Bestival 2009 - Saturday
Each member of Casiokids is as charismatic on stage as the next, ending the night - or indeed kicking off Sunday morning - on a high.
Bestival is known for its en masse fancy dress, with this year's theme being 'Space Oddity'. In preparation for the annual fancy dress parade, the faithful begin to exit their tents, with cardboard extensions and painted faces, with all the childish exuberance of Blue Peter. Later the make-up is smudged and robotic appendages are discarded along with the cans and cups.
A series of technical problems plague Chew Lips, who kick off proceedings in the big top early afternoon. Singles 'Solo' and 'Salt Air' are saved for the business end of their performance as they play to a few hundred early risers. Lead singer Tigs is a confident performer, commanding the stage while James and Will flank her with their gadgetry and bass guitar behind. Her voice is effortless, rocketing around the airy tent; potent, crisp and warming. She is completely at ease on stage - during the technical problems she remarks "ah, fuck it".
Speech Debelle takes The Mummers' slot as well as retaining her original slot on Sunday. Tragically, it later transpires that The Mummers were forced to cancel after band member, Mark Horwood, hanged himself earlier that week. The change isn't publicized and so, fresh from her Mercury Prize win, Debelle plays to a few hundred. 'Bad Boy' sees her cutting all sound for eight beats, and cutting back in with the chorus, then a sixteen beat break, remarking "I love this shit".
The main stage line-up is commercial and crowd pleasing, the arena now awash of space references, from more obvious Star Trek uniforms to two bodies dressed in giant foam discs, re-creating flying saucer sweets. Golden Silvers enter forty-five minutes later than scheduled, apparently due to Kraftwerk's OCD sound-check. The crowd's irritability quickly dissipates when the three appear. 'Arrows Of Eros', with its dark lyrics and the surf boy rhythm, is soaked up along with the sun by a delighted crowd.
Little Boots, dolled up as Lady Penelope, enters the stage in a tiny car, her band of Thunderbirds marching along behind her. 'Remedy' has its lyrics roared back at the pint-sized pop star. Finale 'Stuck On Repeat', with its dirty bass and repetitive lyrics, sees Victoria Hesketh as master puppeteer; all are hooked and hypnotised, jerking back and forth with their eyes shut.
Mika, embracing the fancy dress theme, enters the stage in a puffy white space suit, managing to look more like Michelin man than space man. He attempts to compete the previously mentioned acts with his signature screeching and uninventive melodies. The lyrically poor 'Blame It On The Girls', and 'Billy Brown''s anticlimax of misfiring confetti blasts, mar the afternoon.
A brief powercut interrupts Lily Allen, her voice failing to pump out of the speakers for thirty seconds, while the crowd look on bemused. Somewhat fittingly, above the main stage the large sign reads, 'Increase The Peace' as she bashes the BNP with 'Fuck You'. Lily leaves, not forgetting her drink and replacing the limp fag in her mouth.
A brief lull in the line up leads us to the comedy tent and underappreciated comedians Craig Campbell and Andrew Maxwell. They're entertaining a small number that sit huddled in the small tent behind the big top. Maxwell, shouting in attempts to drown out the thudding rave beats from Burka Som Sistema, calling all in that tent "cunts", and banishing hecklers to join them.
It's a long wait until 2am and Casiokids in the Red Bull tent, and the small venue is dripping with condensation for their frenzied and eccentric performance. The instrumental 'Fot I Hose' receives recognition, its hungry and throbbing bass a good edition to any DJ set. There is no obvious focal point, each take turns to whack cow bells, and mess around on keyboards; they even swap drummers part way through one song. Their cute Nordic vocals are heartfelt and feverish; they sing lyrics which seem to say "I love Bestival" in 'Finn Bikkjen'. Each member is as charismatic on stage as the next, ending the night - or indeed kicking off Sunday morning - on a high.
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