Well, here we all are. The first rain of the day is just beginning to fall, just a gentle drizzle, so nothing to really complain about and certainly nothing like last night's epic cloudburst which made me fear that when I got here this afternoon I'd find Henham Park deep enough in water to float an ark. Just made the long trek back to the press tent where we're sending these blogs from after seeing The Pretenders on the Obelisk Stage, which is that big covered thing about three miles the other side of those trees over there. Michael's actually busy writing a review of what I thought was a pretty sensational show, even better than their recent turn in Hyde Park, where they were supporting Neil Young. It was great to hear a few things they didn't play the other week - including a version of "Kid", dedicated, and not for the first time, to the late Jimmy Honeyman-Scott and Pete Farndon, "Stop Your Sobbing" and a fantastic version of "Day After Day" from Pretenders II. As Michael will no doubt also mention, one of the highlights of what I'm sure will be talked about as one of this year's best festival sets was a sensational take on Dylan's "Forever Young". Anyway, just off to see Regina Spektor, unless some magent-like device draws me mysteriously towards the nearest bar. Then it's my old friends Squeeze, and another chance to be reminded of the mis-spent youth I still seem to be living. Allan Jones

OK, I know it's early days but I might have just seen one of the performances of the festival. Fever Ray is the solo project of Karin Dreijer Andersson, one half of Swedish brother-sister duo The Knife. Her self-titled debut album, released earlier this year, won its fair share of acclaim, taking The Knife's sound - loosely, eerie, gothic techno-pop - and slowing it down, adding in strange ethnic and Far Eastern influences, cold synths and beats mixing with chimes, bead shakers and tribal drums. Seeing Fever Ray live in the mid-afternoon Uncut Arena, though, makes you feel like the album is merely half the picture. Lasers cut through the half-light, illuminating the huge clouds of smoke that billow off the stage, and Karin - wearing an outfit that makes her look halfway between The Emperor from Star Wars and a totem pole - walks on leading a strange bunch of backing musicians: a clown in a cassock, a sort of Inuit tribeswomen, and two odd, faceless bird people that look like they wait in the restaurant of your nightmares. Rather than distracting from the music, though, this bizarre tableau only focuses your attention on the eerie beauty of the music. Karin could probably captivate the crowd with her clear, flawless vocal alone, but many songs feature her voice distorted, or pitched down to a crunchy electronic baritone. Yet there's no mistaking that the likes of "Triangle Walks" and "When I Grow Up" are essentially pop songs - and as teenagers dance up front and girls clamber on to their boyfriends' shoulders, it's immensely heartening to see such wilfully challenging music really make a connection with something as disparate and flightly as a festival audience. Anyway. Enough chatter. Next port of call is Regina Spektor, so I shall bid you adieu. LOUIS PATTISON

The eclectic mix of Latitude's tents and stages provided a perfect setting for the theatricality of Brighton's The Mummers, whose early Friday afternoon set lit up the Uncut Arena, but would have been equally at home almost anywhere on the site. Their dreamy mix of chamber pop, carnival waltzes and noir fairy tales was beautifully realised by string quartet and 70s vintage synth sounds, topped off by singer and chief writer Raissa Khan-Panni's left-field lyrics and skewered vocal style. Comparisons with Bjork have been overplayed, as Raissa is more accurately reading from the same page as, say, Mary Margeret O'Hara, Judee Sill or Alison Goldfrapp. It's a sound rich in detail, conjuring up an intoxicating atmosphere all of its own. Fingers crossed, some day they'll be famous enough to be offered a Bond theme. TERRY STAUNTON

