The Lovebox Weekender

The clouds looked ominous as we joined the swathes of people queuing in Victoria Park, and the hoards of girls in little dresses and gladiator sandals started to look rather silly, but luckily the rain held off for the first day of the Lovebox Weekender.

As if beer, schizophrenic weather (blowing hot and cold is about right) and a dynamic line-up weren’t enough to get everyone in the party mood, inside the arena punters were greeted by fun-fair rides in the form of a giant swing carousal, a Ferris wheel and waltzers.

After the Young Knives’ geek-tastic set – in which the tune ‘Weekends and Bleakdays’ main chorus sang out “Hot summer, hot, hot summer!” in vain, we headed to one of the bars for a well-needed beverage; and that is where the festival was let down.

The bars were perhaps the most badly run and shambolic I’ve ever experienced, and a sorry half hour was spent being elbowed in the ribs by morons until one of the oblivious staff finally handed over two pints of Carlsberg.

Wanting to get straight back into the fun, and excited by the recent hoo-ha surrounding Kiwi Ladyhawke, we made a bee-line for the main stage to get my dose of the Blondie-a-like’s unbelievably catchy electro pop. She didn’t disappoint – and delivered a set of danceable tunes that got the whole crowd going.

But undoubtedly the highlight of the whole day came after her set, when ‘80s synth legends The Human League graced the stage. Those ridiculous lyrics, those deadpan, dramatic vocals, and front man Phillip Oakey’s dry sense of humour (“we’re the Human League, here at the end of a 30-year crusade for synth pop”) made for a brilliant set. They busted out all the classics – ‘Together in Electric Dreams’, ‘The Lebanon’ along with multiple costume changes from Joanne and Susan – who have most certainly still got it.

The whole retro rock out culminated, of course, in a thrilling rendition of ‘Don’t You Want Me?’ which had everyone in Sing Star mode. Not bad for a band who’ve been pioneering electronic noise for over three decades. A genius booking on the part of the Lovebox organisers.

Predictably, Groove Armada gave a triumphant performance, with the help of a lively firework display – and Manu Chao’s set soon turned into a bilingual dance party as the sun went down.