"Is this the way they say the future's meant to feel? Or just 20,000 people standing in a field." - Pulp, 'Sorted For E's & Wizz'

Reading Festival 2000

It’s Sunday night. Usually you’d be slumped in front of an insipid TV drama set in a picturesque Celtic village. But not tonight. Oh no. Tonight you are sat on a patch of damp grass, nursing a diluted beer, surrounded by 50,000 muddy revellers.

Welcome to the last night of Reading Festival 2000.

So brew yourself another luke-warm Pot Noodle, breathe in those burning plastic fumes, lie back and let Hobgoblin take you on a trip through this year’s essential Reading highlights.

Friday

Yeah, they do sound a bit like Radiohead, but Elbow have more than enough tunes to call their own. The crystal loveliness of "Newborn" could easily match Sparklehorse at their most, well, sparkly, while the fragile vocals evoke an emotional Nick Drake.

King Adora (picture, left) are the aural equivalent of a ton of glitter being strangled by a feather boa, but this is not a simple case of style over content. They have yet to guarantee that their powerchords and glam posing live up to their way with a soundbite, but if "Bionic" and "Big Isn’t Beautiful" are a taste of things to come, then this is one rollercoaster not to be missed.

Sounding like the Pixies covering Spandau Ballet using only one chord, Clinic’s brand of indie has more jangles than Johnny Marr, all performed by a bunch of, er, surgeons. Mmmm. Great.

Primal Scream are a mass of thunderous beats and raw polemic, with Bobby Gillespie’s sweetly rasping vocals framing a set that has never sounded so exhilarating. Despite a couple of absences ("Star" in particular), the menace of "Kowalski" and Bobby’s ‘man being beaten with cattle-prod’ dancing to "Loaded" saw a band with fire in their eyes.

Judging from their performance at Reading, Oasis’s best career move yet may be to quit while they’re slightly behind. The setting is perfect, even down to the breathtaking lightning strikes during "Wonderwall", but something isn’t right. Maybe it is the obvious animosity between the Gallaghers, the same tried and tested set, or a lack of the passion for success which made them so vital in the first place. "Live Forever" and "Acquiesce" can still send shivers down the spine, but in this climate, that’s just not enough.

Saturday

The award for the most ludicrous haircut of the weekend goes to the lead singer of At The Drive In, whose barnet falls somewhere between Heather Small and X-Man Wolverine. Fortunately, the Fred-Durst-beating-the-crap-out-of-Ozzy-Osbourne rawk of "One Armed Scissor" more than compensates for their dodgy taste in facial hair.

Damon Gough’s twisted storytelling, resulting in a triumphant "Born in the USA" was just one of the highlights of Badly Drawn Boy’s endearingly shambolic performance. Not so for The Wannadies, who wouldn’t know a shambles if it slapped them in the face. Yes, "You and Me Song" was inevitably the song most of the bedraggled crowd were waiting for, yes, the pop perfection of "Hit" and "Might Be Stars" were delivered with the expected joie de vivre, and no, we wouldn’t change them for the world.

Talking of change, we waited five years for the return of Elastica, expecting a new direction, at least, to speak for their hiatus. But no, they still sound like Wire. And thank God for that. "Generator" and "Stutter" pummel the brain like a blunt pneumatic drill, with a welcome outing for "Waking Up" showing just how sharp this band can be when on form.

Frontmen just don’t get any better than Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker. From climbing up the side of the stage scaffolding to his trademark dancing, Cocker has the crowd in the palm of his hand from the moment he steps on stage. The fact that this coincides with a blistering "Common People", and a set which doesn’t let up from glorious new song "Sunrise" to a surreally joyous "Babies" is testament to his righteous place as the King of Pop. Possibly.

Sunday

A fusion of rap and rock. Interchangeable drummer and vocalist. Mohobishopi's (picture, left) CV may not be perfect, but the helium vitality of "Hear the Air" is just what is needed to shake off that Sunday morning hangover.

Welcomed onstage with riotous chants of "Boon army", Clint Boon Experience prove they have a shedload of tunes, and they aren’t afraid to use them. Exactly ten years after Inspiral Carpets headlined the main stage, a triumphant rendition of "This Is How It Feels" sees the charismatic frontman back on top form. Is this the new revolution? I certainly hope so.

So, to the monster of plastic pop that is the reviled Daphne and Celeste. Hated with the kind of passion we usually reserve for ‘new’ Manics fans, the vapid duo draw one of the biggest crowds of the weekend, who proceed to pelt them with three days’ worth of festival detritus. And quite rightly so, methinks.

Slipknot, on the other hand would probably rejoice in such a frenzied display of hatred, but no one around here is exactly going to go out of their way to taunt the masked men. Upon the Clown’s order to "f***ing jump, you f***ing maggots", we moshed like we’d never moshed before. No questions asked. Nurse, my ears are bleeding...

As antagonistic as always, Steven Jones and his Baby Bird deliver a darkly menacing set in between taunting crowd members and forgetting which festival they’re at ("Hello Leeds!"). Nevertheless, it is the lighter notes which are the most memorable: the mischievous schoolchild of "The F-Word", and a glorious outing of "Goodnight" to close a sweet and sour performance.

 

It was touted by the NME and Melody Maker as "the best festival bill...ever!", and, surprisingly, Reading ‘00 lived up to expectations. Oasis didn’t implode before our eyes, Slipknot nearly did, and everyone, everyone joined together in the fight against Daphne and Celeste. That’s the festival spirit. Roll on Reading 2001.