Flying in from a Slovakian festival, and 34 degrees, but not complaining, Dry the River took on the T Break tent, their reputation as a new band already blossoming, with the several hundred people enthusiastically forming a crowd to see them.
Looking like a typical rock 'n' roll band, they surprised with their distinctive sound, where their folky roots and organic harmonies set them apart from the other bands in the folk-pop movement of the past few years, which has nurtured the likes of Fleet Foxes and Mumford & Sons.
Alongside blissful three part harmonies, and the operatic at time falsetto of their lead vocalist, Peter Liddle, the band seem to stem from a much more traditional core, with much less focus on the pop element of their sound. Not that they need to worry about any sort of popularity, as already they have the crowd singing along to their tracks- it would seem their reputation is spreading quicker than yesterday's mud.
With the poise and drama of the musicals, the quiet moments of their set are taken over by noise bleed from the Main Stage, but rather than allow this to spoil their delicacies, they overcome it each time, by fighting back with a triumphant volume swell until they soar.
Gracious and uplifting, Dry the River are one of T's hidden gems amongst the pop saturated bill.
Another lesser known band, or so I thought, Band Of Skulls played to a full Transmissions tent. A top tip of a certain Miss Cotton, it would seem mainstream radio is a wonderful tool by the reception they received yesterday.
The trio bring the blues via Southampton, for hair in the face head-banging, and excessive riff monsters to rock the tent. Around for some time, though their growth has been exponential recently with the release of their second album, Band Of Skulls mix the unhinged with the emotive, from sleazy filthy riffs, to soulful lead vocals, and heart-warming girl-boy harmonies.
Another band that are masters of rapid volume surges rather swells, their lullaby, Fires, from their debut album has the tent in fine voice, before the injection of a mammoth swaggering riff to stop things from getting too sentimental.
It's the gritty girth of the low-end riffs of the likes of The Devil Takes Care Of His Own that I suspect will really get the T crowd moving, but unfortunately Miss Minaj's performance was about to start- or so I thought, she was to keep us all hanging for fifty-five minutes- and the rock 'n' roll lovelies had to be left to their own devices.
Leaving unwillingly, I doubt they would have missed me in their impressive crowd, as they got all the sweet without the sour of Sunday.