You pretty much couldn’t have a bad time at V-Fest.

The clever people at Virgin Records put on a veritable musical feast; a smorgasbord of delicious songs which catered to all tastes. There were aromatic high brow bands for the indie connoisseur (M83, The Human League), tasteless synthetic bands for the un-adventurous pop lover (Duffy, Snow Patrol) and other bands, namely the murderously good Kills and Killers who could be enjoyed by all. While it meant that there was some music you wouldn’t like, the eclecticism of the lineup ensured that there really was something for everyone. It was great, a degustation of music, enabling punters to pick and choose between band and stage. Being the aforementioned (and appropriately snobbish) indie connoisseur that I am, I did eschew some of the bigger acts to see some acts who I thought to be more interesting, so shoot me if I don’t mention The Kaiser Chiefs or Snow Patrol again. All prejudices aside, the bands I did check out were amazing, and here they are…

I began my day with a quick hit of pscyh revival at the – œOther Stage’ thanks to last year’s local breakout sensation, Tame Impala. Unless you’ve been living under a rock in the arse end of Siberia with your hands in your eyes screaming at the top of your voice, you would have heard this band and know just how good these guys are. Their songs contain all the elements that good psych rock should have. Fast, hooky riffs, brooding heavy bass and a singer with an appropriately grungy wail. But the maturity of Tame Impala’s songcraft belies the youth of their faces. Big singles Desire Be Desire Go and Skeleton Tiger show off the band’s ability to construct songs out of distinct and very different sections. The former is a straight rocker which transforms into a psychedelic jam, the latter a pretty melodic number which descends into a proggy experimental freakout. It is the improvisational abilities of frontman Kevin parker which was most impressive though, especially on standout closer Half Full Glass of Wine. After his extended solo on that my face was literally melted. Melted. Seriously these guys will not be opening festivals for much longer. They are the headliners of the future. I can’t wait.

After being scared silly by the incredible blandness of Duffy’s pre packaged pop ( over-sung and over-instrumentalised) I retreated back into the – œOther Stage’ and holed up there for the rest of the day, and boy was it a good move, because every act inside were smoking hot. The transnational three piece The DØ were up next and enchanted the sparse crowd with their strange brand of perverted pop. Their music incorporates seemingly disparate elements from different musical genres, mashes them together in a blender of filters and samples and comes out with something weird, wonderful and completely original. Take killer track Playground Hustle for example. Beginning with a jazzy flute sample and a schoolyard chant it bubbles along poppily until a section at the end which could almost be described as rap. At any one point in the set this band could be a pop group, a hip-hop trio, a cabaret act or avant-garde experimentalists. It was nothing like I’d ever heard before. Holding it all together, and looking like Juliet Lewis after a month on acid, was enchanting frontwoman (or is it frontman, or frontperson? Oh who knows in this postmodern PC world?) Olivia B. Merilahti whose sultry voice and onstage antics was one of the most captivating performances I’ve seen for years. They may be a bit scattershot for some people’s tastes, but after Saturday they have at least one new fan.

M83. This band is like no other them in the world. The brainchild of electronic jack of all trades Anthony Gonzales, there are very few acts who can match these guys for the sheer emotion that their music elicits. Saturdays=Youth was the best albums of last year, and live it’s even better. Graveyard Girl, probably the poppiest track in M83’s body of work, absolutely went off. Built over ghostly synths and a bouncy guitar line, the chorus, with Gonzales’ divine harmonies with guest vocalist Morgan Kibby, is just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s like being kissed for the first time; you never forget it. The rest of the set was more instrumental, but it was still special. It’s almost shoegaze in its intensity, in the careful layers upon layers of noise. Churning guitars and crashing drums collide with sky high walls of feedback. It’s constantly building, arpeggio by arpeggio, chord by solid chord to a continuous crescendo. The sound is almost 3-D it’s so big. I could keep going all day but I will stop it here by assuring you that it just does not get better than this.

I have a confession to make. I fell in love at V-Fest. It’s with this girl, her name is Alison Mosshart and she’s really cool. She’s the singer for The Kills. They’re a really great two-piece which play minimal blues punk. They have this amazing aesthetic in which all their music is stripped back to its basics. Alison is the singer and a guy called Jamie Hince is the guitarist. I’m really jealous of him because he gets to play with Alison every night and he’s a really amazing guitar player. I heard he’s going out with Kate Moss, so I guess I’m still in with a chance. Alison is tall, with black hair and she has the coolest singing voice. She smokes cigarettes onstage and sometimes plays guitar. Every song they played together was fantastic. They were so good that I feel bad talking about them because I’ll probably make all you poor sods who didn’t get to go jealous how great they were. Back to the most important thing though, I’ve decided that with my Kevin Rudd money I’m going to buy a plane ticket to London and declare my love to Alison. Wish me luck…

It was about half an hour after Alison left the stage that I could actually pick my jaw off the floor and was ready to witness the glory of synth pop masters The Human League. While most punters were off watching the stadium histrionics of The Kaiser Chiefs and The Killers, the rag tag handful of nostalgic baby boomers and retro indie hipsters who stayed in the – œOther Stage’ were treated to a great set by the guys who pretty much invented the 80s. The makeup of the band would have to be unlike any other, ever. There is of course principle singer-songwriter Philip Oakley, dressed like the killer from I Know What You Did Last Summer, ably supported by two female backups. There is a drummer, and a keyboardist, and get this not one, but two guys on the keytar.

It sounds gimmicky but fuck was it fun. It was a surreal experience seeing a six piece band, most of whom are the wrong side of fifty, playing songs that were made before I was born and somehow still sounding fresh and exciting. Yes, a few of them looked a bit worse for wear, and Oakey’s voice got flatter and flatter as the set wore on, but I can see why these guys were so big, back in the glory days of the mullet and spandex. The played all the hits from What Dreams Are Made Of to Love Action, the crowd singing along the entire time. By the time Don’t You Want Me Baby came on there was so much good energy in the room that I just couldn’t keep this cheesy grin off my face. It was such a fitting way to end an amazing day. M83, band crushes and synth pop. What more could you ask for?

CHECK OUT THE PHOTOS FROM THE DAY HERE