The BBC's Electric Proms gigs have spread from the Roundhouse to the Barfly just up the road with promotional support from the BBC's sharper music channels. Radio 1 will be transmitting live from the venue on Thursday October 26 with performances from Melbourne rockers Jet and Scots indie darlings The View.
The absolutely wonderful Young Knives and nu-rave hotshots The Klaxons will play Barfly on Wednesday 25, while at the folkier end of things, troubadour Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly plays with the hotly-tipped Scott Matthews on Friday 25.
Larrikin Love and The Pigeon Detectives play Saturday 27 as part of the 6Music event.
All tickets go on sale on Tuesday and cost £5. Check the official site for more details.
Teenage Fanclub launch Oxjam in Scotland2 Oct 2006
The UK's biggest ever music festival is under way after Teenage Fanclub played the first of 1,000 country-wide events at the Glasgow Barrowlands last night.
Fanclub singer Norman Blake said of the event, "We originally got together in my granny's bedroom in Bellshill. You too could form a DIY band, play some gigs, make some noise and fight poverty at the same time. You never know what it might achieve."
Over 12,000 people including Scissor Sisters and Kasabian have got involved with the project, which aims to raise £500,000 for Oxfam during October. To find out what's happening near you, visit Oxfam.org.uk/oxjam or call 0870 850 6246.
Kasabian have formed a string quartet and Franz Ferdinand have busked on the Tube - yes, the UK's biggest-ever music festival (yep, even bigger than Glastonbury) is all set to take off and the good news is all the profits are going to charity.
Start booking time off work kids because the seventh installment of the gloriously hot Spanish festival will take place between July 19-21. No line-up's been announced yet (it is, like, months away after all) but tickets go on sale on December 15 so expect more news around then.
We've had a damn good time this summer, in fact, we reckon that this year's crop of festivals have outdone themselves. So someone should by rights give them a lollipop, or a gold star or something, and that someone is the UK Festival Awards.
Other than the hilarity of The Kooks apparently being rock and Belle and Sebastian being classified as a Pop Act (you did see their none-more-fey Reading set, right?), we're quite happy with the nominations. Aloud favourites End of the Road and Latitude have both been nominated for awards, Gogol Bordello have justly been nominated for Feel Good Act and, er, Reading's got a nod for having good toilets. Oh the irony...
To get your vote in and check out the full list of nominees, click here: everyone who enters stands a chance of winning a pair of tickets to every winning festival, VIP tickets to the Festival Awards ceremony on October 19 and a year's supply of Carling. We'll give you a hint of who to vote for by who we gave our precious vote to. This is not a cheap way of having our own awards ceremony in any way.
Best Major Festival - Carling Weekend: Reading Best Medium-To-Large Festival - Bestival Best Small Festival - Jersey Live Playmusic New Festival Award - End of the Road Party People Award For Dance Music - Glade Grass Roots Festival Award - End of the Road Family Festival Award - Ben & Jerry's Sundae Best One Day Festival - Tin Pan Alley Fan-Friendly Festival Award - Latitude Shelter Award For Social Responsibility - Ben & Jerry's Sundae Portaloo Sunset Award for Best Toilets - Guilfest Headline Act - Depeche Mode (Wireless) Rock Act - Foo Fighters Best Dance Act - Mylo Pop Act - Belle & Sebastian (they're not pop, they are Belle and Sebastian) Urban Act - Plan B Breakthrough Act - The Automatic Feel-Good Act - Beck Innovation Award - Latitude Memorable Moment - Scissor Sisters
Billy Bragg and more for Electric Proms25 Sep 2006
There are more line-up additions to the BBC's Camden-based Electric Proms series happening in late October.
BBC Radio 3's Jazz on 3 are pairing up jazz veterans with jazz newcomers on Wednesday 25 Hugh Hopper and Seb Rochford, John Surman and Dave Okumu, John Taylor and Tom Arthurs will all be playing. The same night, Jonathan Harvey leads a workshop on electronic music.
Billy Bragg and Seth Lakeman will be performing as part of 6Music's Hub Sessions on Thursday 26. Also on Thursday, Vashti Bunyan and Donovan are pairing up to recreate the folk scene of the 60s and 70s. If you're mad keen on Donovan you can catch him again as part of Radio 2's Sold on Song on Friday 27.
