Electric Picnic: Day 1 Review

Kodaline and Little Green Cars are the Irish guitar bands everyone’s talking about at the moment, but give it 12 months and you can be damn sure Neon Wolf will be butting into the conversation.

Kicking things off in the Hot Press Chatroom – do come visit! – the Kilkenny outfit have a knack for writing hummable songs that pack a genuine emotional punch as opposed to faux Chris Martin-style sentimentality.

There’s also a sense of impending hugeness about Dublin brother act Hudson Taylor. Operating at the poppier end of the Of Mumfords And Whales spectrum, the likes of ‘A Drop In The Ocean’, ‘Déjà vu’, ‘Cinematic Lifestyle’ and new single ‘Care’ make no apologies of their desire to reverberate around stadiums.

They’re already superstars in the eyes of their predominantly female throng of fans who sing back every word to every song.

If I were to rock up to work in a leopard-skin print shirt I’d have the piss unmercifully ripped out of me, but all Miles Kane gets is admiring glances.

Whippet thin and of the feathercut mod persuasion, he’s accompanied by three similarly sharp-dressed mates who’ve all read The Paul Weller Guide To Being Effortlessly Cool from cover to cover.

It’s not all Jam retreads though with Kane & Co. also dealing in whig-out psychedelia (‘Give Up’), modern era Britpop (‘Don’t Forget Who You Are’) and dirty Dr. Feelgood-esque rhythm ‘n’ booze (‘Come Closer’).

Sonically it’s exhilarating but impeccable as his influences are the 27-year-old Liverpool fan who’s been “linked” recently to Laura Whitmore doesn’t have the killer songwriting chops of Weller, Gallagher (Noel) and, most pointedly, his Last Shadow Puppets partner Alex Turner with whom he’s obviously been swapping sartorial tips.

Talking of which, this year’s festival fashion essential is the animal onesie. Over a half-hour period I spot a herd of human reindeer, a pride of lions, three zebras, a punk panther, a giraffe and even a leopard to match Miles Kane’s shirt. It’s a slight improvement on county GAA jerseys, but still not a look I’d recommend.

A quick run back to the Hot Press Chatroom to catch The Aftermath yields this interesting nugget; Mick Cronin and the chaps have recorded a Christmas single with JJ72 and Concerto For Constatine man Mark Greaney. The Facebook campaign to have it rather than the latest X Factor abomination as the festive number one starts here.

Incidentally, all of the weekend’s Mindfield activities are being dedicated to Seamus Heaney, a smiling portrait of who sits majestically under an oak tree. I don’t mind admitting it brings a tear to the eye.

I’m not a Wu-Tang authority, but the Donegal lad next to me almost explodes with excitement when eight of them amble on stage.

“That’s everybody except for Ol’ Dirty Bastard… who’s dead,” he helpfully tells me.

With the whole Clan there rather than the four or five who normally travel, we’re treated to a masterclass in old skool block party rap. Unlike De La Soul’s cabaret turn a few weeks ago at Indiependence, there’s still something dangerous and gramatically incorrect about the likes of ‘Bring Da Ruckus’, ‘Da Mystery Of Chessboxin’’, ‘Clan In Da Front’ and ‘C.R.E.A.M.’

Having simmered away nicely for 30 minutes, the gaff goes properly mental when DJ and hype man Mathematics starts scratching up a heavy metal riff storm. Not content with using his hands he theatrically whips off his sneakers between beats and literally socks it to us. The incendiary ‘Liquid Swords’ that follows is this writer’s undisputed highlight of the day.

You can’t accuse the Picnic of being musically one-dimensional with Staten Island’s finest followed on the Main Stage by My Bloody Valentine who prove to be the most divisive of acts.

Lovers of their full-frontal noise assault are duly sent into raptures while those who’ve signed up to the idea of Friday being Picnic Party Night make an immediate beeline for Body & Soul. Personally, I think they’re the dog’s proverbials with the aural equivalent of a squadron of jetfighters taking off, ‘Wonder 2’, and the shoegaze-tastic ‘Soon’ a double-whammy to cherish. We get a rare as hen's teeth smile and wave at the end from Kevin Shields signalling, in his eyes, a job well done.

The special surprise to make up for Giorgio Moroder’s Electric Arena non-appearance – wishing you a speedy recovery, signor – isn’t the rumoured James Murphy but a gobsmacking fireworks display, which gets a thunderous round of applause at the end. Good work whoever thought of it!

It’s hard to know what critical criteria to apply to a Fatboy Slim set. There are no live musicians, guest singers, dancers or anything else to either add or subtract from the well-worn favourites of which it comprises. The mixing may be live but doesn’t sound it, and Norm is not one to engage in between-song banter.

Instead his genius lies in being able to instantly transform a windy field into the funnest warehouse party you've ever attended. His deft populist touch means that in addition to his own tunes we get a Latino You Tube-r supplying the vocal for a bootleg remix of Daft Punk's 'Get Lucky', a 'Satisfaction'/'Rockafeller Skank' mash up it's impossible not to shake a leg to and a pogo-inducing burst of 'Jump Around'. The lights, lasers and other eye candy are stunning, but like eating a Chinese 30 minutes afterwards you're left feeling strangely empty.

Earlier in the day, I caught impressive glimpses of The Eskies who get better and better at doing their blues rawk thing; R.S.A.G. who's arguably the most inventive drummer this country's ever produced and The Dionnes, a super-glam Motown tribute act who'll be getting the call in the unlikely event I ever require a wedding band.

Over to you Day Two.