Henham Park, Southwold
Now in its sixth year, Latitude revels in its status as the artsy, craftsy, child-friendly, family festival, with its accent on non-musical attractions and promotion of unusual food and an alternative lifestyle. There were play areas, multicoloured sheep gambolling in a pen and a modern take on Robin Hood in the open air theatre being watched by kids in deelyboppers. There was even a knitting tent inviting us to "join in a communal knitting project". It was left to the teenagers to inject some rock'n'roll into proceedings: at least one horrified adult was heard running from the new Inbetweeners area ("for teens that want to experience their own fun"), declaring that it was "like an episode of Skins in there".
Latitude's reputation as the talent-spotting festival is a little over-played, but, on Friday, Still Corners impressed as they squared the circle between space rock and girl pop. Caribou drew a good crowd for their idiosyncratic chill-rave. Bright Eyes' decision to ditch rootsy Americana for all-out rock led to the most unreconstructed shout-out of the weekend ("This one's for anyone out there who wants to have sex with the band tonight"), although as ever with Conor Oberst it was hard to tell whether he was joking. The presence of Paloma Faith highlighted the festival's lack of pulling power: where Glastonbury got Beyonce's blinged-up superfunk, Latitude got Faith's ersatz supper-club soul. The positioning of the last two bands on the Word stage was curious, with the Vaccines, on the rise, second to Bombay Bicycle Club, who have yet to achieve their long-awaited breakthrough.
On Saturday, the rain was the star. Some benefited from the downpour, such as the cagoule-sellers, and there was a rush to get inside the cabaret tent to watch a man in a Chinese smock stabbing himself with chopsticks.
Adam Ant was a revelation, albeit mystifyingly low on the bill. He looked in great shape and sounded even better, treating the sheltering hordes to one thrilling hit after another. Ed Sheeran, fresh from a No 3 single, was also on surprisingly early, but the likable acoustic troubadour proved immensely popular. A soggy field in mid-afternoon Suffolk were not the right conditions for Rumer's languid jazz pop, but her band were superb, the clarity of her vocals sublime.
The sun came out just in time for Echo and the Bunnymen's 80s goth revisited, reminding us of the kind of bands they used to churn out up north before Oasis: dark, literate, heavy on the pomp and circumstance. My Morning Jacket treated a half-full field to their southern boogie with experimental inflections. Finally, Saturday's headliners Foals couldn't have been more anticlimactic, prefacing their vaguely propulsive indie-rave set by announcing that they are going on hiatus. A good weekend, somewhat let down by the music.
Leslie Bibb Chelsea Handler Salma Hayek Jennifer Scholle Tatiana Zavialova
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