Nitin Sawney is curating a night on Friday 27 with Laura Izibor, Fink, Natacha Atlas, Reena Bhardwaj, Tina Grace and, er, Will Young. You couldn't make it up, really.
On Saturday, the Asian Network have organised a night of beats with Tigerstyle, Niraj Chag, Bombay Dub Orchestra and Aziz, then on Sunday, 1Xtra's Rodney P has curated a night with Catch 22 ft Deadly Hunter; Instrumental ft Rodney P & Eva Abraham and The Landscapers ft Benjamin Zephaniah.
Most tickets are free, but drawn from a lottery, so head to the official website for more details.
Electronic festival to take place at ICA20 Sep 2006
London's ICA will play electro-god for the day on October 7 when it opens its doors to the UK's keenest button-mashing hopes for the one-day festival Bleepfest 06.02.
Rather than just being general electro noise, the organisers have ensured a mix of sounds, from precise soundscaping to ambient (boo hiss!) via sound art and the crunchier side of bleepiness that should keep Aloud entertained for a decent chunk of time.
The line-up includes electro rockers Black Maria, industrial grindcore from fe_bac, Deborah Sticklands from Flying Lizards and New Order producers Deprogram among others.
Tickets cost between £3.50 and £10.50, check out the official site for more details and the full line-up.
If you're in London in four weeks time and fancy checking out something a bit different, you might want to head down to The Bedford in Balham for the second annual OneTaste festival. Born from the popular Nii and OneTaste nights which have been running there since 2004, OneTaste showcases young artists, musos and poets with everything from comedy to magic and dance in between.
This year's OneTaste runs from 2pm-11pm on October 15 and features poetry from Luke Wright Aisle 16), Mr Gee (Russell Brand's 6Music show) Roger Robinson and Polar Bear, cabaret from Dr Dimalgio's Secrets and music from Jono McCleery, Size 9 (funk band who all have size 9 feet, even their female singer), Jamie Woon, Tawiah, MOBO award-winner J'Nay and Wallis Bird.
Tickets are £12 in advance or £15 on the door and you get a free goodie bag on entry. Bonus! Check the official site for more details.
"It's like we're in an episode of Casualty!"18 Sep 2006
Doctor? No, singer.
Ryan and the Cardinals are fully entrenched in wig-out mode which means we can legitimately sneak off for a minute to see the very very good James Yorkston, whose general excellence somehow slipped under our radar until a couple of weeks ago.
He's looking a bit cagey when we get in and appears to have stopped mid-song. This soon turns out to be because someone has collapsed at the front of the audience and they're waiting for the medics to arrive which, while unfortunate, is a pitch perfect setting for his darker songs.
"I'll play a cheery song," he offers once the collapsee has shown signs of life. "Oh sorry, you don't know me, that's obviously not true." There's a lot of bonding happening from giggling at the sheer absurdity of effectively playing at a triage centre and when the ambulance people arrive there's a big round of applause as the poor chap is carried off.
Right, we're going to sign off now and dance some kind of weird dance between James and Ryan but check the EotR gallery blog tomorrow and Tuesday for photos of the bands and general goings on. We've really enjoyed ourselves this weekend, in fact it might just edge Latitude as our favourite of the whole season, so let's hope it happens again next year so you can check it out as well. Night!
We've seen loads of good stuff over the last few hours. We had a sit down in the Pavilion and watched alcoholics chat to rabbits that may or may not exist in Harvey, and sang along to the na na na na's in Hey Jude which Howe Gelb tagged onto his finishing cover of Ring of Fire.
We've been advised that the blood group diet is the only one worth doing by a former champion runner who is now a nutritionist and holistic therapist (never, ever eat a whole avocado apparently) and we've listened to bit of Jolie Holland's set while some Youths caused havoc with beer around us.
Now we're letting Richard Hawley's epic and wistful pop wash over us in between his caustic jokes which are, sadly, way too blue to repeat here. Suffice to say we're storing up the phrase 'soft as a bag of tits' for use in a future conversation.
