I’m sprinting through a field in Stradbally and the pangs of regret are already arriving. No matter how well-crafted and agonised-over your list of must-see acts is, there’s always at least one heartbreaking clash on the horizon at any festival worth its salt. So here’s your HP correspondent, tearing himself away from Savages and tearing towards the Electric Arena to see the always top-notch Walkmen. As the New Yorkers launch into the nimble, effervescent ‘Woe Is Me’, I can settle into the set and enjoy, but with towering frontman Hamilton Leithauser leading most of the mid-tempo songs with an acoustic guitar and offering shout-outs to the young kids in the crowd, it’s quite the tempo and mood change from the new Coolest Band In The World Right Now™.
The two-thirds of Savages I’ve left behind have been, quite frankly, astonishing. Debut LP Silence Yourself is a brilliant album-as-manifesto piece of art, and live their post-punk dispatches take on new power. Clad as ever in black, the four ladies have a real ‘last gang in town’ feel about them and in frontwoman Jehnny Beth an intensely charismatic focal point. For a relatively new band, they’re as close to the finished article as you could hope for. Leader-of-sorts Gemma Thompson is ice-cold as she casually tosses Sonic Youth-style squalls and showers from her guitar, Fay Milton is formidable on the skins and, eyes closed in deep concentration, Ayse Hassan somehow steals the brilliant show, coming up with line after hypnotic line of deft, jungle-rumble bass.
Over at the main stage, Robert Plant proves to be a bit of a tease. Playing with his Sensational Shapeshifters – a flexible group that can switch between eastern grooves and heavy rock at the drop of a hat – he does offer up some Led Zeppelin classics but also leaves the crowd wanting more. “I’ve got a feeling,” the golden god smirks at one point, “Way down inside…Nah. Too easy.” So he doesn’t particularly want to give us every inch of his love, but he’s still pleasingly affectionate. And that iconic voice? Still in fine fettle.
The utterly unique Björk follows, bringing along a choir/performance art posse. Needless to say, her choice of headwear is as odd as ever, but when the the elegant eruption of emotion that is ‘Jóga’ arrives, she takes your breath away.
Similar could be said about John Grant, who has garnered plenty of acclaim for new album Pale Green Ghosts this year. He captivates on the keys, songs of heartbreak such as ‘Where Dreams Go To Die’ flooring a rapt Rankin Woods Stage audience. Sending it over the edge is the arrival of one Sinead O’Connor for a duet or three. Looking terrific, sounding, as ever, like an angel, she gets one of the most remarkable receptions of the weekend. A magical moment.