T in the Park 2013: Sunday, 14 July

Deap Vally draw a predominantly female crowd, which slightly puts paid to the notion that Lindsey Troy and Julie Edwards are anti-feminist because of the way they dress. Unapologetically sexy in Russ Meyer supervixen-style black and gold bras, basques and hotpants, it is their powerful music that captures the attention. There's something of the White Stripes in their stripped, two-person set-up; more than a little Led Zeppelin in their anthemic riffage. But it's Troy's impressive howl which really blows away the cobwebs – like Janis Joplin, her pleading, moaning howl is half honey, half deadly weapon. Walk of Shame and Baby I Call Hell are incredible, and the duo are greeted with delighted whoops and hollers. [BG]

Glasgow's Pronto Mama are a schizophrenic proposition to say the least, veering wildly in the space of one track between quirky indie, balls-to-the-wall punk, an extended ska workout, and touches of far-out jazz. Predominantly driven by a backbone of charmingly wonky punk-pop, with multi-part vocals, trombone and trumpet, synths, drums, bass and 2 guitars, their breathtaking co-ordination throughout a set of stop-start strangeness and complex time changes is as impressive to behold as it is different to categorize. They're a tremendously exciting new discovery for the uninitiated, and that, really, is what T Break is meant to be all about. [BG]

Dundonian dudes Fat Goth smash the BBC Introducing Stage with a muscular set, drawing a sizeable audience of those who don’t fancy Bastille or Rita Ora. And quite rightly – this is gutteral, visceral rock, evoking the best of Shellac or Countdown to Extinction era Megadeth while still pushing forward with their own trademark style. Taking a healthy swig from this year’s Stud, Fraser Stewart leads the march with a chugging barrage of winning riffs, weaving through the likes of Debbie’s Dirty Harry, Surf’s Down, and Creepy Lounge. It’s a well-executed set, and the aggressive guitar work, pneumatic drumming, and snarling vocals make this a sound afternoon choice. [GS]

When a frontman strides onstage in a full pastel-grey suit, with Ray Bans and a glass of white wine, you might wonder if the fame has got to them. Two Door Cinema Club, at their third T visit, own the Main Stage perhaps a little too cockily for a 5pm slot, but the sun’s oot, the fans are heaving, and the chirpy Northern Irish lads know what they’re doing. Sing-alongs aplenty (including one memorable a capella opening to What You Know), leaning heavily on 2010’s Tourist History, plus the requisite singles from 2012’s Beacon. Irresistible sunshine indie-pop, distilled and bottled. Cheers. [GS]

Tyler, the Creator is the voice of the current zeitgeist's malcontented youth. It's no coincidence that his tales of abandonment by his father, drug-soaked wilderness years and eventual dream-fulfilment as a rap star resonate with a generation where absentee fathers, drugs, and dreams of fame are the commonplace. So why Tyler is in the packed Slam tent, stood atop the decks rapping and tripping over cables, and not on the larger King Tut's or other stages is a bit of a mystery. His performance is incendiary, by turns brutal and hilarious, leading the crowd in a chant of 'Here-we-fucking-go' before launching into gravel-voiced versions of Domo 23 and Sandwitches, causing the audience to erupt into a moshing, sweating rabble. By the time he drops the first bars of Bastard, switching into Yonkers, they are screaming his name, chanting 'Golf Wang' until their voices break. A girl leaves the gig crying and hyperventilating after a mere touch from her hero. It's one of those generational, crowd-uniting performances that make a festival special. [BG]

Frank Ocean meanwhile has a more commercial, family-friendly sound, in spite of his connections to the Odd Future crew, and as such, he gets a slot on the main stage. Even he, however, is a little leftfield for the Rita Ora and Stereophonics fans in attendance, and his performance is somewhat subdued. Nonetheless, his voice is revealed as an instrument of rare power, ranking him alongside soul greats like Marvin Gaye. The full band backing him reveal the surprisingly classical songwriting approaches of his best-known tracks – shorn of modern, electronic production, the likes of Super Rich Kids and Pyramids sound utterly timeless. He gets a muted response, but acquits himself well. [BG]