We've just seen Emmy The Great who turned out to be one person, but were joined by Jeremy Warmsley and a boy called Charlie who owns a very impressive furry bass guitar and thus became Emmy and the Whale. This is not, apparently, their actual name as they haven't thought one up yet but did nicely enough for their gig in the Bimble Inn where the ubiquitous small children joined in on maraccas and everyone clapped along, especially to one song with a lovely Kyrie Eleison refrain. Emmy herself shakes her head around like a Shetland pony while singing which is good as she has the fringe for it, if slightly unnerving as you do wonder if she'll lose her balance and fall over.
They run out of songs five minutes before the end so hail one of their friends onstage to do a poem about crap clubbing. We have now learned how to dance, although said dance might get us committed should we ever actually do it in public.
Seriously, what did we do before we were shown Tilly and the Wall? With dancers and happy hand waving sounds so meltingly summery you could put it in cones and sell it to small children, a Tilly show is a great show.
We've done back to back goodness as we've just come from Holly Golightly, whose incredibly cheery greeting to the crowd belie the sleepily sexy blues that she and her band of equally sexy boys unleash in volumes.
I'm From Barcelona are everywhere we go, although disappointingly the bearded Smurf man has changed into something less revealing. Boo to you, bearded Smurf man! Most of Paris Motel are sitting cross-legged by the Somerset Cider Bus eating burritos like a better-dressed Church outing, and we're SURE we've just clocked tonight's headliner Ryan Adams. Although we kind of hope not, because he just went into one of the Portaloos and that's just not an image we want in our head of someone we've fancied for five years...
New fans for life. Or at least until the tenth wash.
Well, we stand corrected on the poetry because we dived in to warm up and it was actually very funny and sweet. Bloke called Guy Herbert, track him down at allmyownworn.blogspot.com.
On the way to see Paris Motel who we very much enjoyed at Latitude we bump into some people who took advantage of I'm From Barcelona's enterprising t-shirt sales after their set and are very effusive about them which we agree with entirely.
The nine-piece Paris Motel might not be as numerous as the Swedes, but they've certainly got more instruments and, most importantly, an Edward Larrikin type who bangs a drum with much might and dancing, and occasionally wears it as a hat. They also do a lovely cover of 'Maps' by Yeah Yeah Yeahs which entirely benefits from the small orchestra effect. Take note Karen O...
Just as Jeremy Warmsley and his band come on to the Big Top stage a small child starts crying. "Aw that always happens," he quips, yanking his trousers up again. ("Has he forgotten his braces?" Smash Hits texts us, in mothering tones.) Who knows, but the child's wails are soon lost in swarming keys and buzzing sonicery. Although that's probably not a word. They're a bit late because they drove off in Lily Allen's van by mistake, as you do.
Over on the Garden Stage, guitarist-singer Chris T-T has been making up for so-so tunes with a funny schtick in between songs and lyrics about giraffes. Aah... Time for more ice cream we reckon if we can just battle our way through the earnest poetry wafting from the open mic sessions in the Bimble Inn tent to our right and the drumming workshop giving us hippie nightmares to our left. Oh.
One of the year's most improbable tips (let's draw a veil over the memory of Polyphonic Spree shall we?) is I'm From Barcelona, a 20-odd strong collective from Sweden with a nice line in songs about chicken pox.
From their first song about a 'you and me house' tree house in which their Angus Young-a-like singer sprinkles streamers over the crowd (with a handful just for us down in the photo pit. Touched by celebrity, that's us!) there's all sorts of excitements going on. A bubble machine whirrs around the stage and girls clutch twigs left over from British Sea Power's set last night. It's waaaay less scary than the Spree and their 'rhymes with slaughter' leader but none the less full of joy and fun. We particularly enjoy the bearded man dressed up as a Smurf and bouncing like he's on a trampoline.
Angus and one of the tree girls get down in the pit and get people in the crowd blowing into kazoos and singing along like they were born into a musical collective. It's brilliant and ludicrously happy. We are forming a musical collective THE MINUTE we get back to London. Who's with us?
