Saturday starts with a surprise: an unannounced midday solo set from Julia Jacklin on the Garden Stage. Her stark confessionals can be almost uncomfortably intimate, especially at this early hour, but Jacklin is a winning presence, especially when ambushed with a birthday cake (she turns 34 today). “So much attention all at once!” she blushes.
It’s Brown Horse’s first time on a big festival stage, but they instantly feel like they belong, their rich accordion-and-pedal-steel-assisted country-rock filling the air. The songs from this year’s Reservoir album already feel like timeworn classics – which is very much the idea – while several newies bode well for the next one. They also deliver a brilliant and timely bonus: a cover of Woody Guthrie’s “All You Fascists Bound To Lose” in the style of “Cortez The Killer”.
Lebanese psych-rockers Sanam are a fantastic new discovery on the Garden Stage. Their addictive concoction of microtonal melodies, bowed electric guitar and bass-synth rumbles acts a raindance, summoning forth the day’s only few drops of the wet stuff.
Click here for all our End Of The Road coverage
As Mermaid Chunky take the stage – a late but inspired replacement for Lisa O’Neill – it’s amusing to watch an entire field of people suddenly look quizzically at their pints of craft ale as if they’ve been spiked. The colourful recorder-rave duo are joined by eight neo-pagan dancers in wild ribboned costumes, including one sporting a giant shaggy sheep’s head. The entire experience is like the LSD sequence from a folk horror movie; you half-expect to turn around and see Edward Woodward burning inside a giant wicker man.
Except of course Mermaid Chunky’s intentions are thoroughly benign. As one of them dons an oversized cowboy-hat-cum-lampshade to lead the crowd in a lassoing line dance to a synth-country banger, you have to admire their sizeable chutzpah.
Camera Obscura’s Caledonian indie-soul feels a little polite by comparison. But just as attentions begin to wander, they unleash a volley of cast-iron songwriting brilliance in the form of “The Sweetest Thing”, “Hey Lloyd, Are You Ready To Be Heartbroken” and “French Navy”. The Garden Stage arena swoons in unison.
Whether it’s a result of hip-hop samples, Spotify algorithms or just continuing to make very good music, Slowdive’s triumphant renaissance is richly deserved. If there is a sneaking suspicion that recent hit songs like “Kisses” may have been crafted a little too self-consciously for their unexpected new teenage audience, that is blown away by an intense and enthralling Woods stage headline set.
This is no band of veterans going through the motions, Nick Chaplin’s bass slung ever lower as he pummels out the hefty low notes that anchor the band’s dreamy haze to the here and now. Rachel Goswell is a spellbinding presence in a black cowl, her voice blending with Neil Halstead’s, both still very much in touch with the innocent rapture of their early iteration. The best moments come when Goswell swaps her keyboard for a guitar, adding another layer of fuzz to their enveloping noise; a closing one-two of “Alison” and “When The Sun Hits” is sheer euphoria.
Slowdive return for their traditional encore of “Golden Hair”, its writer Syd Barrett’s face appearing on the big screen behind them, wreathed in swirling psychedelics. And then, as the band exit stage left with their amps still humming, they deliver a moment of pure fuck-you genius to the shoegaze haters: Syd Barrett’s face morphs into that of a grinning Sid James. Slowdive are having the last laugh.
