26th July
The day the weather finally gave in. Well, we had it pretty good for the rest of the weekend!
At midday we gingerly scurried to see a starstruck Golden Silvers. Disappointingly, the crowd that had gathered was pretty thin and mostly consisted of the remnants of the crowd from the previous performer of the Main Stage - the eponymous Mr Tumble. Their set was a bit flat, with really only two soundtracks, one of course being "True Romance" - but the festival set-up didn't really seem to carry their glam funk punk image.
Dans Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip were a definite highlight of the weekend although it seemed like they didn't want to be there and were dragged kicking and screaming by their label Sunday Best to the Dorset fest. Nevertheless they were fucking amazing. Scroobius Pip was hilarious as ever with a cheeky Dans le Sac bouncing off his jokes. "Thou Shalt Always Kill" and "The Beat That My Heart Skipped" were little treats.
Oddly, amongst the hoards of dalmatians, pop up frogs and penguins, we found ourselves at the main stage listening to Roots Manuva in the pouring rain. He did seem bemused by the crowd, but still brought out the classics - what a nice man.
Will Young was marvellous from what I could hear from the bar. I think he was there for the moms and the kids. He did lift the mood in the downpour though, bless him.
We joined Michachu and the Shapes in the Big Top, Mica's weird and wonderful compositions seem to wow the crowd (or those simply sheltering from the rain). We caught the splendidly sarcastic "Just in Case" and "Golden Phone". Micachu is set for great things and is touring exhaustively throughout the summer at countless festivals across the country.
To top it all of Wild Beasts serenaded the pair of us, leaving us swooning. Their haunting vocals and engulfing guitar riffs were not the only delights we had from the band - they were incredibly humble and polite, which to me, is a priceless quality which just made the whole set -well, just splendid really.
Rob da Bank, the organiser and curator of both Camp Bestival and Bestival, shelled out a couple of quid and gave us all some awe-worthy fireworks to a backdrop of what seemed like an indie-disco soundtrack. How fitting.
It was worth the hoards of brats, twee performers and student-prejudice. What a wonderful way to spend a weekend in Dorset.
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