Finally! The good music thread has been derailed by the boring singer-songwriter Christian Kjellvander and his bored-looking co-singer who remind us that minor chords are no substitute for feeling, however frequently they're played. We'd leave earlier but it's quite warm and comfy.
Our next rubbish band are very, very bad indeed but disappoint us by turning out to have a small child on the drums and some kind of comedian singing which isn't really rubbish at all. The next plan is to sing L Ron Hubbard's book Fear. The founding father of Scientology clearly doesn't like this plan as there's a power cut and once it's back on a band turn up to claim the guitar and drums because they're onstage in half an hour. Oh well...
This is now, obviously. Last night was much darker.
Last night when wandering through the Secret Gardens listening to Josh Ritter floating over the trees, we followed strings of lights to a grotto with a piano set up in it. People would randomly drop in and out and play, and we must have been overflowing with festival spirit because we sang with some of them. What a nice idea anyway, and very good for people who are too malco to play in the drumming circle (namely, us.)
We've been steering well clear of the Choc Star bus and its plethora of gorgeous things, but unfortunately our greed vastly outweighs our self-restraint. If it were possible to frame an ice cream combination, raspberry and white chocolate would be on our wall right now: utterly perfect and totally yum.
It's given us the necessary energy to climb through the packed Bimble Inn tent to grab a bit of floor before Suburban Kids With Biblical Names start their set. Even if they're terrible, we will love them because of their name alone. Ooh, they're on now. Jingly jangly tunes, whistling, beats from an iPod they've plugged into a mic and a nice line in straight faced crazy dancing, it's all good fun to watch. The crowd are going mental.
There's all manner of things for grown-ups as well as children at the circus tent, where a Punch and Judy show is about to scare the wits out of everyone over 10. Unicycling is just one of these things. However, as we have enough problems staying on things with two wheels, trying it would probably not end well. We go and check out My Latest Novel and The Boy Least Likely To instead, both of whom provide much more stability and joy than unicycling.
There's a huge Scandinavian thread running through End of the Road, and as well as a themed quiz walk taking place round the gardens there's Kubb, a game which seems to involve throwing sticks at blocks and knocking them over. Sort of like croquet when you get cross then. It's proving very addictive: one of the games started over an hour ago. Nice.
Blimey. It seems every time we try going anywhere we get distracted by another brilliant band we've never heard of. In this case, we were trying to get to the Secret Garden but got sidetracked by Hush The Many (Heed The Few) who are turning in the sort of set that makes you feel glad you're sitting down because otherwise you'd fall over. God it's wonderful.
In fact, what's so lovely is that today at least seems to have been programmed almost entirely with loveliness in mind. Hell, the singer's just told everyone to stay in touch and make something great happen and STILL we didn't vomit.
Twee in its purest form is something so magical that even our most cynical edges have been worn down by sheer brilliance. We'd better see something rubbish soon or this is going to be the most gushing blog in history. Mind, surely that's just the sign of a really, really good time?
We were a bit worried that everyone might have wound down a bit post-Bestival and dress depressingly normally so a big hurray for Toby from Swiss FX and um, Kate we think, we were slightly overcome by the politeness of the atmosphere and got slightly caught up in curtseying to actually remember the important part. There's a big piano in the Secret Garden just behind the peacocks apparently and Toby's got his eye on it for some jazz action later on. If we get drunk enough we might join in with a sing.
Are vegetarian breakfasts only delicious to vegetarians? Cos ours was rubbish. Back to meat tomorrow we reckon.
Over on the Garden Stage Ladyfuzz's first track gets cut short by the guitar refusing to make any noise at all. They are slightly bemused by the presence of small infants stopping them from telling rude jokes to pass the time until the techs fix it. Common problem that this summer, with lots of people getting around it by realising that small infants probably don't know what a rude word is. Anyway, their sonic wail is back before long, all the kids dancing around for good measure.
Well. According to our new favourite 'door supervisor' as bouncers are apparently now called, Jordan is fine, Peter Andre is fine, some other, more famous, people are fine, but Liam Gallagher is a tit. Colour us pink and call us suprised! Said DS then tells us the most delightfully silly story of Liam getting his just desserts before Ed Harcourt comes on stage, sadly sans the expected red shirt. A nice waistcoat makes up for that though, so that's fine.
