T in the Park 2010 – Saturday
The man responsible for placing Hacienda on the international scene as a home of forward-thinking music opens the Saturday of the Slam Tent in suitable style, appearing in front of a sparse crowd with his trademark reel to reel tape machines. There is next to no dancing taking place as those present ease themselves into day, enjoying Greg Wilson's laid back set of italo and disco. On a stage that will be dominated by younger men over the weekend, all of whom armed with laptops, it is a treat to reflect back briefly with one of the first men to ever mix two records together. [cd]
Local Natives’ rain-soaked set is witnessed by more ponchos than people, and the Los Angeles band could be forgiven for thinking the weather is the reason for their depleted audience. The real reason, heartbreakingly, is Scouting for Girls over on the Main Stage. They try to make the best of it though; their exotic rhythms and fragrant harmonies provide a pleasingly juxtaposed soundtrack to what was in truth a bleak time for both them and us. With many of their songs opening with a steady, pounding bass drum, Local Natives also stumble across the magical secret to making T crowds clap along: steady, pounding bass drums. [mh]
King Tut’s tent proves a haven for bad weather dodgers and exaggerates Diana Vickers’ fan-base tenfold. Even avoiding the obvious indie sneering, Vickers’ attempt at doing a Mark Owen loses what marked her out from the X Factor muppets in the first place by trading in some, yes, genuine pop talent for a little indie kudos. [dc]
As soon as the reel-to-reel machines have been packed up, the Slam Tent transforms in a blaze of brightly coloured comic book visuals as Hilltop Hoods take to the stage in front of a sizable crowd for only two o'clock in the afternoon. The theory of a slow burner start to the day is well and truly out of the window as the Australian hip-hop trio build the crowd into a frenzy in spite of their, quite frankly, sub-par mic skills. Nobody seems more surprised than them as they remark "Damn, y'all are rowdy for this early in the af'noon". [cd]
The increasingly fragmented Broken Social Scene make a welcome re-grouping and prove to be a quintessential early afternoon festival kick-start. Moments such as All to All do admittedly feel a little meandering, possibly due to audience unfamiliarity, but the brass coda of Shoreline or instrumental closer Meet Me in the Basement, which Brendan Canning proposes as the new Scottish national anthem, ensures fans and newbies alike leave Tut’s with a spring in their step.[dc]
What is this? DJ Yoda's Zeitgeist Mix? He couldn't cram in any more topical references if he tried. Opening with bagpipes, mixing into Singing In The Rain, layering the sound of vuvuzelas over songs, it all seems a bit try hard. However, once his cheesy first fifteen minutes is over with he begins winning the majority of us over with his well crafted party soundtrack. Points docked for ending with Journey though, unforgivable. [cd]
Saturday lunchtime’s persistent drizzle sends most casual fans under canvas, so bands like the T Break tent-bound Astral Planes can benefit from a larger audience. But beyond the friends in the front row, the casual outliers never really take to them. Doris Day’s (the song, obvs) weighty riffs momentarily stop the crowd chatting and even inspire a little air guitar; but the Glasgow band’s similarities to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Blondie -- right down to the singer’s American accent -- suggest a personality received, not conceived. [ab]
“The new Frightened Rabbit?” a friend jokes as we head to the BBC Introducing stage for Admiral Fallow, formerly Brother Louis Collective. A reductive, throwaway comment; sadly impossible to shrug off. In a 20 minute set, three songs feel like shadows of specific FRabbit tunes. Their best moment comes when they step out of that shadow: an emotional clarinet burst at the end of final song Subbuteo provides a welcome Roxy Music-style release. [ab]
In terms of musical performance there really isn't much at fault here at all. But an act like Four Tet in the Slam Tent well into Saturday afternoon? This is an obvious error in scheduling, as droves of people leave the tent in search of something a bit more upbeat. Those of us who remain are treated to Kieran Hebden's sublime sound, but miss out on any visual element to the show when arguably he is the one artist appearing on this stage today who merits it. [cd]
Unfortunately for the newly Guardian-profiled Kid Adrift, the rain has stopped before he takes the stage, and fans seem determined to enjoy the skies while they’re dry. So only a wee group is present to gawp at his bombastic synth-rock, and despite the volume and scope, somehow even they don’t seem to be paying attention. He’s not helped by poor sound, specifically an underpowered mic that leaves his vocals clouded out by the bass and drums, but predictable quiet/loud shifts in his music don’t help either. [ab]
