We begin the day the day with Les Très Bien Ensemble signed to that bastion of indie cool that is Elefant Records. Sadly, beyond the fact that the guitarist has the same guitar as me, I don't really find any common ground. They play a sophisticated brand of gallicised pop, which although is not entirely objectionable, doesn't really capture the hearts of the crowd. They fail to make the stage their own.
The Kills (above)...hip-shaking...pouting guitarist who used to be in Scarfo...hair is in the face...basic beats...plentiful smoke machine. It's complete and fulfilling.
Lemon Jelly plunder their jolly debut e.p for this set to bring back some of the sampled goofiness of British pre-millenial beats and breaks scene.
Fischerspooner take the stage and remind us exactly why we left that beats and breaks guff behind. New album...new show. Keen to dispense the empty pomp and promises of their first album, Casey has regrouped with a tight traditional band set-up. Thus taking the show to a wider audience. Fret thee not however as costume changes and the camp theatrics are all left in there intact.
Only two tracks remain from the debut, rather pragmatically it's the two singles. Following that line of thinking, Casey also perversely thanks the main sponsor of the festival several times, knowing that he will probably be the only one to do so over the next few days.
Emerge is falsely introduced as a new 'secret' song called Peanut Butter Express. However it is played without interruption or modifications. It seems that Casey has finally relented to the whims of the audience. The mid-song interruption has now become obligatory and Casey executes it in a self-conscious and exhausted manner, almost as a mea culpa for past excesses.
In fact that is what the show feels like, tighter, more commercial, a sexy guitarist, playing the second stage like any other band, pop songs... a search for redemption.
Peaches does not cut the mustard, however. Projected dancers?! come on, since when was Lust subjected to budget cuts? Give me my daily ration of flesh, you bitch!
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