For some reason we've always thought of M Craft as being dance music. Clearly, that's Tomkraft and we're idiots, because this lot are pure audio island drifting pleasure and not electro. They've got a recorder and a glockenspiel which makes us ridiculously happy.
Some bizarre niggles in our photo pass (in that, er, it apparently serves no useful function other than as an oversized neck adornment) are overcome by bumping into co-organiser Sofia who sorts it all out and looks radiantly happy at how everything's going, as she darn well should. Nepotism: it's the future kids.
Certainly the weirdest thing that's happened to us in a while is a small child covered in glitter coming up behind us and tickling us with a purple feather. Sadly we're not that special as the child then decides it's his mission to go round touching everyone in the Bumble Inn tent with the feather. Bless.
This provides a nice upbeat relief during Gethin and the Scenery's set, who, while being absolutely wonderful, aren't exactly the most Prozac of bands. Still, you can't go wrong with a nice bit of violin in amidst your guitar and seated bassist so we leave well pleased.
Even better is the bunch of random drummers taking advantage of the free drums just outside the food tent who are terrifyingly rhythmic. We aren't, so decline their enthusiastic invitation to join in.
The peacocks are calling over the trees. It's very, very Tattva.
So, not only have the organisers managed the rather impressive feat of getting Ryan Adams to headline, but they've got the Somerset Cider Bus as well. It's only ever been at Glastonbury up til now so that's a very promising sign.
There's a table in here decorated entirely in Calvin and Hobbes cut-outs. It's very pretty but the continuity's a bugger. David Bowie's on the record player (yes! Record player!) and someone's just got the John Peel book down off the shelf for a sunset read. With the Rough Trade record shop stall next door this is very apt. Ooh, an argument's started about whether or not you'd go out with James Blunt. It's quite divided, suprisingly...
Well, we've been to a lot of festivals this year but this has to be the first one where you have peacocks running in amongst the crowd when you're watching a band, in this case the Bright Space, being all acoustic-Longview out on the Garden stage.
This place is crazy: there's little black and white cottages peppering the festival site, a little stage with a huge painted backdrop straight out of the 19th century, and those damn peacocks who keep wandering up and peering at us in a very disconcerting fashion. Nick off son or we'll turn you into a scarf.
Well, we've only been wandering around ten minutes and already we've been chucked out of the backstage area for not having the right pass (that's never stopped us before, don't you worry) and stopped by Crosbi in the Big Top. Busy busy busy.
Brilliantly for the last festival of the season, lots of people seem to be coming to End of the Road by themselves judging by the queue for the shuttle bus at Salisbury train station. This makes the Aloud camp happy, mostly because the Aloud camp consists of one and really can't be bothered to be a leper all weekend. The line-up's too good to waste on being judged by people in silly jackets.
A couple confuse us mightily by seeming to have got into a cab, sitting in it for a bit then taking all their stuff out again. Was the cab not good enough? Or have they actually just got the cab here? Oh wait, that's considerably more likely. In which case, why didn't they stay in it and roar off to Larmer Tree Gardens leaving us lone festivallers to scribble anxiously in our diaries (redhead male, to our right), contemplate lamp posts (man in not-quite-trousers shorts) and chain smoke in stoic folk music listening silence (everyone else).
We've never been to Dorset before. Oh hang on, we're still in Salisbury so technically that's Wiltshire. God our geography's crap. This is entirely our fault for only doing one humanity at GCSE.
Richard Branson has announced that the V Festival is going to be held in more countries around the world after the success of this year's UK, Canada and USA installments. No, we didn't know about the last two either, but apparently they do exist.
"The great thing about doing it in more than one country is we can coordinate it [and] get the bands moving between countries," Branson told Reuters. "Tours will play a much greater part in the coming years. From a band's point of view, they make more out of playing live than out of music sales."
Proposed new sites include Italy, Spain and South America. The Canadian version known as the Virgin Festival (snigger) was held in Toronto Islands Park this month, while a one-day US spin-off is taking place at the Pimlico Race Course in Baltimore on September 23. The Who and Red Hot Chilli Peppers will headline.
