Vagabond, Vagabonds, Vagabondo

Just got back from a festival, Vagabondo, to be precise. I spent the entire afternoon there, wandering from stage to stage, as you do. It's definitely the best festival I've ever been to. I mean, where else can you find The Black Lips performing in the back of a rickshaw battling the new-beat poetry of Suicide's Alan Vega, KASMs scaring the beejezus out of Adamski's Killer, Danananaykroyd turning us all onto Sparks and giving Maeve Binchy a good kicking at the same time (I kid you not), pick up some cookery tips from The Dandy Warhols, listen to The Aliens sing about toadstools and, before taking ten minutes in the tea tent, attend Everything Everything's entire history of British Pop?

A quick cup of Earl Grey and I'm back out there.

The Kabeedies kicked off my second half with some rather fine surf-rock, followed by The Unkindness Of Ravens making the blood run cold with a bass-end set to: 're-arrange internal organs' followed by more unsettling tales from none other than the legendary Alec Empire. King Creosote was there, looking pretty good on his campaign to spend a year drink-free. Experiment...'s D Bird was getting a bit love-lorn but Televised Crimewave's rendition of Girl Like You cheered her up no end. As the afternoon's sun began to expire and tiredness creapt upon us all Art Brut's Jasper Future got a bit tetchy about young people and their obsession with nostalgia, at which point the very young Violet Violet leapt around us chanting about vultures and beasts.

See what I mean?

I'm going again tomorrow - see you there?