Scale and amazing drainage, that's what Latitude has going for it. Well, that and being just a couple of miles from the Suffolk seaside. It's a compact performance arena with only the Sunrise stage taking more than 60 seconds to walk to and 'only' 25,000 folks in your way. And though there's all the comedy, spoken word and experimental film & theatre you can handle, for this blog it's still mostly about the music, which was...
...patchy. Didn't much care for the big-stage headliners (Pet Shop Boys, Nick Cave, Grace Jones); a huge crowd over-indulged Thom Yorke's sleepy Sunday noon set; 'hot' NME darling-types like 1990s and Airborne Toxic Event exposed their dispiriting conformity to the sorts of sounds guitar bands have been making for the past five years or more. But full sets which did register in some way or other included:

:: the rumble and swoop of drum & vocal Swedish duo Wildbirds & Peacedrums, exactly what the doctor ordered after Thom Yorke

:: the permanently back-lit and mist-cloked Danish combo Mew with their slow-burning widescreen epicness - Zookeeper's boy, that's the one, no?

:: Considering how long they been out of the game and that their stock-in-trade is good old wonky Brit indiepop, The Vaselines were, well, quite the well-oiled machine. Good Glasgae banter, to boot. Then it's a short walk into the woods for...

:: ...taut indie-funk trio The Invisible filling the same sort of spot on the Sunrise Stage as Wheat had a couple of years back. Peddling a smart line in funky pop-rock with a more nuanced sound that the anthemic thud of main stage acts like White Lies and Doves, these guys plainly had, um, chops-a-gogo but happily kept them largely in the deep-freeze...

:: Impressively undimished by time, some sterling pop primers for the kids courtesy of St Etienne on the Uncut stage and The Pretenders on the main (Kid was mildly emotional)

:: And St Vincent. Now if there was one act which represented the very acme of the Latitude musical demographic, reallyrather would nominate Sallie Clark with her smartly skewed indie and Polly Jean-lite tendencies. Some acts can make 40 minutes seem like a week; this set flew by...

Disgracefully overlooked in last week's Mercury Music Prize nomiations, some good old band machinations over at Camp Danananaykroyd with bassist Laura having recently been given the elbow: 'She was sacked because she, regardless of what she is saying now to all her devoted friends, was beginning to care so little about this band that it was literally unbearable for any of us to continue doing what we love. It had turned into a living nightmare and it was her that caused that. She was insufferable towards the end.' Excellent stuff, plenty more here...

...but she's still in the new vid promoting the glorious sprawl of Some dresses:

So much time, so little to say...

So then, My Sad Captains. They released their debut album, you know. Here & elsewhere, that's what they've called it which could refer to many things but not to where you'll find some words about it. The 'here' bit is right enough .. but elsewhere? Barely. It has been unObserved. The NME mustered a blah review then the editor announced his resignation; its not know whether the two events are related.
Which, in some ways, is how this blog likes it, of course. (If it had occurred at the time, this space would really rather be called LesserSpotted.) But the wrongness of this state of affairs cannot be allowed to go unremarked. OK, the record is signally not, by any stretch of imaginings, a Great Leap Forward; a Modest Shuffle Sideways is closer to it and if you've caught them live you'll have done just this...
reallyrather has by now lost count of the shows which is partly explains the state of mild stupefaction that decends on pressing play and hearing the loping melodic twinkle of old friends like Ghost song and Change of scenery...

With e-very sinew
I deny I've seen you

Cole Porter, how'd ya miss that one?! He might not be the most dominant vocal presence but Ed Wallis' words snag you in the same way the tunes do, their insiduous charms stealthily weaving in and around your memory cells. Pretty much every tune here punches its (admittedly Bantam) weight: peppy, wistful, quietly sparkling indie-pop songcraft abounds. One curiosity is the re-working of their perkiest and most exposed song - Bad decisions,indeed. It's a bit like replacing a 100-watt bulb with one of those planet-saving varieties; worthy but dim. Embrace your inner chirpiness, people, else that way, um, Absentee lies...
[my sad captains]

To Heaven last week for Silversun Pickups' fifth or sixth London show of the year. Frontman Brian listed all the earlier venues, fairly impressive recall for such a relentless gigging machine as this LA quartet. And 'machine' might be the word since the band have now honed their two-and-a-half albums into as tight an exposition of fuzzed-out, melodic indie-rock bombast as you could wish for. This was the fourth time for reallyrather (but the first with a really decent light show) and it was clear the band's star is still in the ascendent. How many does this place hold, 1500? It was sold out two months in advance and this blog can't believe most there won't be back:

At the same venue the next night were Austin power trio White Denim whose second album Fits is a belter. Ranging from powerhouse Doors/Zep/Hendrix psych-rockin' (Mirrored and reverse is some kind of time machine) to the blissful pop pastures grazed by the likes of Annuals and Plants & Animals, all in about 37 minutes, right here right now its feels vaguely essential.
Almost inevitably given the band's make up, the album's light and shade, the melodicism and subtleties tend to get obliterated in live performance which is one reason this blog didn't mind missing the show. The other reason was I'd caught them the week before smashing their way through a steamy 40-minute in-store at Rough Trade East - props to my li'l camera for just about holding up bang in front of the bass bin:

And so to Latitude...