The Manchester version will probably be a bit more fun.
A huge festival known as the Warehouse Project is set to start in Manchester in October...and run for three months. Featuring everything from dance to indie, with both live and DJ sets from top bands including Kasabian, New Young Pony Club, Public Enemy, 2 Many DJs, De La Soul and Mystery Jets, the festival will be held at the Old Brewery in Strangeways, and run from October 6 to New Years Eve.
Depending on the size of the night, the festival will use the whole space or section off parts of it to run a variety of themed club nights to take in a variety of musical styles. More shows and acts are set to be added to the list, so keep an eye on the official site and read on for the current line-up.
More acts have been announced for the Electric Proms in October: the BBC's Camden-based set of gigs have added uber-Godfather James Brown to their week of eclectic sounds. He'll play the Roundhouse on October 27, joined by special guests who are so special nobody knows who they are yet.
In other news, Jamie T and "calypso king" Young Tiger have joined Damon Albarn's new project The Good The Bad and The Queen in playing on October 26 which we're quite excited about. Young Tiger will be playing his first gig in decades (just how young is he?) and Jamie T is brilliant so along with Albarn's self-proclaimed follow-up to 'Parklife' this should be a rather snazzy gig.
So, the Isle of Wight has little to no mobile reception - who'da thunk it? Naturally, this does not aid in the publishing of a phone blog, and is why the Bestival blog has been missing great chunks of actual story. It is also why, when our marooned correspondent manages to get himself off the island and back to Aloud HQ, we'll sit him down with a barrel of coffee and not let him sleep until he tells us everything in the world ever. Some bands played, apparently. Brilliant!
In the meantime, tell us about your Bestival experiences and provide the written lift music to help pass the time until Wightlink starts up again.
Bat For Lashes, Sunday evening, Rock 'N' Roll tent
I'm pretty speechless right now. Bat For Lashes is absolutely astonishing, taking the freewheeling high drama of Kate Bush and twisting it into hypnotic, Cat Power-esque shapes with wholly bewitching vocal flourishes and a neat line in mysterious melodic zing. We're absolutely smitten.
Here, as promised earlier, is that picture of Metronomy's occasional singer and full-time crackpot Joseph Mount. What you sadly can't see in full is Joe's two identically-dressed bandmates on either side of him, executing perfectly choreographed jerks, swooshes and zings with their guitars and arms.
And y'see that white circle on his chest? That's one of those battery-operated lights people often use to illuminate the cupboard under the stairs. Metronomy, though, build the push-on, push-off lights into their stage show by using them as a kind of visual percussion. In fact, Joe throws a few into the crowd before Metronomy's final tune, imploring people to "find four double-A batteries in the next three-and-a-half minutes" so they can join in - and remarkably, somebody does just that.
And here they are, Hot Chip in full robot funk flow. I know they look meek, but crikey they know how to elicit a frenzy of rug-cutting. And in a theme emerging throughout Bestival, they're all lined up like cans on a fairground stall, waiting to be pole-axed by a flying boot - although everyone's far too nice to do that of course...
Sunday afternoon, and we're just about to see Hot Chip turn in a furiously danceable set on the main stage. But wait - what's this we find, hiding in the corner of the Rainbow Bar? It would appear to be the back end of a caravan, fashioned into, yes, a giant jukebox. And inside sit three oddly-clad gentlemen who should definitely know better, churning out oddly chintzy but really rather charming renditions of whatever tune the pound-paying punters want (from a list of about 30 -they're not completely insane).
So rather than wait for Hot Chip to blow our socks off with a blistering, hugely funked-up rendition of 'Over And Over' - which, naturally, is precisely what they do, providing Bestival's unofficial theme tune in the process - we stick our money in and let these chaps have a go instead.
Their cover version sounds like, well, Isle of Wight residents The Bess in fact. Which, considering where we are, might not be surprising. Must be something in the water.
Ok, it's not the most wildly exciting picture, but lovely northern lads Hot Club de Paris warrant a mention for brightening up everyone's day with spiky guitars and incongruous but assuredly welcome three-part harmonies. They're like The Futureheads only actually, y'know, fun an' that.
