Field Day 2008 – Victoria Park

Field Day was a wet, but nonetheless joyous affair. Before I begin with my report on the day, and my praise for what proved to be some excellent musical moments, I first need to get a couple of things off my chest…

1. Whoever thought that it was a good idea to put Noah and the Whale on at 12.30pm is a cretin. They should have been on later in the afternoon when there were actually people there to enjoy them.

2. Despite last year’s toilet oversight, the organisers still failed to deliver enough lavs. This meant (for the ladies at least) that before you even knew you needed the toilet you had to start queuing – or risk wetting yourself.

3. It rained all day – which was annoying not just for the obvious discomfort caused, but because people insisted on holding up umbrellas in front of the stage. Lovely if you’re standing under it, not so great if you’re standing behind it trying to see what the be-Jesus is going on

Now aside from that, it was splendid…

Leeds-based Kendal lads and recent Domino-signed band Wild Beasts shook things up early on with their operatic, eccentric pop – playing a tight set despite being belted sideways by the most ferocious of the day’s rain. Needless to say the boys didn’t look like they were enjoying it much, which isn’t the best way to spur-on a sopping wet audience.

Laura Marling is offensively talented. Her voice commanded the whole place for the entirety of her set, as she sung out her brand of intricate, evocative folk. It’s not just her vocals that make you resent her (she sings like a breathy, cockney angel), but her actual song-writing ability is pretty good too, especially for one so young. Though a belligerent red haired heckler screamed “advert music!” part way into her first song, he was wrong, for Marling’s strength of voice and skilful accompanying strings proved to be a captivating show indeed.

Of Montreal were a much needed burst of colour (the frontman either had luminously tattooed legs or was wearing some rather fancy hosiery), giving the crowd an exuberant rendition of their weird psychodelia and an eyeful of some weird gimp-appendaged stage divers.

The highlight though, came later in the evening in the form of some rather ethereal German electronica. The Notwist’s melancholic, tinkling soundscapes made standing, for me – in the soaking wet in a tent where men were visibly urinating against the canvas to avoid the rain and the lack of loos – a pleasurable experience.