The Young Knives @ Leeds Festival 2008
By Ian SugdenBritish Sea Power start the final day and drive away any remnants of the morning's deluge. Unfortunately the wind, or the Main Stage's volume limiter, conspire to also wash away the sound, so only the manic flag waving at the front gives hint to how good they are.
Cramming the Alternative Stage and spilling out the sides into the roasting sunshine, it seems everyone is here to see Michael Macintyre entertain with hilarious over-the-top take on social stereotypes.
"Tantrum of the Weekend" award goes to The Mystery Jets, when they're told they only have eight minutes remaining. Instead of making the most of it and giving everyone two more fine indie songs, they moan and whine at the crowd, trying to insight a riot, and then when that fails, they stomp off stage kicking over a couple of mic-stands on the way.
Seasick Steve has grown in self esteem since he first appeared in the UK in 2006. He now seems comfortable in the limelight and not so humbled by the rapturous cheers. Featuring a live drummer, instead of just the Mississippi Drum Machine, his blues have lost none of their foot-stamping appeal.
Following on from Flogging Molly in the Lockup Tent, Bloc Party get the party started on the Main Stage. The Killers follow, and seem to actually seem to take advantage of the swirling noise that the Main Stage has been creating. They also show a lot more charisma than their previous "show up, play, leave" appearances, but tonight I want to see the Manics.
Whilst heading over to the NME stage I am distracted by a strange noise coming from the Alternative Tent and decide to take a small detour. The strange noise turns out to be Transgressive Recordings Presents... So So Modern and the detour turns out to be permanent. It's a shame they were pitted against the likes of The Killers and the Manics, or more than 100 people would have witnessed this little gem of a set.
Emerging into an empty wasteland of litter and abandoned folding chairs, bereft of any sign of life, we realise that everything else has long finished. So, after acquiring some of the more serviceable chairs, we head back in to wait for The Young Knives. The welcome comfort of the chairs quickly become redundant, however, as everyone is determined to dance away the last remaining moments of the festival.
Returning to the campsite in the hope of finding a small bonfire to sit round, we are confronted by several raging infernos as large groups of people, un-moderated by any sign of security crews, burn everything in sight. Slightly concerned by the uncontrolled nature and size of the fires, and the densely packed tents, we join the 100s of people grabbing whatever they can and fleeing the war-zone, to wait out the night in line for the first bus back to civilisation.
