Saturday. For some, it was the day of the first hangover of the weekend. For a fair few, it would simply be remembered as 'Blink Day'; as one of the most anticipated reunions was to provide the headliner for the second day of Leeds Festival. But for everyone, it would be an unforgettable day of music for one reason or another.
Contrary to the many ominous weather reports in the days leading up to the festival, it was a dry and at times, a rather bright day. As the sun rose and shed light across the now slightly fraying campsites, hazy festival-goers dragged themselves out of their tents and picked their way across the ever expanding minefield of fast food packaging strewn across the wasteland. The vast spectrum of Hunter Wellies adding colour to the landscape. The toilets, having been in use for up to four days now, were starting to add a certain musk to the air to mingle with the crackle of excitement occupying it.
The line up for the day was really rather swoonsome. The Lock Up Stage magically transformed into the Dance tent overnight like a wonderful techno butterfly. It set a stage for the stupendous Roots 'Witness The Fitness' Manuva to headline, after a day of electro-beat pleasure courtesy of acts like Four Tet, Metronomy and Magnetic Man. The ever shimmering Lights pleasantly eased the crowd out of their groggy state with the first slot of the day, and Holy Fuck deserve a mention after their triumphant set left many tongues wagging.
Journalistically (of course) earwigging the conversation of the people setting up a camp fire alarmingly close to the back of my tent on Saturday morning, I overheard the discussion of an observation I myself had made. Despite the weather being a bit of a wash-out... to the point of being damn icy come nightfall, there was a stronger trend than ever for young girls to be wearing 'teeny teeny tiny hotpants'. They were once again defying the chill of the arena that afternoon; bare legs as far as the wincing eye could see. I doubt there's much else that can make you feel older than worrying about youngsters catching pneumonia. Or for the gentlemen, the discomfort of feeling like they have to divert their eyes constantly for fear of earning a rather unsavoury reputation.
Away from the sex offender's register and on to the Festival Republic tent, which was a pick n' mix of tasty treats for the ears to enjoy. Out of the earlier slots you had the likes of Sound of Guns and the indie-pop-tastic General Fiasco to sweeten the day, before Tame Impala brought their irresistible swarthy sixties sound to the sunshine of the afternoon. Minus The Bear made a welcome return before pop-rock pin-ups One Night Only got a chance to show off their new material from their self-titled second album. Caribou were stunning with 'Odessa' sounding just as perfect live as on their sublime record 'Swim'. British Sea Power were a strong headliner but had even stronger competition for crowd grabbing that evening.
Without a doubt, the NME/Radio 1 line-up for Saturday was flawless. The Joy Formidable's early slot became something of a talking point when singer Ritzy Bryan did a Hendrix and smashed the shit out of her guitar only a matter of minutes into their set. Not what you'd necessarily expect from the floaty, atmospheric Welsh three-piece. The afternoon was due to only get better and better with Local Natives, Los Campesinos! and the smouldering Wild Beasts taking to the stage. The Drums cruelly clashed with the Limp Bizkit set on the main stage but instigated nothing short of a 'wow' from those that got to attend. Into the evening, Foals stole the show with a breathtaking set, demonstrating exactly why they are in the running for the Mercury Music Prize. The gorgeously charming We Are Scientists took the the stage in fantastic humour and euphorically announced that 'today we have had the most fun we have ever had at a festival!' We can believe that from them. Klaxons headlined to top off a spectacular day with an unforgettable set.
So finally, to the Main Stage, for a day that had a memorable story to tell for so many reasons. Chapter One, the sound of sunshine courtesy of Motion City Soundtrack and The King Blues. Chapter Two, pure emo and pop-punk indulgence with Thrice, All Time Low and You Me At Six performing. Chapter Three took a turn down rap alley with Limp Bizkit claiming to be 'warming up' for the incredible Cypress Hill. Chapter Four: Weezer. This highly anticipated set did not disappoint in the slightest. An epic show bursting at the seams with classics, they pushed the boundaries of expectation even further when Rivers Cuomo not only continued the day's instrument destroying, but also gave the stewards an en masse heart attack as he began to shimmy across the top of the metal fencing enclosing the arena at the side of the stage; much to the delight of the hysterical crowd. Chapter Five: Paramore. Making many a young man weak at the knees, a storming set from the 'Misery Business' band. And then, to close, Chapter Six: Heartbreaking Disappointment. Blink-182. A Tom DeLonge induced nightmare, the less said about it the better. Check out the review on here for the full Quincy-esque post-mortem notes. The one saving grace however, was to see the day close on Travis Barker rotating 360 degrees on a tilting platform for a drum solo encore. Wowzers.
So after a very busy and mixed day, it was time for the kids to hit the silent disco, and for all the older folk to shuffle off to their sleeping bags. But before I drifted off to sleep that night, I couldn't help but indulge in a little more eavesdropping. A chap nearby made my ears prick up as he very excitedly detailed to his friends how, when in the arena that night he found himself needing the toilet and decided to piss into a bottle; '...and then I threw it into the crowd! Yep! I was that guy!'. Well 'that guy', I would like to wrap up this day's summary by taking the opportunity to speak on the behalf of the civilised population that attend events like Leeds festival. You sir, are a dick. It is such utterly foul and animalistic actions that can take the edge off what would otherwise be a fantastic weekend. In future, if you feel so inclined to be that revolting, please swing by one of the shops that vend those hoodies with the uncensored slogan 'C*NT' emblazoned across the front, just so we know who you are.
What a Saturday.