After a surprisingly positive response to Mr Hebden's hypnotic grooves, the frantic masses chanting 'D12' get their wish when the Detroit crew take the stage following some old school DJ hype. Some of the hits in the mix, like Rockstar, might seem a little dumb, but for all the groups' joking around they know how to start a serious party. That their flow is tight too surely doesn't hurt. No sign of Marshall, though. [rd]
Vampire Weekend are astonishingly popular. For a group with only two Top 40 hits to attract a miles-deep crowd at the Main Stage is remarkable, and for miles around we can see fans dancing, not just to those minor hits, but to album tracks too. “Cousins” is the highlight, the off-kilter scratch guitar intro immediately drawing waves of cheers from the crowd, before Ezra Koenig draws laughs by asking for “anger and ecstasy” from the crowd during “One (Blake’s Got A New Face)”. Perhaps he touched on the real secret to all this dancing? [ab]
Scott Hutchison of Frightened Rabbit ruminates to the T crowd over his bands lack of Scottish performances lately. Hardly surprising given their growing stature, but all is forgiven during this essential set. The F’rabbits balance artistic integrity with festival crowd expectations like few others, best exemplified by a re-imagined, quick to the draw Backwards Walk. The sound is enveloping, anthemic and raises goose pimples on goose pimples, whilst the bands exuberance and humbleness is genuinely touching. Welcome back lads.[dc]
An incredibly slick performance from Paul Ritch and a return to what could be deemed the norm for the Slam Tent. Today's programming of laid back disco, hip-hop, sublime electronica and the cut and paste style of DJ Yoda has been somewhat erratic but has now led the afternoon to the logical conclusion of quality techno that captivates the crowd for the entirety of Ritch's well-honed set. [cd]
One of the more subdued acts on the T Break line-up this evening, The Boy Who Trapped The Sun, aka Stornoway's Colin Macleod, previews material from his debut album, Fireplace, to a strong and attentive crowd. Joined by full band, songs like Home and the album's title track are lended extra colour, and ultimately go down smooth. [rd]
Another band making the most of kicking it in the rain are Ohioan duo, The Black Keys. Bumped up to a three piece for some of this evening's set they entertain the crowd no end, despite the onset of a downpour. Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney's dirty bluesy jams - spanning all manner of tempos and funky rhythms - sound utterly huge and manage to get a few thousand feet moving for their efforts.[rd]
“Hip hip!” – “PARADE!!” Rob Shah of, yes, Hip Parade, knows how to work the BBC Introducing crowd. Yes, they’re one of those Orange Unsigned Acts and look like a bunch of haircuts but their farewell offering Dynamite Sound, whilst ridiculous on paper, is effective for three-and-a-half minutes of causal festival meandering and at least leaves an imprint on you after they’ve left to coiffure their barnets. “Dynamite, you’re fucking dynamite!”[dc]
Judging by the fact we couldn't get into the tent during his set, Example's popularity amongst the T community - particularly its young, brightly dressed contingent - isn't at all in question. From what we can catch from the congested exits, the London rapper (if you can call him that) plays to this overwhelming response end with a slick set of self-described 'dysfunctional electro pop'. Difficult to see what the fuss is about. [rd]
In front of an audience augmented by a throng of bewildered Marina and the Diamonds fans, Pearl and the Puppets find themselves able to subject a larger demographic than ever before to their nauseatingly wholesome brand of twee pop. Bounding on stage, clinging to a Saltire, Pearl is clearly feeling festive (she wishes far too many people a happy birthday) and the poetic redundancy of her lyrics is offset by just how much everyone would like her to bake them a cake. [mh]
After We Are Scientists pack the King Tuts tent out, The Coral’s crowd is sparse. It’s a minor mystery why they have such a good slot at all, and they don’t offer any clues from the stage. They start with breakthrough single Goodbye, before a dreary In The Rain and a new song with a stultifying chorus of “oh oh, waiting for a thousand years, oh oh, sailing on a thousand tears”. We don’t wait a thousand milliseconds more. [ab]
Airship's attempts to make the most of the slim numbers outside the introducing stage unfortunately falter tonight. Whether it's just bad timing - the Manchester-based crew's sprawling and potentially atmospheric numbers are not exactly the remedy to an already wet and miserable day in a field – or that it just doesn't carry outdoors, who knows, but let's not write them off just yet. [rd]