While Lily Allen was performing on the main stage yesterday afternoon - in full fancy dress, it's worth mentioning - we chanced upon this chap - Mark Ronson, Ms Allen's producer and eminently danceworthy deejay. He's the one in the hat, by the way.
Major communication problems precluded any posting yesterday afternoon, so sorry about that folks. Suffice to say, immense fun was had, as will become clear as we run through a swift retrospective. Oh yes, and people climbed trees. No idea why - "Because they're there", I'd wager.
This, resplendent in full Ron Burgundy attire, is Sam aka Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly - the only band in the world with two commas in its name, punctuation fans - and he's just rather foolishly given us some poppers, hence our ruddy complexion.
It's marvellous to see bands as well as punters getting into the Bestival spirit and donning daft fancy dress outfits - Lily Allen performed her entire set in a fluorescent wig, oversized bunny ears and a voluminous prom dress. Mercifully, there is no photographic evidence of us in our Thunderbirds gear, but suffice to say we "rocked" the "joint".
Though it's hard to discern, this is the back of a teenage boy called Simon, who decided to show his dedication to the festival by having its logo tattooed onto his body.
Others have had similar designs shaved into their hair, and still more have invested in fetching t-shirts and, um, tea towels. Never let it be said that this bunch aren't resourceful.
So, as the parade approaches, it's worth taking a quick look at who's come as what. I've spotted a fair few Steve Irwins, in affectionate tribute to the recently deceased Aussie conservationist - one, indeed, arrived with an entirely unprintable and definitively tasteless stingray accoutrement. There's an oddly orange Mr T, complelented nicely by a coterie of definitely orange enough Ooompa-Loompas (Charlie in tow, natch).
The Englishman's capacity to fall into cross-dressing knows no bounds, and all manner of shameful bulges and unnecessary hair are peeping through skinny and skimpy skirts, shift dresses, and bouffy prom attire. Despite the warning that clowns are banned - something to do with lots of people being terrified of them, apparently - there are a few in evidence, and we've spotted Ghostbusters, half the cast of The Wizard Of Oz and, in one deliciously surreal tableau, Obi-Wan Kenobi deep in conversation with Santa Claus as the 118 118 chaps and Satan look on.
The resourcefulness on display is really quite something: Bill & Ben the Flowerpot Men have clearly ram-raided their local Robert Dyas for appropriate props, and there's definitely been a lot of last-minute nocturnal stitching going on. Who needs bands when there's this much fun to be had?
John Martyn, playing on the main stage, must be well ticked off. Most of the people in his vicinity aren't here to see him at all - they're here to hold 8ft tall sticks with giant letters on them. Such is the simple joy of Bestival, something of which yer average corporate Wireless/V-type entertainment vacuums would do well to take heed.
Earlier on the Rock 'N' Roll stage, Metronomy delighted the frankly insufficient crowd with a bravura display of formation dancing and invigorating electro pop. Pic of them later, complete with battery-operated lights attached to their chests. Honestly, they're irresistible: mainly instrumental but nonetheless charismatic for that, and charmingly demented to boot.
A brief but entirely deserving mention for Kitty, Daisy & Lewis, three teenage siblings who opened up the main stage with a rattlingly danceable set of country tunes - fair play to mum and dad on double bass and guitar too.
Saturday afternoon, and we've just been informed that there's a Real Actual Pub, just up the hill behind the main stage where Guillemots are currently pulling out every old Flaming Lips trick in the book, right down to the animal costumes.
Since the queues at the bar are starting to get a bit ridiculous - once again, it's blimmin' boiling, and the Bestivallers are accordingly gasping - this warrants further investigation. And sure enough, not only do we find aforementioned boozer, but also the dean of Guilty Pleasures himself, Sean Rowley (pictured with beard). Of course, he insisted on having his picture taken with us, as Aloud.com's reputation has by now spread far and wide. (and Charlie's fondness for having photos taken with slebs is rapidly becoming an addiction - Ed)
This poor soul obviously peaked a smidge too early. Apparently he had to be dragged, comatose, from the middle of the road to save him from a lorry-based sticky end. Get well soon, chap - oh, and you might want to look in a mirror at some stage...
