Festivals 2007: Field Day
Whilst the organisation may not have gone to plan, the bands were actually alright...
What a glorious day to hang out in Victoria Park, and all the more glorious for Field Day. Everyone has their legs out, people are wandering around barefoot and never have there been so many pairs of Ray-Bans in one place at the same time.
It's early hours, but the beer's a flowing and the suntan lotion's a slopping. And while everyone shuffles awkwardly on the dying grass from yesterday's Underage antics and perches on hay barrels in the baking sun, Euros Childs plays his organ-based, fun-time tunes in the shelter of the Home Fires stage.
Although he's only skipped over from Wales, his vocals sound so foreign he could be singing in Swedish for all the understandable lyrics. But looking beyond that, he produces whacky yelps, funky piano lines and Queen-like falsettos.
Over in the Adventures in the Beetroot Field tent the oddly named Strange Death of Liberal England, have just as odd a singer, with huge frizzy locks that surround his face. They sound like Modest Mouse on a rampage. His voice quivers like storm-blown window panes and together they carry an aggressive beat with a snappy snare and erratic riffs.
GoodBooks follow swiftly by swaggering on in sunglasses despite the tents shadowing. There's no doubt that they're tight, even their moves look rehearsed. And they get the crowd clapping just so to 'Alice' with its unpredictable high hat and drum beat. The piano flutters through like Chinese whispers, getting more exaggerated as the song progresses. Once they finish making embarrassing announcements about falling off the stage, Kid Harpoon darts his way around with his guitar and The Powers That Be smile on coyly. Crooning his gruff voice he wins the hearts of the audience with soul-shaking lyrics: "The pressure of a pound sign crushed our coupled hands / remember corporations stole your Glastonbury," and evokes a tremble of earthquake proportions.
Before Justice play a sardine-squash, surprise show on a London double-decker Archie Bronson Outfit race through 20 minutes in a huge shouting / trumpet / heavy-head riffed explosion. "This is going to be short and sweet" announces the singer before launching into a fit, words gushing from his mouth uncontrollably. They're diverse, like the Arcade Fire on acid. Booming drums rids the sky of birds and their speedy entrance leads to their speedy exit. They're off before you can soak in the whirlwind of excitement that just manipulated your eardrums.
Things are finally cooling down and people are taking the opportunity to relax before the eclectic Justice unleash havoc. Eighteen huge Marshall amps sit stacked over six foot high, building two barriers either side of the incredible mixing desk in the middle. A cross the size of a small human being shines brightly onto the anxious crowd while the Justice mob settle their rears comfortably behind.
They get 'Dance' out of the way almost immediately and get the crowd pumping with a variety of mixes. An eclectic faux-bass drum thumps through the bodies of everyone and it's like something out of 'Thriller' as every person starts moving in time to each other while staring deadpan at the two rugged men in black. Although not all the amps may be plugged in it still comes out loud enough to make your ears bleed. Twisting and twiddling knobs they stroll casually through their current 'cross' album with precision until a bravura performance of 'We Are Your Friends' mixed with the Klaxons smash 'Atlantis to Interzone'.
As a chill begins to work its way through the night, everyone is well and truly worn out and they make their way sluggishly toward the exit. Chatter rings around the park of the days merriment and anticipation of how next years Field Day could possibly top this one.
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