T in the Park 2012: Saturday

And then the rain came. What began as a deceptively dry weekend turned to soup overnight, and the hoards retreated for cover. Fortuitously, The Skinny had already planned to spend a chunk of time in King Tut’s Wah Wah Tent, which opens with Alt+J (∆) . The 'folkstep' (seriously? - Ed) foursome deal somewhat hesitantly with the crowd, most of which are surely here just to avoid the weather, and their set feels like more of a stoic live rendition of An Awesome Wave than a particularly invested performance. As unconvinced as many revellers seem, the haunting, glittering, subterranean wonder of Intro and Breezeblocks, and Fitzpleasure's exotic oriental undertow are doubly enchanting in the flesh. [GS]

Woodenbox open the BBC's new music stage for the weekend and, thanks again to the promise of a dry tent, there’s a decent sized audience inside. The Scottish six piece are appearing under frontman Ali Downer's original moniker, having shed the ‘Fistful of Fivers.’ That's certainly not to say thay they've traded in the Morricone influence and Mariachi twang. Downer is a magnetic force as he alternates between softly spoken lines and full blooded shouts and it’s fitting that so many people have turned out in their ponchos to dance to the polka rhythm of Twisted Mile, which brings us to a jubilant climax of blaring sax and trumpet. [NM]

Aware of their midday slot, Steven Ansell, drummer-vocalist and one half of Brighton's Blood Red Shoes, introduces their set with an appeal: “Let’s wake the fuck up.” And with that, the Ting Tings’ evil twins belt out some riotous, satisfying grunge, doing exactly that to the crowd. With the vocal sass of Tegan and Sara (just itching to be Karen O, but not quite there), Laura-Mary Carter harmoniously offsets the frenzied beats & guitar combo that drives these songs along. [GS]

If the torrential rain is bothering The Wailers, they don't show it. Their lunchtime slot on the main stage coincides with the worst of the Saturday weather, but singer Koolant Brown still gamely claps, waves and cheers throughout. Only Aston 'Family Man' Barrett remains from Bob Marley's original band, but this is no cheap tribute act. Jamaican keys legend Keith Sterling adds a touch of panache to proceedings and the group have no trouble locking down a groove. All the best Marley sing-a-long numbers are present, and the crowd joins in with gusto. With rain like this, they have to. [CM]

After almost 12 hours without a dry spell, even the most hardy T veterans are looking bedraggled. Django Django's mid-afternoon Transmissions Stage set provides a much-needed tonic. The upbeat Arabian psychedelica of Skies Over Cairo elicits dreams of sunshine, and the band's percussion-heavy sound forces the crowd to squelch their wellies in time. Even Storm, a song clearly fitting for the present conditions, raises a smile. The Anglo-Scottish four piece have toured their debut album relentlessly this year, which is reflected in what is a confident and genuinely uplifting set. [CM]

There's a bumper crowd in the BBC tent to see United Fruit, most of whom cheer when the compere asks who's in to shelter. The Glasgow outfit's upgraded three-guitar assault is a great thing to behold, as new song A Taste I Can't Give Up proves. The UF gents don't just create a racket, however; they glide through the subtle dynamic shifts of Go Away, Don't Leave Me Alone. It's frustrating then that, just as they're hitting their stride, the set's already up. It's a damn shame, but then this is a band with time still on their side. [CM]

Easily a highlight of the festival, Fatherson humbly take to the BBC Introducing Stage with genuine gratitude. And with a set that begins with typically bookish and earnest 'local band' enthusiasm, the trio (or quintet, here) rapidly develop an unexpected grandeur, with sweeping cello and piano, shedding any lazy categorisation and hinting at a burgeoning professionalism. Talking to The Skinny later, recently appointed cellist Elaine Glass told us she simply “wanted everyone to feel the love,” recalling the closing hug that the band shared to a whooping audience. [GS]

Enter Shikari finally kick things up a notch in the face of persistent misery; buoyed by the sight of a healthy crowd jumping around in front of them, they rip into a set pumped full of energy, synths and riffs. Singer Rou Reynolds delivers his trademark vocal gymnastics, alternating between screaming, shouting and occasionally actually singing too. While plenty of others might congratulate the fans just for showing up on days like these, the Shikari boys go one further by crowd surfing right into the muddy maelstrom before being spat back out just in time to grab their instruments for the blinding finale of Gandi Mate, Gandi. Certainly a band for all seasons. [NM]