Hello campers - since touching down a couple of hours ago, I've made it my mission to dash around the Latitude site catching as many bands as possible, giving my boots their first coat of brown since Green Man '07 in the process. Hopefully they won't see quite as much muddy action this time around. First up, to the Uncut Arena for Chairlift, three young New Yorkers currently perhaps best known for giving a song, "Bruises", to an iPod advert. It's exposure they deserve, though, as this set of gently psychedelic synth-pop is both beautifully made and packed with tunes that quietly weevil their way into your consciousness. Co-frontpeople Aaron Pfenning, deadpan behind terribly cool shades, and Caroline Polachek trade vocals, while drummer Patrick Wimberly darts between kit and billowing electronics. A neat reminder that if you look beyond the current media scrum around Little Boots, La Roux et al, there's outfits doing electronic pop with more subtlety and more success - well, artistic success, anyroad. Then, over to the Sunset Arena to catch the end of Scottish indie-rock royalty the 1990s. Who are very good, at least what I see, but it's worth mentioning the Sunset Arena as an example of Latitude's main selling points. A little tent buried deep in the woods, it's the sort of beautiful little space you don't so much walk up to as ramble into, surrounded by ferns and set under towering oaks. Leaving, I run into sometime Uncut snapper Neil Thompson, who is heading in to catch the hotly tipped Goldheart Assembly. But I'm back down the hill to catch Brooklyn's Amazing Baby on the Obelisk Stage (that's the main stage, to you and me). Heard varying reports on this lot, but in the beating sun their longhaired lite-psychedelia - think MGMT, or a Mercury Rev on designer drugs - is not without its charms. More in a bit, but right now I can hear Of Montreal playing in the distance, and if they have an actual live horse on stage - it wouldn't be the first time - well, I'm not about to miss it. LOUIS PATTISON

An early and astonishing highlight of Latitude took place in the humble confines of the literary tent on Thursday night. Grace Maxwell read movingly from her book, Falling & Laughing: The Restoration Of Edwyn Collins, about her partner of 25 years and his road to recovery after suffering two strokes four years ago. As Grace stood behind a lectern on the stage, nervously leafing through the book for passages to read, Edwyn sat serenely to her left on a leather couch. Hilarious tales of the early days of Orange Juice in the 1980s and the mayhem that followed the global success of Edwyn's solo single "A Girl Like You" gave way to confessional fears and the uncertainty that his strokes visited upon the couple. With great candour and warmth, Grace recounted Edwyn's steely determination to return to as normal a life as possible. The man himself interjected occasionally with self-effacing one-liners and guttural laughter. The show-stopping moment came when Grace spoke about Edwyn leaving hospital for the first time, and how the lyrics of "Home Again" - which he'd written before his illness - resonated with the couple's struggle. To drive the point home, Edwyn broke into unaccompanied song, his voice filling every inch of the packed tent: "I'm home again Hardly certain of my role, and then I started searching for my soul again..." A lively Q&A session followed, with one audience member recalling her own mother's lengthy rehabilitation after a stroke, and Grace sparing a thought for any families who didn't have the cash boost of global hit single to help them pay for expensive expert medical care. When asked who he might want to play him, should a movie ever be made of Grace's book, Edwyn immediately nominated Gregory Peck. "We might have to raise him up, darlin'," Grace responded. "He's been dead for ages." TERRY STAUNTON Pic credit: Neil Thomson

Wise heads are out in force at Latitude, as always, and we've been eavesdropping on their conversations... 1. "Jason, we really should go and see some music or something. Mummy and daddy aren't here to stare at coloured sheep for three days." 2. "Have you ever seen so many loud and annoying teenage girls in one place? They've all gone mental after their 'A' levels." 3. "Okay, it's only Thursday night and we've done the whole Judith thing. That leaves us the rest of the weekend to enjoy ourselves." 4. "Wet-wipes are at a premium, so I think armpits are gonna be way down on the list of priorities." 5. "I'd be more up for seeing The Pretenders if Chrissie Hynde didn't look so much like my bitchy ex-girlfriend." 6. "In years to come my children will run this place, and their first move be to close down the poetry tent. They hate poetry." 7. "Oh, look! A green-filter light on a tree to make it look more like a tree! That speaks volumes." 8. "I exist in my own peculiar little world, there are areas in life that I have no interest in investigating." 9. "Those shit house doors are literally banging in the wind. I love it when real life imitates vulgar similes." 10. "I usually don't like performance art, but that lot didn't make me wretch half as much as I expected." TERRY STAUNTON