Field Day 2012

‘This is just like the pied piper, but for hipsters,’ observes a girl as we scuttle along trying to keep up with the procession of achingly cool music fans crossing the bridge over a slightly murky looking lake. Indeed, it wouldn’t be a total shock to see headliners Franz Ferdinand trotting ahead tooting a tin whistle to lead the way to Victoria Park, because everyone is on a mission. Wafting meticulously written clash-finders and sporting practical rucksacks, today is all about seeing music, and with such a jam-packed line-up of newly hyped bands and firm favourites, it is no real surprise that the military precision approach is winning out. Despite the somewhat gloomy conditions, and the horrendously overpriced pints, everyone is determined to have an absolute Field Day.

Deciding to rouse our spirits with something loud, DIY gravitate towards the Bleed stage, just in time to catch Com Truise. To put it politely, Mr Truise’s staging errs on the side of minimalism, with just a macbook and a couple of drum pads on top of a kit box. The set kicks off with some electronic tinkering akin to a sonic screwdriver being reprogrammed, before an onslaught of music; a shuddering bassquake reaching Richter scale levels. Seth Haley has all the rich, dancey vibes you could ever wish for at Bleed, but he makes eye contact with the audience all of five times; and his amount of concentration makes him look a bit po-faced. It’s a bit of a shame really – if only he would look up he’d see that the whole tent is going crazy to the sludgy funk of ‘Flightwave’.

Leaving behind Bleed, we head past the bandstand over to Eat Your Own Ears, where a small man in a red bobble hat (who on closer inspection turns out to be Paisley Adams) is flinging himself across the stage with boundless enthusiasm. Pond have just amped up, and people who were previously happy to lounge on the grass with a cider are getting up to have a closer look at the psychedelic mayhem unfolding on Field Day’s largest stage. Fleshed out by three members of Tame Impala, plus The Silents’ Jamie Terry, we have high expectations, and all of our anticipation proves worthwhile, because Pond absolutely owns it. It isn’t often that you witness a man brandishing a flute with rock n’ roll heroism but today young Paisley is doing just that, as well as haphazardly swinging his microphone round in alarmingly generous loop-the-loops. We can just picture the wincing faces of the tech team when the mic crashes into the PA system with a dull thud, but the crowd loves the tomfoolery. Also managing to successfully sing live despite the never ending dance routines (which is more than can be said of Cheryl Cole at the Jubilee Concert later on in the bank holiday) Pond are highly entertaining, and ones to watch.

After all that excitement, we make a quick dash over to the Shacklewell Arms tent, where hotly tipped Scouse band Outfit are setting up. Managing to bag a place near the front, we notice we’re stood in a sea of close friends of the band, along one of the member’s Dads shouting hearty words of encouragement. The supportive atmosphere spreads across the tent as the jaunty piano riff of ‘Two Islands’ starts up, and all the nonsense we’ve heard about Outfit squatting in Merseyside mansions and dressing up as aliens and running around space museums goes flying out the window. Outfit don’t need the gimmicks any more, and are clearly, nice, talented young lads. They can’t help but beam from ear to ear as the whole tent bounces along raucously, yowling the chorus of “I don’t know anyone else in here”. “I’m getting electric shocks off this mic but I’m still having a wail of a time” cries Andrew Hunt, laughing his head off, met by the beaming grin of fellow vocalist Tom Gorton. The slinking and mysterious ‘Vehicles’ that follows is another blinder; in fact the whole set is a delight. The band wrap up to the much welcome sight of blue skies and sunshine peeping through the clouds.

The afternoon is upon us now, and with the important task of preparing for all the squeezing into rammed tents that we have ahead of us, we nip over to a rather quaint little camper van that sells pizza for a pit stop. After a brief sit down under a tree, surrounded by skipping people in dinosaur onesies, we are revitalised. Heading back towards an over-spilling Shacklewell Tent we stumble upon Jeffery Lewis & The Junkyard, and catch the last half of a cheerful and upbeat set, pitching up just in time for ‘Slogans’. Surrounding the tent some people are happy to have impromptu picnics and sing along in gaggles, but others are hell-bent on the rather fruitless task of trying to climb up the tent rope for a better view. The combination of poor agility and one too many ciders makes for quite the spectacle, and for the first time in the day the sun is beating down on Victoria Park.

Jeffery Lewis and band finish their set to rowdy applause, and amid the confusion we worm our way into the tent. Zulu Winter takes to the stage next, and much to our delight we are on front barrier. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” whispers my friend, fixated on the bassist with his tousled blond quiff. Playing the part of tender, vulnerable front man very well, Will Daunt teeters on the edge of the stage clutching at his shirt collar and unleashing spine-tingling vocals across the tent. Daunt has the crowd in the palm of his hand, and even bassist Iain Lock is impressed, visibly mouthing “wow” as the throngs of spectators go absolutely nuts for ‘Let’s Move Back To Front’. Rattling through majority of songs from debut album ‘Languages’, Zulu Winter seem entirely at home on the stage, and are the best thing we’ve seen so far today.

