual music fans and here, accompanied by a live drummer and additional synth player, he managed to not only add volume to the quieter numbers he kept the more traditional numbers listenable. Latest single Retrograde wrapped things up but ubiquitous Feist cover Limit to Your Love got the biggest cheer. Older numbers also showed that there’s a lot more to the man than his wet blanket persona.
Plonking Local Natives so high on the main stage was always a gamble for a band still building their profile but they pulled a respectable crowd for their multi-layered harmonies and battering percussion. First album Gorilla Manor figured just as highly as their latest, the gorgeous Hummingbird, but their were no lines drawn in the quality. Having played just about every festival going, next year should bring bigger crowds, if not even higher slots on the bill.
Similar but different, Grizzly Bear deal in such fare without the same lightness of touch. Shields may not be as good as Veckatimest, but it’s a more aggressive affair, dealing in bombast where their 2009 classic relied on subtle menace. Suitably, Sleeping Ute and Yet Again are powered out with all four members adding vocals throughout; Veckatimest fans can also walk away happy with an airing of While You Wait for the Others and a Victoria Legrand-assisted Two Weeks. Anyone expecting older material didn’t get it, though.
And so to close the festival in dusk, came Foals. Any debate on whether they were ready to headline an event of this stature was promptly swept away as the ominous chords of Holy Fire’s instrumental intro built up to a blistering Total Life Forever. Radio hits My Number and Bad Habit were lobbed out nice and early and as darkness fell, Spanish Sahara and the introduction of some well timed lights upped the sense that this was a true ‘event’ we were watching.
As Yannis struggling to keep out of the crowd, the main set was wrapped by a ferocious Providence with an enormous extended, guitar outro – more false endings than The Return of the King, but thankfully not as painful. Inhaler brought things back up before Two Steps Twice pretty much annihilated everyone who wasn’t already floored. Latitude has a strong record of rewarding band that they keep close their hearts, Foals – and the sizeable crowd – are the latest beneficiaries.
The Tidal Wave of Indifference 