25th July
The Saturday offered the most musically. We had a team of acts to look forward to and the weather was still holding.
Alela Diane was a pleasant start, feeding the audience a little TLC and sympathizing with heads from the morning after the night before. Sultry southern pop from an equally sultry siren.
In the true nature of Camp Bestival, with clashing genres and lawsuits galore, Goldie Lookin Chain took the indoor stage in the afternoon. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or weep at the hundred strong children on their parent's shoulder's bopping and gesturing along to "Your Mother's Got a Penis". I shrugged it off as all in good fun. The Welsh motley crew were amazingly energetic and provided comic relief for an otherwise hungover music lover.
More seriously now, I spent the latter half of the afternoon running between the sets of Frank Turner and Laura Marling - the ying and yang of the indie folk scene. I can see why they were put on at the same time, no normal person would see the appeal of both artists, but during that afternoon I experienced the witty Bragg-esque pull of Turner with his rugged charm set against the etheral and somewhat eery drawl of Marling churning out her own tales of misguided love and sorrow. All I can say was that it was a beautiful experience running half a mile between the tents*
The highlight of my weekend came in the form of six French men. The band Phoenix that is. After the recent release of their fourth studio album "Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix", I was excited to see this marvellous record live. I expected european pop with a hint of electronic and synth, we were undeservedly treated with sumptuous sophisticated alternative, just oozing with generous helpings of french cool. Phwoar. Ok, so may be getting a little excited here, but they were simply mind-blowing. They rattled off hits such as "Run, Run, Run" off alphabetical, an early one "Long Distance Call" to name a few (ok so I don't know exactly what was playing, I was too busy having a bloody good time dancing) and rounded off with a brilliant crowd-cheering rendition of "1901". C'est bloody magnificent.
The evening came to a head with the appearance of P J Harvey, the tent was completely rammed as this was the songstress' only UK festival experience - a rare treat! After the opener "To Bring You My Love", Polly divulged that she would play only her favourite songs in the way they were originally composed. For an avid fan like myself, this was somewhat a dream, but for a Peej novice, like my friend beside me, it was a night of indulgent folk played on an array of expensive looking tat. I picked out a rather modest version of "Big Exit", and a haunting version of "Down by the Water" on some sort of stringed tissue box, which sat comfortably alongside new'uns such as "The Last Living Rose". All in all, I felt I got my value for monety Saturday night and felt slightly exhausted by PJ's hour and a half long set. Standing up listening to plinky plinky guitar when you've had a skinful is hardly ideal, but still charming and I'm glad to have caught her set.
* distance may have been exaggerated for dramatic effect.
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