Their jaunty punk pop amuses only the most enthusiastic of revellers however, and many prefer to join the queue for wellies accumulating at the side of the stage.
Engineers do an impressive job of waking up their sleepy onlookers with a stunningly intense set. A gorgeous combination of Sigur Ròs-style melodies coupled with the ‘quiet-quiet-LOUD’ sonics of Mogwai leaves few without shivers down the spine. Beautiful.
If Engineers are a gentle release from slumber, Modey Lemon are a bucket of water to the face. The young Pittsburgh hopefuls stumble their way through an aggressive punk battleground but fail to make a lasting impression on the peaceful gathering. Maybe it’s too early, or maybe the three-piece need to drop the over-impersonated Ramones act.
Songs breaching the five-minute mark are always in danger of boring restless festival crowds, yet despite favouring this approach, The Stands pull off a respectable set which is anything but dull. Liverpool-based bands inevitably invite The Coral and Zutons comparisons, but this four-piece have more in common with bluesy American funk bands whilst still retaining that famous psychadelic edge.
Cheerful Edinburgh songstress KT Tunstall brings an eclectic blend of folky pop to the afternoon. KT is part of a new breed of female singer-songwriters who exude talent and wit, but there’s one crucial problem: they all sound exactly the same. It’s a formula that works, but soon becomes repetetive. Still, the crowd love it and oblige the grinning vocalist by bouncing along happily to hits from her album ‘Eye To The Telescope’.
More pop anthems are afoot as Athlete master the art of the quintessential summer tune. Suggestions of potential Coldplay rivalry are justifiable as the four-piece knock out a series of floaty electronica-tinted melodies. Latest hit ‘Wires’ is dedicated to the ‘Make Poverty History’ campaign as the crowd join hands at 4pm to mark the symbolic occasion. Politics over, the crowd enjoy a euphoric finale, rounding off this important Glastonbury set.
To some they will always be the lesser man’s Franz Ferdinand, but Sunderland boys The Futureheads prove that not everyone needs eyeliner and matinées to make angular art rock. Combining complex vocal harmonies and jagged punk riffs, they rattle off their self-titled debut to enamoured fans. As ‘Hounds of Love’ echoes around the field it’s clear to see this four-piece can offer just as much as the skinny tie wearing Scots.