Reading 2012: Azealia Banks, Dance Stage

It’s hard to tell whether Azealia Banks is treating this just like any other performance, or if she’s on the brink of losing it. She definitely doesn’t seem phased when greeted with a Dance tent full to the brim of a crowd of all ages; from ravers with whistles purchased from Magaluf, to the average punter with a pint in their hand, who for better or worse can’t help but get glued into what turns into a chorus of jumping idiots. Wonderful idiots.

‘212’ quite naturally closes. The now-famed Lazy Jay sample giving way to the loudest scream of the festival encountered so far, with every hopeless attempt to rap along to every single word only adding to the fun. It seems those attending know their way around an expletive, and rarely will you hear the ‘C word’ screamed with such volume and gusto.

Meanwhile Banks shrugs it off, pacing the stage with only the backdrop of her head-bopping DJ providing any distraction. As she swings from ‘Van Vogue’ to ‘Liquorice’ with nonchalance and ease, you almost deem her a little spoiled. This is the kind of reception every kid dreams of receiving. But then again, she’s merely acting as an assured entertainer. For all we know she could have exited the stage in floods of tears before calling her family back home. You wouldn’t blame her. The sheer scope of her fame - a fame which will only blossom, so long as she gets this bloody album out - was never more plain to see than in this cosy, sweaty Dance tent.