T in the Park is of such a massive size nowadays that an extra stage or two never go amiss, and this year the BBC Introducing Stage has some fine up-and-coming acts who have been tipped for the top. (Or at least a small residency at one of the bars in Butlins, where they’ll play lounge versions of the latest McFly and Jonas Brothers hits as their dreams of fame slip away, their faces slowly contorting in disappointment... Awesome!)
Few of those are finer than the native Findo Gask, furrowing under quaint electronic belches and squeaks with some fine melodies to hum along to, in the process presenting themselves like a plusher Postal Service.
And for another hotly tipped act, why not mosey along to The Temper Trap? Anthemic indie that’s thankfully at the other end of the soporific spectrum from Coldplay, and rousing enough to keep you going until Seasick Steve sidles on to the Main Stage and brings the mid-afternoon blues to T in the Park (though that may already have arrived if it’s bucketing down, but still).
Then the prodigiously talented singing, song-writing pianist Regina Spektor arrives on stage King Tut’s Wah Wah Tent to charm yet another crowd into submission. Sometimes she seems so cutesy-pie and perfect that I worry she’s like Gizmo the Mogwai in Gremlins, and that if anybody feeds her after midnight or douses her in water she’ll transform into an awful, snarling creature devoid of any talent whatsoever, wandering the lands bringing chaos wherever she goes. (A bit like Amy Winehouse then, I guess.)
Then there’s The Game on the NME Stage, which I had hoped would be an unexpected theatrical performance of the Michael Douglas-starring film of the same name, but instead turns out to be some rapper with a tattoo on his face who looks all gnarly and mean on his Myspace.
In fact, he looks so gnarly and mean that he’s now apparently playing BA Barracus in the new A Team movie. Do you think that he’s in character enough that if we tell Keane they need to get him on a plane The Game will knock those suckers out? Got to be worth a try.
Then there’s Boys Noize destroying the Slam Tent with his bone-rattlingly noisy brand of DJing, which should be banging enough to rouse even 60-something Seasick Steve from an early evening nap. Techno has rarely been so devilishly dirty, so for goodness sake make sure no children are in the vicinity, their poor little ears simply won’t know what to make of such depraved sounds.
Bloc Party have cultivated an unfortunately dour reputation, but whether that’s their or the media’s fault, it mattered little when they proved fantastic headliners at Glastonbury’s Other Stage last month. That they’re so far down the Sunday Main Stage bill is testament to the strength of T in the Park’s line-up.
Thankfully, it then gives you a chance to catch a bit of Lily Allen, who should be bright and cheery, effortlessly charming the crowd on the NME Stage with some laidback pop meanderings before you go off to see Ladyhawke at the Futures Stage and see how things can kick off when you put some effort into it. Feisty electro-pop, with the New Zealander also known as Pip Brown previously succinctly described as “Kim Wilde meets PJ Harvey”.
Then Blur, oh Blur, is there anything more that need be said about the reformed Britrockers? No? Oh well, there you go.
However, if you can prize yourselves away from the Main Stage draw, then there’ll be no richer reward than seeing Mogwai close King Tut’s Wah Wah Tent. As anyone who saw them at the first Connect festival can attest to, they’re absolutely stunning in a festival situation, and should provide an epic, sweeping finale to an epic, sweeping weekend. Well, I say that, though I guess in reality there’ll be a lot of sweeping to be done on the T in the Park site come Monday morning...
