Friday night, 9pm. Everyone's had more than enough time to get their heads into the required state, and it shows… Ambling into the Glade one is attacked by a tidal wave of pumping gabba.. Yep, you guessed it, Aphex Twin has taken the helm. Described by some as the lowest form of music, it's a definition unlikely to be challenged by the makers or the listeners, but everyone is grinning broadly and flailing/ headbanging along with varying degrees of success. For those unfamiliar with the genre, it's a basic musical form, comprising simple, harsh, VERY fast drums and odd bits of bass.
Faster than techno, beyond Goan trance, it takes a bit of getting used to… But don't think you need to be "on drugs" to enjoy it - my pop quiz of nearby folks showed some of them had taken nothing stronger than a stiff drink of Drambuie! The gabbagabbagabba onslaught continued for roughly long enough, and then Richard D. Aphex dropped something rather more soft and floaty… and off he went as soon as the record was on the deck. "I'm glad he's played something nice…" said my new-found friend and next-door dancing neighbour. The long, luxurious jungle-esque track signalled the end of his set, and bless 'im, he hadn't looked up once to see what the crowd thought of it. Moving swiftly along, a treat is in store in the shape of Plaid. Their name has long been a bone of contention amongst semantic pedants - is it said "Played" (my Scottish friends all swear by that pronunciation), or do you rhyme it with "had" (seemingly the accent of choice in southern lands)? For the duration of this year's festival, however, the issue seems to have been resolved. The poetic gift of being able to say in rhyme, "We're going to see Played in the Glade!" is just too delicious for most people to refuse.
The last sunrays are seeping through from behind the podium, but it's getting just dusky enough to be able to see the projected images flickering onto the screens either side of the stage. The two-man show set up with nothing more than laptops and a couple of miscellaneous add-ons - this was never going to be the most energetic of live events - but when the first tinkling bell chimes and crisp beats wash over us, no-one cares about such trifles. Visuals flare up of passing skyscrapers and tube trains, some sort of flashing lift-shaft, blinking lights in windows… all filmed in that special, cinematic Warp fashion. The mesh of sounds pulses and falls, a strange tinkling harpsichord and some eerie twangy sounds… now a piano and a far-off drum kick, now a deep, dubby bass woof … Then the heavy break kicks back in and we're off again. It's surprisingly dance-able stuff from an act who usually soundtrack the hazy nights in; everyone's feeling the bass and grooving in unison. A splendid close to a beautiful day, and a worthy beginning to the evening's madness. Words & Pictures: Marilyn Kahan