Leaving Shacklewell Arms, we dash over to Village Mentality, seemingly along with every single person at Field Day. Everyone is vying to see one lady, Grimes. Apparently this is the biggest tent on site, but it seems ridiculously miniature now as the punters pack in like sardines. Managing to get within about 20 ft of the tent opening, we crane our necks, and can just make out Claire Boucher clad in camouflage beginning her one-woman onslaught of banging drums and blooping noises. ‘Oblivion’ starts up, and with the half-muffled quality of being outside the tent, the whole effect is eery and haunting. Playing extended live jams of the much-loved material from ‘Visions’ along with a couple of old favourites, Grimes is doing a stellar job. It just seems a no-brainer that, as the must-see act of the day, Grimes should’ve been on the main stage.

Another band is currently setting up on main stage Eat Your Own Ears though, so just before the exit stampede begins at Grimes we hurry away to catch Metronomy, who deliver the goods as soon as the funk-infused bass of ‘Heartbreaker’ kicks into life. In recorded form, this is a song that can sometimes be a little minimalist and sparse – live it is a different kettle of fish altogether; becoming a rowdy singalong. Nearby, inebriated men wearing pink face paint start to stage synchronized dance routines in celebration. People are dancing as far as the sizeable portaloo queues, but seem to be having too fun amongst themselves to watch the stage. Metronomy might be reeling out the tunes, but the crowd seem slightly distracted, and start to move off in dribs and drabs after the final chords of ‘The Look’.

It’s no wonder the punters at Field Day can’t settle down, because Metronomy’s set marks the beginning of some fairly horrendous stage clashes, with a difficult choice between SBTRKT or the Laneway Stage. Military organization becomes paramount as we beat the less prepared crowds, opting, after brief deliberation, for the nearby Laneway. Dense smoke and strobe lights fill the place, and Alexis Krauss bounds onto the stage wearing an incredible studded jacket. Sleigh Bells have arrived. Rattling through ‘Infinity Guitars’ and ‘Tell ‘Em’ in quick succession, this set is a slash guitar filled frenzy, and the tent is going insane. The moshpit is reaching fatal energy levels kicking off in front of the stage, and security stick up some shoddy A4 signs meekly stating that the tent is full. The thing is nobody really gives a stuff. Even away from the moshpit people are heaving friends up onto their shoulders, and we are nearly crushed by a precariously balanced girl getting extremely into ‘Comeback Kid’. Sleigh Bells put on an incredible live show without fail because they are having just as much fun as the audience, and by the end Krauss has hurled herself headlong into a trademark crowd surf. As the set ends, a jubilant crowd is left hoping for more, but there’s no time to mope because the brassy call of a trumpet starts to peal across the site summoning everybody to Beirut.

Back at Eat Your Own Ears, the mood is serene, in stark contrast to the sheer madness of Sleigh Bells. As the pomp of ‘The Shrew’ rings across the site, people hold ciders aloft and sway from side to side, having sing-alongs with their neighbouring spectators. One particularly enterprising Field Day attendee has attached a toy monkey to a stick, and has decided to be the standard-bearer for Beirut’s set. As daylight fades and the tell-tale accordions of ‘East Harlem’ come to life, a line of migrating birds fly over the stage, and everybody exclaims “ah!” at the beauty of the moment. For a lot of people the chance to see Beirut at the top of a festival bill is a very special one, and musical prodigy Zach Condon is having a great time up on stage. Playing a nice selection of material from last album ‘The Rip Tide’ as well as older favourites, Beirut are a crowd-pleaser, and not even a smattering of rain can dampen the spirits in Victoria Park.

As the night closes in there is one final choice to make – whether to opt for the dark psychedelic fuzz of Mazzy Star or the shamelessly feel-good wares of Franz Ferdinand. We decide to observe from a safe distance, a wise choice as the crowd goes completely nuts for the opening riff of ‘Take Me Out’. After seeing so much up-and-coming music we almost need a taste of slightly dated pop, and in a surreal way Franz Ferdinand is akin to being back at tween festival T4 On The Beach, but this time surrounded by grown-ups Rattling through ‘the hits’ in quick succession, Franz Ferdinand wrap up what has been a rather excellent and utterly jam-packed day of new music. As the rain gets heavier and everyone starts to trudge out of Victoria Park, people are excitedly chattering and comparing bands they’ve seen during their day – and indeed there have been rich pickings. While this one-day festival doesn’t offer a whole lot else other than the tunes, it punches well above its weight in terms of a line-up fit to burst. Our only regret upon leaving is the wealth of other equally brilliant music we missed - it’s a pity we couldn’t rig up some kind of cloning machine or a set of extendable eyes and ears in order to see everything. That being said, everything we saw today more than delivered the goods, with a darn-sight cheaper price tag than the over-priced corporate festival affairs elsewhere. We’ll see you next year Field Day, DIY had a ball!