Where as the weekend’s biggest electronic artists employ massive screens and lasers to conceal the dirty secret that, behind the glittering curtain, it’s just a guy at the controls, Damgroove does not have that luxury, (although a glittering curtain might make for an improvement). He endeavours to bring his bass heavy, ravey beats to life on the Introducing Stage with the help of a drummer and vocalist, but it’s not enough to make this a coherent performance. The wild variation in styles don't help as they lurch from aggressive dubstep to a samba inspired dub-dance hybrid. The Cambridge producer spends the duration of his set traversing the stage, seemingly stopping only for an occasional button press here or tweak of the knob there. The introduction of their own Bez in what appears to be an Olly Murs mask does not save the show. [NM]

There are noticeably fewer big American bands present for T this year than usual, but the buzz around We Are Augustines suggests that they could be on the verge of becoming one. The Brooklyn band are fond of anthemic guitar songs complete with marching drums and it’s hard not to block out thoughts of The Killers at their least pompous at times, even though singer and guitarist Billy McCarthy is clearing channeling Bruce Springsteen. While their musical inspirations are worn as clearly as the hearts upon their sleeves, they're redeemed by giving the songs absolutely everything they have while clearly appearing humbled by having such a fervent audience to play to. “Thanks for all the emails...we’ve finally made it!” McCarthy says as they strike into Chapel Song, and all of a sudden even their appearance here feels like it’s a victory against impossible odds. [NM]

Hector Bizerk's brand of hip-hop is built on two simple dynamics – live drums powering alongside inventive rapping. For this early evening performance, the Glaswegians have added a bassist and synths player, but it's still Audrey's beats and Louie's words that remain the backbone of an impressively energetic set. There's maybe not even 100 people in the crowd, but when nearly everyone is gathered around the front barrier and fist pumping to every song, it matters not a jot. Sometimes I Wonder – lifted from their forthcoming debut album DRUMS.RAP.YES. – goes down a storm. Bigger stages await. [CM]

Men of few words, We Were Promised Jetpacks launch into their set without so much as a hello. And as if channeling the futurist frustration of their name, the Edinburgh troupe adopt a policy of almost continuous sound, with by now characteristic pneumatic drum rolls and stocky, muscular guitar. The crowd mosh and churn with vim, seemingly not bothered by the energised quartet's minimal banter, happy with their beefy, explosive fervour alone. [GS]

By now, it's business as usual for Noel Gallagher. Three years after one bust-up too many with little brother, the Mancunian guitarist remains a considerable live draw. There's a sizable crowd to see his main stage set, and his band of session musicians – grandly titled the High Flying Birds – don't put a foot wrong in performance. However, despite each song's enthusiastic reception, there's little energy here. The biggest cheers are still reserved for Oasis songs, of which there are several tonight – including even the appalling Mucky Fingers and Record Machine. The Death of You and Me sparkles, but there's too much filler and it's difficult to shake the feeling there's something missing. Could it be that, for all his faults, it really was Liam that made Noel's songs fly? [CM]

Northern Irish indie-poppers Two Door Cinema Club are blessed with a dry spell and an accompanying cheerful audience. Kicking off with cosy future classics like Undercover Martyn, they bounce around with a confident energy entirely in line with their high billing on the Radio1/NME Stage. The trio pepper their set with a generous sampling from 2012 debut Tourist History and a preview from the forthcoming Beacon, yet without relying on a microwaved back catalogue. The heaving masses jive contentedly to their trademark infectious hooks and twinkling guitars, while frontman Alex Trimble himself confesses an improved mood by the end of it. High spirits all round. [GS]

They said it would never happen, but tonight The Stone Roses have risen for their first Scottish show in 17 years. Fresh from their trilogy of mega-gigs at Heaton Park, this is the first festival appearance on UK soil, with a set tightly squeezed into a 90 minute slot. Leading in with the majestic I Wanna Be Adored, Ten Storey Love Song is later dropped along with John Squire's more freewheeling guitar outros; the crowd laps up almost everything the Roses can offer. Reni's loose drumming is sublime tonight; even Ian Brown's voice is passable. More subtle numbers such as Sugar Spun Sister, and the slow grooves of Something's Burning, leaves much of the crowd cold, then there's a sense of relief when the big choruses of Made of Stone and She Bangs the Drums finally provide the big opportunity for a drunken sing-a-long. Finishing with a triumphant I Am The Resurrection, this wasn't quite a Heaton Park-sized performance, but still carried the weight of a seldom seen event. [CM]