Music festivals are 'for' many things. They're a place
to meet friends and chat. The hospitality areas are a hive of
activity for 'industry' types to strike deals and for scenesters
to be seen. They are, most definitely, somewhere to get out of
your face and fall in a ditch. What they are not, not in the accepted sense, is a place to hear live music.
Of course, if you're a big fan of music then this won't be a problem for you - you saw Muse, Snow Patrol and The Strokes when they were playing the seedier pubs on their way up rock's slippery pole. And if you just got into The Darkness, Pink or The Strokes, then, more likely than not, you enjoy the 'big day out' aspect of festivals as much as hearing the music as it wafts across a field of staggering, shrieking, drunken punters.
Personally, I prefer music in smaller, more intimate venues. A festival's massive lineup does offer the chance to dip in to an array of bands as big as you could hope to see in a couple of months of concerted city-centre gig-going, but 20-odd minutes of a band situated several light years away is as satisfying for me, I'm afraid, as BBC3's TV coverage.
Of course, the frustrations start before we've even negotiated the seething mass of bodies that block our path between stages. M25-scale tailbacks, and the various other problems associated with free passes (not that freeloaders can really complain, can we?) mean I completely miss Dogs Die in Hot Cars.Once inside, all I see is a pixelly Beta Band bidding their audience cheerio, which doesn't exactly put me in the festival mood. The fact that another band underlined on my running order, The Crimea, have been unexpectedly brought forward half an hour, doesn't help my demeanour (and while we're at it, Mission of Burma, leaked on a record label press release, have managed to cancel before they were even announced!)
Well, at least the rain stays off.
So,
save for a glimpse of Black Eyed Peas - 2 underwhelming minutes
of far-away and very unfestival-like sound - the first port of
call is mid-afternoon, for British Sea Power on the NME
stage. They have a strange 'image'; a selection of shrubbery
adorns their amps and instruments along with what we can only
hope are fake owls and eagles. The branches are in fact camouflage
- the band have a military bearing including a keyboardist who
acts as back-up drummer, donning helmet and beating a snare presumably
liberated from an army marching band, which he takes on his expedition
through the audience. Potential recruits abound, brandishing
branches and, oddly, a pigeon on a stick. Musically, BSP's roots
are are decidedly 80s, with hints of the epic rock of Echo and
the Bunnymen or The Teardrop Explodes, though there's a harder
edge to be heard in 'Remember Me' which sadly lacks power due
to disappointing early-set sound. They've got it together eventually
though and start to enjoy themselves - frontman Yan whooping,
David Byrne-style and leading his troops through the obtusely
epic 'Carrion'. 
See what I was saying about the Blackeyed Peas? Take
that and multiply it by infinity for Pink. Ok, we only heard
2 minutes of her before we scurried off, but the Mariah Carey-style
power ballad that she was wowing the throng with completely typifies
what makes T 'different' from other musical events. But we're
impatient types and The Last Great Wilderness await us
in the Tbreak tent. Featuring at least some ex-members of former
stadium rockers in waiting Annie Christian, the band have a much
harder, 'alt.rock' bent, but still with the nous for a good chorus.
I wish I could recall track names as the opening song is 'epic'
- along with the mid-set one with 'love' as the theme (see what
I mean?), instant classics. However, there's a mainstream plod
a couple of songs in which rather spoils a set which could otherwise
border on perfection and get them out of the tents and onto the
big stage - perhaps the NME stage, where Funeral for a Friend
are purveying their teen-friendly angst. Actually, they sound
better than on record, basically a low-rent At The Drive-in -
ok, lacking the tunes, but hey, perhaps that festival spirit
is creeping in...
Fatigue is already setting in, so while I believe
we stayed in the tent, we did catch a little of Keane - a band
who have bored me on record with limp tunes, they sound like
they've at least beefed up their live sound, which is quite necessary
for the outdoor stage. Anyway, back to the Tuts tent, where Ash
are showing how ROCK they are as Tim Wheeler enters the arena
and contravenes half-a-dozen fire regulations. Sadly I can't
see if the flame is a burning Flying V - he has a good half-dozen
stashed at the side of the stage - but the crowd which has packed
the tent rather suggests they would be better placed on the main
stage. What's within the band's control is their current direction
and their concentration on big dumb metal at the expense of their
traditional crafted songwriting. Example: "This one's called
'Detonator"... <brief intro>... "Detonator! Detonator!"
My view of this as a bad career move is endorsed by their fanbase
- 'Girl from Mars' and 'A Life Less Ordinary' are met by frenzied
adulation; 'Clones' and 'Slipstream' by general indifference.
Even the rather limp 'Walking Barefoot' stands out. Tim and
chums: take note.