Turn

It’s often difficult on a Sunday afternoon to raise crowd spirits, but it just so happens that Turn’s early set makes for a rather nifty – and effective - hangover cure. Of course, this weekend sees the unveiling of their new bassist, following their round of public auditions. Plucked from obscurity (talk abut being thrown in the deep end), Ciaran is displaying no sign of nerves at all and launches into versions of ‘Dumb As it Is’, ‘Beretta’, ‘Summer Song’ and ‘Another Year over’ as though he was born to. Fortunately, he appears more than able to fill the not inconsiderable shoes of both Alan Lee and Gavin Fox. In fact, he takes to the Ticket Stage with startling aplomb, injecting some welcome vigour into the line-up. And brace yourselves ladies - he’s a looker…

After what seems to be so many stops and starts for Turn, they appear ready to settle into their groove. It would seem their dogged approach to touring has finally paid off, and their songs - many of which were the fruits of their more adverse, frustrating periods - sound better than ever today.

Black Eyed Peas
Just what every festival needs, really – an all singing, all (rain) dancing troupe of hip-hoppers. Alas, rumours that Justin Timberlake may make an appearance today failed to materialise, but these hip-hopers know how to get a party started with or without him. Their set is a colourful mosaic of funk, hip-hop, blues and rock, and they certainly display more bottle than the average urban act. Mercifully, they exude more energy and enthusiasm than is frankly appropriate for a rainy Sunday afternoon. As the populist, glamorous yin to Outkast’s refined, pimpified yang, Black Eyed Peas are proving to be the jewel in an otherwise foddered-up pop chart.

Future Kings Of Spain
"Hope everyone has been to Mass this morning," deadpans singer Joey Wilson. No rock star entrance on to the Ticket Stage for these boyos, they are evidently saving their energy for their incendiary set. Rounding off an incredible year where they sealed their reputation as a consummately brilliant live act, FKOS have tightened their breakneck set. Inserting such crowd-pleasers as ‘Face I know’ and ‘Hanging Around’ into their set, the boys make for uplifting, rousing listening.

It was always going to be interesting to see how their self-titled, Ted Nicely-produced album would transfer in a festival setting, and fortunately their live shows are as gut wrenching and accomplished as their studio work.

Future Kings of Spain? Future kings of arena rock, more like.

Waiting Room
Anyone who thinks that music festivals are an orgy of drunken mindlessness clearly was nowhere near the New Band Stage for Cork’s finest Waiting Room. They appear to be nervous, and it is precisely this nervousness that gives one the impression that, as performers, they have yet to grow into the songs that they have created.

Giving new bucks like Razorlight and Sons & Daughters a run for their money, Waiting Room blur the boundaries between languid, dreamy, Pumpkins-eque euphoria and sturdily built lo-fi rock. Finally, their nerves give way to reveal a band that is fuelled by pent-up, pained energy. In all, it makes for superb listening, and it seems that the hype surrounding them is justified.

The smart money says that the Waiting Room are not long for the anonymity of early afternoon stints at music festivals.

Pink

Proving that there’s more to her than her punked-up princess stance, Pink makes a rather unceremonious entrance to the stage. Rather than bound onto the Main Stage with an army of saccharine teenybopping dancers, Pink takes to the Main Stage as a drummer, singing (and drumming) ‘Don’t Let Me Get Me’. On occasion, she has the audacity to look, dare I say it, bored.

Life, for this afternoon at least, is very much a dance floor, and apart from a rather bile-inducing rendition of 4 Non Blondes’ ‘What’s Going On?’, Pink has more than earned her stripes as an enlivening and accomplished crowd pleaser.

Newly showcased material suggests that Pink is moving towards a softer, more introspective side. We’ve had Punk Pink, Pop Pink and an Urban Pink…could Indie Pink be that far behind?