Sorry this blog's been quiet these past few days. I've actually been squatting over at the Latitude blog. The extended Uncut family all spent an excellent weekend up there at the festival, and there are something like 40 blogs you can check out on all our highlights.
Without wanting to turn this space into a shameless plug for Uncut, I’d just like to point you in the direction of the blogs the Uncut team has been posting on uncut.co.uk over the weekend from the Latitude festival.
Bob Dylan fans still reeling from the unexpected news that Amy Winehouse and Lily Allen producer Mark Ronson has remixed “Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I’ll Go Mine) – the mind, she boggles – may have something to get more obviously excited about.
They call this time the gloaming -- night coming down, all colours leached from the sky. It seems a remarkably appropriate moment for the Arcade Fire to take the stage and close Latitude Year two with an enormous bang. And some fireworks.
The last few hours of Latitude 2007 and it’s starting to feel like the fall of Saigon, but only in a genteel and latte-sipping way. As night engulfs the woods and almost the entire remaining crowd is sucked towards Arcade Fire’s headline set, there are precious few refuges left for cultural dissidents who may be immune to epic Canadian folk-rock.
Mark Lanegan, undoubtedly one of this planet’s greatest singers, hasn’t put a foot wrong in the last fifteen years. Tonight, he’s exemplary once again, but it’s hard to shake the feeling he’s made his first mistake.
It's a criminal shame that one of the finest bands to come out of the planet's lower end should play to a half-empty tent. Australian indie charmers Howling Bells were more than up to the challenge, proving unequivocally that a voice like a loudhailer channelling angels can overcome anything – even having Arcade Fire as their audience competition.
The festival's most entertaining front man is, by a country mile, Jarvis Cocker. His colourful, between song digressions are frequently priceless and, on the odd occasion, better than the songs themselves.
Such has been the drooling media focus on Kate Bush this week, it might be tough to imagine British music journalists listening to anything else these past few days. I'm not, in fairness, exempt from the hysteria: here's...