All a bit queue-y, wasn’t it, that Field day thing?  I mean, to be fair, it was their first attempt, but a bit of cursory research into recent events occurring in Victoria Park could have given them a good idea of the bar staff/attendees and toilets/attendees golden ratios.  Lovebox the other week was a model of organisation and mathematical rigour in comparison - it didn’t feel all that special at the time, but I suppose with these things you don’t notice them if they are done well…if they are done badly, as they were here, you miss several of your favourite bands as you were stuck in queues (one hour and forty minutes to get a beer, for fucks sake), emerging tired, sunburnt and grumpy and with little inclination to get down the front to dash betwen stages and enjoy the bands (and take some decent photos…yeah, sorry about that).   I spoke to some people who queued for half an hour in what they thought was a queue for the toilet, only to find they were in fact in the queue for the wine bar.  They had the far-away look in their eyes you see in the eyes of Gulf War veterans…the horror, the horror.

I saw - or heard, from my grumpy space at the side of the Homefires stage - Caribou, Fridge, The Fence Collective, Adem, Archie Bronson Outfit, Bat For Lashes and Four Tet.  I enjoyed Caribou very much indeed, especially the two drummer action (check out the appreciative security guard in the pic above, uh-huh, he felt it big time).  The Fence Collective, highlighting their “lowliest, unsigned member” Johnny Pictish were just fine, particularly at their less raucous moments.  Their spiritual leader King Creosote danced like a drunken Scottish fool (I of all people should know how one of those dances) to the Archie Bronson Outfit; I’d never heard them before, and found myself enjoying them greatly - although that may have been due to the fact on my way back from the Hieronymous Bosch-esque bar carnage I’d managed to sink a couple of ales and was feeling a bit giddy.  Bat For Lashes…now she is a talent. Not entirely convinced by the stage show (despite the Arkestra outfits), or the music, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Natasha Khan.  Part of me wants her to make a solo piano record, although I worry it would sound like Tori Amos or something and I’d lose interest.  Stayed for the start of Kieran Hebden’s show as Four Tet, which was all a bit crowd pleasing, really - I thought he was starting to consciously get away from just playing “She Moves She” and the like, towards much more interesting and improvisational live performance.  Maybe not.

At that point, I joined the queue for the exit.  Will Field Day return next year?  If it does, it will need to work bloody hard to convince me that it has learned from this year’s failures before I’d return.