Latitude 2008: DiS's festival picks / In Depth // Drowned In Sound

The third annualLatitude Festival took place over the weekend in Suffolk. DiS dispatched a pair of scribes and a photographic duo to the three-day festival of music, art, comedy and more. Here be photographic documentation of the festival, and ten personal picks from the astoundingly good musical bill.

Words: Dan Wale, Ben Yates

Photos: Holly Erskine, Toby Price

Franz Ferdinand

Fridays headliners hit their stride early. The vacuum left by their absence has recently been filled by a glut of indie also-rans - which makes their appearance here tonight a timely reminder that we need them back sooner rather than later. Perhaps predictably, it’s the ‘hits’ Take Me Out, The Dark of the Matinée, and Walk Away that cause most people to go surging towards the stage butFranz Ferdinand are starting to amass an impressive catalogue and after a slightly lacklustre second album the new material previewed tonight points to a return to the classic sound they honed when they emerged some four years ago. Katherine Kiss Me in particular is laden with all the killer hooks and infectiously spiky rhythms for which they were loved in the first place.*DW*

Sigur Rós

I wasn’t a fan of Sigur Rós. Now I am. I can pay no greater compliment than that. For once the word transcendental seems quite apt… nay,_ insufficient. They are bewitching. Glowing orbs, marching bands (it’s good, trust me) and a sound that appears to emanate from some lay-line beneath the stage; ‘Svefn-G-Englar_’ is staggeringly beautiful. If ever there is a time when Sigur Rós make perfect sense then it is with the grass beneath your feet and the sky above your head. I can describe no more, because I am in their thrall.*DW*

The Twilight Sad

Early in the afternoon, whilst the majority lie or sit on the acres of grass that unfold before the Obelisk Arena, one man exorcises his demons as the rest of his band make wonderful noise. The Twilight Sad are captivating. James Graham is faintly oblivious to the people in front of him; caught up in the maelstrom of his band’s music, or perhaps just reflecting the disinterest of many, he turns in on himself then expels great cathartic roars and expletives. If they were on later, in smaller confines, then they would be devastating. As it is, The Twilight Sad have a committed and beholden gaggle, swaying awestruck at the front of a field. *DW*

Johnny Flynn

As onlookers adjust their eyes to the closeting darkness of the Film & Theatre tent, something unspoken hangs in the air during Johnny Flynn’s second set of the weekend. His guitar aches and hums whilst those perilously young, wholesome features hide an old soul and a burgeoning wordsmith. Today, he stitches his delicately crafted songs together with threads of poetry, whilst members of his band, The Sussex Wit, grant both sparse accompaniment and rousing weight. His sign off, ‘Tickle Me Pink’, is played to a film made as he wandered the festival over the preceding days. It’s a fitting and stirring culmination to a set from a man with much promise on his long horizon. *DW*

Johnny Flynn (TP)

The Wave Pictures

Shorn of a larger audience by both the rain and clashes with Blondie and Black Lips, those who huddle at the front of the Lake Stage watching The Wave Pictures are treated to what is surely one of the festival highlights. ‘Long Island’ is an early triumph, fired off by a supremely confident band. Confident enough to throw together lines like: “I was an auto-focus illuminator-flash-gun in aqua-marine biology blue / Spitting out prints I printed you on photon quality glossily-greasy-chip-paper with a tortilla dip chaser / and then later / I pinned you down.” It’s flash wordplay but without sounding forced or detracting from the power-pop magic on which the words sit. In Dave Tattersall there is also a guitar hero spilling out; blazing solos fly out of songs where before there was none, indicative of a band honed by years on the road, and yet they are still one that retains a twinkling wryness - also the product of those years... spent kicking against things. Understated brilliance. *DW*

Johnny Foreigner

This is Johnny Foreigner’s year, and the crowd’s note-for-note recital of the start of ‘Cranes and Cranes and Cranes’ seems fitting after a glorious 2008 thus far. Messy, loud, and heart-stoppingly brilliant, you get the feeling that come album two in 20XX, Johnny Foreigner will have morphed into a bigger and better beast. ‘Hennings Favourite’ – one of debut LP Waited Up ‘Til It Was Light’s highlights – sounds absolutely massive here, promoting the idea that they’re the most likely candidate in British rock’s ranks to hit the ‘big time’ sometime in the near future. See you on the main stage in a couple of years then, yeah? *BY*

Johnny Foreigner (TP)

Death Cab For Cutie (TP)

Death Cab For Cutie

Death Cab, however, are the antithesis to exciting. Whiney, dull American rock – you’ve heard the criticisms before, and you thought they were unfounded. When you see Death Cab live though, it reinforces the idea that they’re merely a band you sit in your bedroom listening to whilst crying into your pillow. What a disappointment it was when it dawned on me that Death Cab aren’t the incredible force that their critical plaudits would suggest, rather that they’re simply a few average guys playing some average songs on guitar. Bring back The Postal Service please.*BY*

Joanna Newsom

All 15,000 (educated guess) of those watching Joanna Newsom at midday on Sunday fall madly in love with the Californian songstress. Playing for the first time in a long while without an orchestra or band of any kind, her mistakes are glaringly obvious - but they come across as endearing rather than irritating. Amongst the favourites fromYs_ and _The Milk Eyed Mender, a few new numbers are aired - bluesy, piano-driven songs that bring out Newsom’s natural southern drawl hidden on her previous recorded efforts. ‘Emily’ still manages to sound as epic and overblown as it does with an orchestra behind her, and despite her protestations of not to applaud her after her mistakes, it’s hard not to express unbridled gratitude at her being here. *BY*

Joanna Newsom (TP)

Grinderman (TP)

Grinderman

Nick Cave is God. There’s no questioning it, especially when he’s playing out the cocky rock star role in Grinderman. Cave dances, kicks down mic stands, assaults roadies, all the things you’d expect him to do when taking time out from The Bad Seeds to play fuzzy no-holds-barred rock ‘n’ roll. ‘No Pussy Blues’ - the anti-anthem – is fully realised here, with Cave chanting “I must above all love myself” before the song explodes into its noisy denouement. It’s exciting stuff, and it’s where the quartet fully realise their potential. Whatever you think about the record, it’s impossible to resist their charm on stage. In many respects, Grinderman are the perfect festival band. *BY*

Tindersticks

Tindersticks round off the festival on the Uncut Stage with a shorter-than-expected set of brilliantly understated indie-rock. As soon as the crowd for Blondie (we manage to catch the end of their set, and laugh at how the mighty have fallen) exit, an almost complete audience change makes its way into the arena. One reveller comments: “Hurry up and let us miserabilists in”. Whilst being miserable might not be a perfect footnote to the festival fun, Tindersticks tonight are so beautiful and so…real that I can’t imagine any other way of ending it. No gimmicks, no light shows or funny on-stage banter, just simple whiskey-addled melancholy. The only criticism I can level at them stems from a disappointingly short set, with very little from their extensive back catalogue and more from their most recent effort, The Hungry Saw. Nothing wrong with that of course, but seeing ‘Dying Slowly’ or ‘Talk To Me’ live would have made the weekend.*BY*

In Photos: Latitude Festival 2008