The last day of the festival and by no means has the big name talent run out yet. As buggered as I am after five nights camping and three days of rocking I muster up my last reserves for one more gig marathon. The starting gun came in the form of Figurines, whose angular take on indie-rock has already gained them a decent following in their native Denmark. I took in their brief set before dashing off to catch Swedish Evergrey whose write-up promising ‘heavy guitar bombardments’ had appealed to my sensibilities. It took mere seconds of enduring comically dramatic vocals and metal posturing to prove true the saying that writing about music is like dancing about architecture. I took the opportunity of leave to have one last stroll about the grounds before my intense schedule began. Naturally, being in Denmark, the site has a cool look to it and besides music there is also street sport, a cinema, cafés, bars and an array of art installments to admire and interact with throughout the site which make for a good break if you get gigged-out.

I was far from it though and my plan was to catch the first half of the Arctic Monkeys’ set – you know, just to see what all the fuss is about – before racing to Wolfmother on the opposite end of the grounds. Ha! How naïve I am. The crush from the throngs spilling over from the tent began as soon as the band were within earshot so I abandoned and instead secured myself a beer and a prime viewing spot for the saviours of Oz rock. Which is not to say there aren’t and haven’t been better Aussie bands, but the ‘Mother have been getting an unprecedented amount of attention here in Europe and damn it makes me proud. The flags flew overhead as they performed the hell out of their hour plus set and it wasn’t just the Aussie contingent singing along. Their extensive touring since I last saw them has sharpened their act and Andrew Stockdale remains a great frontman to watch with his cheeky grin and endearingly awkward way.

After such a fun performance, The Strokes came off as a bit boring – the irrepressible fact is that they’re just not a main stage act. Their modest anthems belong on indie club dancefloors; onstage their presence is more about eye candy than anything else. Which then got me thinking – why didn’t they give the mainstage slot to the more relevant and energetic Arctic Monkeys or to Placebo; a band with a far more extensive repertoire? As it was Placebo played at the Arena stage, in what turned out to be a disappointingly unremarkable and self-indulgent set consisting almost entirely of tracks from their latest album Meds. Musically they hit all the right notes, but the lack of crowd favourites – this is a festival after all – saw the tent empty gradually throughout and many missed the brilliant closer of Running up that Hill.

Big news of the day was the last minute cancellation of Goldfrapp due to illness which meant for me that in a band schedule clash The Raconteurs won by default. After hearing Steady as She Goes and thinking ‘Yeah whatever’ at around the same time as Jack White recorded his song for Coke I suspected the band might be a case of Mr White capitalising on his fame; but I was happily proven wrong. They were actually damn good and played some really meaty tunes which made me mentally swallow my pride and resolve to check out their album. I could listen to White let loose on that guitar of his forever and with a proper band behind him (sorry Meg) it’s awesome – the bluesy cover of Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) proved one of the best encores of the festival.

After such an amazing four days there are few acts on earth capable of achieving an upward trajectory but surely the performance of Dark Side of the Moon in its entirety is in that minority. Sure it’s not Pink Floyd, just Roger Waters playing bass and emphatically punching the air while some other chumps (albeit amazingly talented chumps) play the music of Wright, Mason, Barrett and Gilmour, but even if they just blasted the CD version of Dark Side on those amazing main stage speakers it would have knocked everyone’s socks off. And to be fair, Waters was great, singing perhaps 70 per cent of the material and treating the crowd to all the favourites including Have a Cigar, Shine On You Crazy Diamond, Another Brick in the Wall, Wish You Were Here (cue tears) and even Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun. The climax though was the epic Comfortably Numb, the most perfect closing imaginable for my Roskilde experience. As the Orange Stage closed for the last time, and with our ears still ringing everyone seemed to share in a simultaneous sense of exhilaration, relief and melancholy. Back to the real world now. I think of the many people I’ve seen over the days still sporting numerous wristbands from past Roskilde festivals and I understand. I will be back.