The laid-back, feelgood atmosphere on the first day of Forbidden Fruit is reminiscent of Electric Picnic, although the vibe is perhaps a little less enthusiastic among those misfortunate enough to find themselves caught up in the hour-long queue for the bar. There’s no doubt about it, this is a serious black mark for any festival, but in just about every other respect, Forbidden Fruit offers so much to enjoy.
The Main Stage is set at the bottom of a natural amphitheatre and Wild Beasts are the first act of note on it. There’s a select crowd giving the band their undivided attention, with many revellers happy enough to drink, talk and generally soak up the atmosphere. Still, Hayden Thorpe and the boys give a good account of themselves, with their baroque art-pop providing an ideal early evening soundtrack. It helps of course that the sun is shining, something which the band can barely comprehend. “On the couple of occasions we played Oxegen, it bucketed down,” notes the band’s singer and bassist Tom Fleming. Then he produces something from his pocket. “Look at this,” he exclaims. “We’re in Ireland and I have sunglasses!”
Highlights of the Beasts’ set include the exquisite ‘Hooting And Howling’, and an epic closing number which, after a tension-building organ break, builds to a powerful crescendo. Unfortunately, though, Mr. Fleming has spoke too soon – this being Ireland, the weather is ever changeable, and by the time Yo La Tengo take to the stage, grey clouds have gathered and a noticeable chill set in. Nonetheless, the crowd has swelled for the Hoboken trio’s set and there is plenty to enjoy in their energetic performance.
Early on, they throw in an infectious, funky number that gets everyone going, while the beautiful ‘Autumn Sweater’ and the wailing ‘Sugarcube’ are also enthusiastically received. The finale is quite something, with James McNair and Georgia Hubley striking up a repetitive Krautrock groove, over which Ira Kaplan plays layers of shrieking and howling guitar, in a manner reminiscent of Thurston Moore. Terrific stuff and proof that Yo La Tengo are still in the vanguard of US art rock.
On the Undergrowth Stage, meanwhile, Erol Alkan is tearing it up with a blitzkrieg of house, techno and electro. Like all the best deck wizards, Alkan masterfully builds his set, taking the tempo up and down. Indeed, on a few occasions, he takes the sound down to a near whisper, before unleashing a cascade of pulsating beats, which are met with a predictably euphoric response. Just in front of me, a bloke in a Louis Walsh face mask is giving it loads, but let’s hope this is one dancefloor craze that doesn’t catch on.
Back outside, it’s time for headliners The Flaming Lips. To be honest, the Oklahoma crew have always been far too earnest for my tastes, but credit where it’s due, their entrance is spectacular. The band members emerge from the screen – showing all manner of technicolour, psychedelic visuals – and walk down a ramp onto the stage, whilst frontman Wayne Coyne gets into an inflatable bubble and walks out on top of the audience. For good measure, balloons are then released over the crowd, and the regulation dancers – clad in Wizard Of Oz costumes – take their place on the wings of the stage. Coyne is handed something by a crew member and for a second I half-expect him to board a broomstick and fly out over us, but instead he uses the small cannon to blast out streamers and confetti.
As I’ve mentioned, the Lips’ brand of happy, smiley psych-rock still doesn’t do much for happy, smiley me. Matters aren’t helped by Coyne continually telling the crowd “to have a good time, motherfuckers.” It’s never a good sign when the singer has to tell the crowd to enjoy themselves.
Still, there was plenty to enjoy on Day One, and we’re more than glad we took a bite out of Forbidden Fruit.