Saturday night on the Red Bull Bedroom Jam Futures Stage feels invitingly detached from the boozy malevolence which seems to have descended elsewhere on site, and the Mystery Jets’ set is welcomed by a crowd willing to appreciate the full range of their repertoire. Despite the prospect of Laura Marling joining them on Young Love never coming to fruition, the band are able to whip out some truly joyous moments, with Two Doors Down proving that not all the people-pleasers are to be heard on the bigger stages [mh]
This writer has a problem with electro house, so in the interest of being objective let’s get that admission out in the open from the beginning. It's the person at the party who is screaming for attention with their constant jokes and anecdotes, interesting for a short while perhaps, but quickly tiresome. Instead of the ebb and flow of other sets today this is just a constant peak. However, Erol Alkan keeps the full tent dancing in what is clearly one of the highlights of the day for most people here. [cd]
It’s difficult to imagine a better festival act than Rodrigo y Gabriela. Their blistering and dexterous Latino guitar duelling is always a delight to witness live and tonight is no exception. However, as they approach the hour mark, and with far fewer of their classic rock covers to break things up, save a bit of Metallica, it does feel a little samey to those not well versed in the subtleties of the duos back catalogue.[dc]
In the Futures tent, we’d earlier seen the quiet, folky Middle East suffer because watchers were too drunk to listen. But now the same tent is packed and wholly attentive for 20 year old Laura Marling, the new star of English folk thanks to her beautiful second album I Speak Because I Can. There’s a dramatic pause in Rambling Man that’s perfectly held by the rapt crowd, emphasising the effect of the return; before a sizable core of fans sing along to every word of Ghosts. Wonderful. [ab]
With especially big props to The Doors and The Rolling Stones - even throwing in a bit of a 'surf' vibe - The Ray Summers are nothing new by any stretch. Once you get past the familiarity of the band's every facet, however, there is no denying this is an energetic performance worthy of a dedicated T break crowd. [rd]
With the wait for the fourth Strokes album nearing five years now, the crowd seems to forgive Julian Casablancas for taking to the stage a mere twenty minutes late. He seems in a mischievous mood and is clearly appreciative of the brave few who have shunned Eminem to witness him flail, drone and anger security in a fleeting but spirited set. He is visibly either intoxicated or unwell, but his genuine star quality is clear – as is the crowd’s insatiable appetite for Strokes songs, with “Hard to Explain” and “The Modern Age” inducing the same euphoria that they did way back in 2001 [mh].
The BBC’s Vic Galloway introduces Young Fathers as “the best three-piece electro hip-hop group Edinburgh’s ever produced!”, which might sound a soft compliment but it’s pretty accurate: while their lyrics are hard to make out in the melee, there’s no hating their style. Before the crowd knows it, we're jumping around and flapping our arms like birds, all because of their infectious onstage energy and charm.[ab]
A headlining slot at T Break for Mitchell Museum proves something of a poison chalice for Mitchell Museum. The robust crowd sizes throughout the day are swallowed up by The Prodigy and Eminem when the Glasgow quartet arrives with their merry-go-round psychedelic pop. It’s a pity as their set is much stronger and more convincing than when we last saw them. Gradually they draw in a few stragglers due to the impossibly catchy likes of Warning Bells and Tiger Heartbeat, giving enough of a celebratory mood for the few who witnessed it to call it a success. [dc]
The Prodigy have become something of a festival machine in recent years, slaying everything from Download to RockNess last year alone. At times tonight, the persistent build ups, led by Maxim's frequent calls for his 'Scottish Warriors', are grating, but this is forgotten by the time Firestarter kicks in. The Radio1/NME stage soon succumbs to a demonic flurry of light and apocalyptic noise marking an intense ending to a miserable Saturday. [rd]
Seven years since he last played in Scotland, it’s an honour and a thrill to see Eminem performing again, even if we do have to wait an additional forty minutes past showtime for him to arrive. In some ways it’s like he’s never been away: his performance is full of energy, he doesn’t miss a beat and he’s clearly enjoying himself. Unfortunately his wireless mic isn’t quite so wide awake, meaning whole verses are occasionally inaudible as he patrols the stage, and his set includes a few recent stinkers: Beautiful and Not Afraid are particularly galling. Luckily, a late run including My Name Is, Without Me and Lose Yourself is clearly audible and full of fire. Anytime, Mister Mathers. [ab]