Latitude 2015 - porcine shards and the joys of Public Service Broadcasting

Dear Sheddists,

the new day arrives like an asthmatic lark with the splutter of a diesel motor from the camper-van next to us. Time for a quick recce with the camera followed by a skirmish in the showers.

Two things strike me as I undertake my morning ablutions, namely the increasing popularity of ill-conceived tattoos amongst men of all ages and the high incidence of pubic topiary amongst the young.  On my return to Veronica the van I convey this alarming news to mrs electrofried, who is just awakening from her slumbers. She feigns complete indifference and rolls over.

An hour and a half later and we're comfortably ensconced in the breakfast tent. The morning tsunami of hungry campers has already washed away most of the breakfast fare leaving us with crisped slices of bacon that explode into shards of potentially lethal porcine shrapnel on first bite and a variety of mushy things that are orange and of uncertain origin.  Fine stuff with which to start the day!

We've opted to kick off the festival proper in the Comedy Tent, arriving just in time to catch the back end of Elis James and the entirety of Alan Davies, who is side-splittingly fantastic.  His distinctive facial features change chameleon-like from sad spaniel to moon-beamed gurner and back in an instant as he shares the perils of middle-aged manhood.

And so to music...

Femi Kuti and the Positive Force - a fantastic display of Afrobeat on the Main Stage from yet another musical scion of the late, great Fela Kuti. His energetic dancing troupe kicks ass too, considerable quantities of it, clad in blue spandex and pointed for the most part in the general direction of an adoring audience.

King Creosote - an excellent set in the BBC Radio 6 Tent from the legendary Scottish singer/songwriter Kenny Anderson.  Mrs electrofried gives it the thumbs up.

Public Service Broadcasting - we stay on to catch one of the highlights of the festival. I take up position in the mosh-pit only to have Ruby Wax (yes, THE Ruby Wax who is speaking later in one of the other tents) push past me to the front. The music is sublime and when PSB strike up the opening notes of 'Go!', accompanied by the spoken-word archives from the Apollo 11 moon-landing the crowd goes wild. J. Wildgoose, Esq and Wrigglesworth - we salute you!

Caribou - we catch the tail end of their set on the Main Stage. Mrs electrofried is unimpressed by their Neu-like motorik beats so I'm sent in search of a nice cup of PG Tips.  This gives me the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the lady running the Crepe Stall who introduces me to her short-order cook. Apparently he plays Rugby League for England.  I don't know much about his sporting prowess but he makes a mean brew.

Alt-J - a huge disappointment. They look lost on the Main Stage and in desperate need of a comfy blanket and a bulk order of pacifiers.  We leave early on in their set to make our way across to the Film Tent for ...

The White Mink Electro-Swing Club - I thoroughly enjoyed their club evening last year and they prove equally as good this year. Regrettably a long day is starting to catch up so we depart after the first act to make our way back across the twinkling-lit fields in search of Veronica the van and our bed for the night.

Latitude 2014 - the curtains open

Dear Sheddists,

tonight yours truly is to be found tuckered up behind his trusty Victrola, sun-burnt and destitute once more as Master Amazon drains the last  pitiful vestiges of the electrofried current account in return for the promise of yet more silver-glinting discs to come. The washing is on the line and the films are ready for processing - yes, Latitude 2014 was indeed a rip-roaring success, so let's return to the scene of the crime...

Base-camp established 

On Thursday morning we load up Veronica the camper-van and set off in search of four days of music, culture, strong drink and hideously over-priced festival food.  Last year we smuggled mrs electrofried's contraband marmalade jars unwittingly past the waiting Check Point Charlie glass-embargoing gendarmerie. This year it's the turn of my bottle of M&S aftershave to evade detection - 40 degrees proof with a mild but tastefully perfumed after-shock.

We're waved through with little more than a perfunctory glance at Veronica's tight-packed interior and it's onward to claim a prime spot in the general camper-van section. I set the girls to work putting up the awning whilst I focus attentions on the 'Green Agenda' by downing a can or two of Mrs Patel's finest cut-price super-strength lager and depositing the empties in a thoughtfully provided festival recycling bag.

Before long we're surrounded by a veritable cornucopia of camper-vannery ranging from the more modern and tastefully decorated, to the old and much-loved rust-buckets of yore.  Unsurprisingly the 'yoof' opt for the latter whilst the more elderly amongst us plump for the former.

In search of food

Camp safely established we set off in search of sustenance. I've booked a spot at the Latitude lakeside restaurant but a fifteen minute wait with ne'er a sniff of a drink or the offer of a humble crust of bread decides it for us.

We leave for the Noodle Bar just round the corner and they produce the goods in something under thirty seconds.  We're not entirely sure what the goods are, but they fill a hole and so it's on to our first taste of festival music.

Inna 40's stylee

The Film and Music Arena boasts a night of electro swing speakeasy hosted by the White Mink club.  I must confess I had not encountered this curious genre before, but within the beat of a heart it has me captivated!  Old style 1940s jazz backed by a rich panoply of electro-beats is exactly what the doctor ordered.

I join the merry throng moshing to the sounds of Natty Congeroo and the Flames of Rhythm and before long the electrofried knee-swing is seen in full action. The next act, on stage for barely five minutes (in every sense of the word), is a vaudeville act comprising a young lady in full flapper attire and a tastefully placed piano. Suffice to say that by the end of a brief, but spirited performance the piano remains firmly in place but the flapper outfit now decorates the stage floor.

Back to the music and this time it's DJ Chris Tofu spinning vintage platters in what the festival programme promises to be his own inimitable 'selector' style.  And a rather jolly thing it is too, punctuated at regular intervals by repeated rewinds and a healthy measure of back-beat accompaniment to go.

The final act is The Sweet Life Society who have, we are informed, spent two days in a bus criss-crossing Europe to be with us. The crowd rises as one to greet them as the opening salvo of 'Swingin' with the Cadillac' lets rip. It's one sweat-soaked glistening cake-walk from start to finish - glorious, glorious stuff and a great way to see out the night.


So stay tuned for the next exciting episode … !!!