Underworld close Forbidden Fruit in style

HP’s Sunday started very bright and early, as Alison Spittle and Gearoid Farrelly had our tent in convulsions before there was even a chance to slap on some sunscreen. Little were we to know the bone-shaking, body-vibrating, heart-stopping, electro-popping fare that awaited…
One would have to feel sorry for the driver of the 17:00 train from Cork to Heuston, who would likely have been rattled off-track when FLUME took to the Main Stage. That’s not to say that George Fitzgerald or Jack Thompson didn’t bring it during their earlier tented forays – it’s just to say that Flume brought it, with bass that could flatten a small village. While the set quickly fell into a hip-hop groove, the main arena was enraptured – not least Conor McGregor, whose reaction suggested the Notorious stamp of approval was very definitely given.
Our feet were still gently stinging as we ran to the Undergrowth Stage for Maya Jane Coles. The house queen could scarcely have looked more at home; she less bounced between tables than stylishly sasheyed from one deck to the other, holding the packed tent in her finely-manicured hand. The crowd were in the mood for something substantial – their reactions directly proportional to the filthiness of the beat – and the Londoner delivered in kind, with pounding bass and deep cuts very much to the fore.
But once the bell rang for last set, there was only one focus. Yes, the wonderful Groove Armada were doing their thing, and there were further attractions, but when Underworld rock onto he main stage, then everything goes out the window.
Whether it was the 2012 Olympics – when they teamed with Danny Boyle – that reinvigorated the house veterans isn’t ours to call. What is fundamentally clear is that the Underworld experience goes above and beyond the regular fare – and how. And while arguments of whether ‘Rez/Cowgirl’ really is a bigger festival moment than ‘Born Slippy’ might rage on for weeks, one thing is certain; the manner in which the thousands filed out shouting “Lager, Lager, Lager, Lager,” and bopped into the night proved that the duo still stand as dons of dance some 36 years after arriving on the scene. Long may they reign…