CHVRCHES have upped their game as a live act, tearing into their tracks with a verve that is at once refreshing to see, and a delight for the ears. Their sound is perfect today, the likes of Gun and Recover achieving a kind of shimmering techno-meets-pop dynamic that balances their slick synth sound with Lauren Mayberry's pixie-like vocals. Tracks from their forthcoming album feature Mororder-esque synths and a darker lyrical bent, but most impressive is Mayberry, who has learnt to swagger on stage a bit more, and completely owns her emerging star persona, becoming a transfixing front-woman. The packed tent responds with enthusiastic glee. [BG]

The sun starts setting, a chill starts creeping – surely not the setting for the fury of Oxford math-rockers Foals? The drawn-out synth of Prelude raises expectations, and curious bystanders edge closer, before the band leap onstage and reinvigorate the Radio 1 Stage audience. “It’s nice to be back,” says crazed frontman Yannis Philipakkis (who still can’t resist later jumping into the crowd, much to security’s chagrin). Switching from moshy, upbeat numbers (My Number, Total Life Forever, Providence) to the reflective Spanish Sahara gives their set pace, leading us ceremoniously into evening. A thunderous, kinetic Two Steps Twice closes their slot, just as the sun dims. [GS]

Vasa dominate the tent with their heavy, incredibly complex take on post-rock. True, their music shares much of the DNA of Don Caballero, Tortoise, Slint and even Mogwai, but it is played with a ferocity and confidence that shows how hard the band have worked on their towering instrumental edifices. Displaying incredible musicianship, the four-piece occasionally seem like they might be showing off, as when their bassist plays double-time, multi-octave slap bass on his instrument two-handed. But the sound is so ruthlessly euphoric, so relentlessly magisterial, that they can only win over the crowd. [BG]

Berghain residents Ben Klock and Marcel Dettman give what feels like the most engaging techno performance of the weekend in the Slam tent, basically showing the crowd and all of the other artists how it is done. Given that Berghain opens for incredibly long stretches, the duo are used to playing sets of six hours or more, and the quality they have focused on most intently is the building, layered nature of a techno mix. Teasing drops and builds are laced together almost seamlessly, with gorgeous flourishes of melodic synth driving the crowd onwards. Despite the late Sunday atmosphere being marred by a couple of fist-fights, Klock and Dettman effortlessly edge out in front of the techno pack with their considered, intricately structured set. [BG]

Closing the T Break stage, hotly-tipped electro-rock four-piece Machines In Heaven suffer slightly in the attendance stakes – many revellers have gone home early. Undeterred, they launch into some of their expansive, wide-screen anthems, delivering a head-nodding, funk-infused Mumbo Jingo. Occasionally, their live performances suffer from a surfeit of ideas, but here, each member contributes just the right amount, resulting in a subtle alchemy. A hypnotic, transcendental Bordersbreakdown wins the hearts and minds of the small crowd, encompassing shimmering shoegaze guitar, witch-y synths and pulsing electro bass. It's a confident performance from a band who are more than the sum of their considerably talented parts. [BG]

Karen, oh Karen. Never change. A night with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs isn’t complete without the antics (and outfits) of eccentric lead Karen O. To close King Tut’s for the weekend, she – now startlingly blonde - has chosen spangly tight red spandex and a tassly red jacket, like a scrawny, maddened Dolly Parton. Opening with new single Sacrilege, this New York trio whips the crowd up in seconds. Writhing and lurching her way through hits like Gold Lion, Cheated Hearts, and a tent-quaking Heads Will Roll, Karen unleashes her iconic banshee wails to a churning sea of limbs. The set is frenetic and charged; at one point a giant inflatable eye is released to the crowd, just because. Closing with a raucous Maps followed by Date With the Night, Karen finishes with a classic move – entwining herself with the mic cord and, erm, shoving it down her pants. [GS]