Features

Apart from all the music at last year's Latitude Festival -- and the comedy, the cabaret the poetry, and the gentle rummage through the Sunday papers in the Literary Arena -- I was naturally inclined towards the doings in the Film Arena.

A bit of a round-up today, since I've spent the past week or so reporting on gigs and messing about with the minutiae of putting a mag out. There is, amazingly, a new Karen Dalton album I'm very excited about, though I've only heard two tracks as yet.

OK, it’s more of an open air gig than an actual festival. And yes, we’re all cynical about any event where you can only buy one kind of beer but always see at least ten of its logos in every field of vision. But with great sets by the likes of Queens of the Stone Age plus The White Stripes’ only UK appearance this year, the Wireless festival in Hyde Park can’t be dismissed that easily. So I headed to its final day, with the Kaiser Chiefs topping the bill.

James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem is not, by most standards, a typical frontman. His band are second on the bill to Daft Punk in front of the Hyde Park thousands. But Murphy spends a good part of the set scratching his head, picking his ears and tinkering, obsessive-compulsively, with the tightness of his drummer's kit. Occasionally, he dances, pounding up and down on the spot like a post-punk Ozzy Osbourne. He does, though, manage to pull off one of the most curiously moving moments I've experienced at a gig in a long time.

James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem is not, by most standards, a typical frontman. His band are second on the bill to Daft Punk in front of the Hyde Park thousands. But Murphy spends a good part of the set scratching his head, picking his ears and tinkering, obsessive-compulsively, with the tightness of his drummer's kit. Occasionally, he dances, pounding up and down on the spot like a post-punk Ozzy Osbourne. He does, though, manage to pull off one of the most curiously moving moments I've experienced at a gig in a long time.

I was thinking last night about the first time I saw The White Stripes. It was spring 2001, and I was in LA to interview Queens Of The Stone Age. The night before I met up with Josh Homme, I went to the Troubadour to see this duo who were just starting to be talked about a lot by some of the smarter music business people back home.

I was thinking last night about the first time I saw The White Stripes. It was spring 2001, and I was in LA to interview Queens Of The Stone Age. The night before I met up with Josh Homme, I went to the Troubadour to see this duo who were just starting to be talked about a lot by some of the smarter music business people back home.

... Or: Where's this year's Great American Indie flick?

I know this is going to sound a bit churlish, but is it wrong to expect a very good band to really extend themselves? I ask because, for the past week or so, I've been playing the new Super Furry Animals album most days. It's lovely, without a doubt. But for some reason, it leaves me fractionally disappointed - as if them coming up with another 11 fine songs is somehow not quite good enough.

White talks to Uncut about being half Scottish and making songs with just a box of matches and a screwdriver