It's mid-afternoon and there's a man that looks like Agent Cooper from Twin Peaks sporting the beard of a post-Beatles Macca on the main stage. Surely that's not the Eels? Yep, and they're thrashing out yet another version of this year's most covered tune, Missy's 'Get Ur Freak On'. Timbaland's convulsive repetition gets re-purposed by E, Butch and friends as they twist the tabla rhythms into an unending hypno-guitar groove.
The new Eels stuff proves that after the uncharacteristically upbeat nature of their last album, there's change afoot again. 'Dog Faced Boy' is a lo-fi revelation with E singing whilst playing the keyboard with one hand and bashing a drum with the other. 'It's A Motherfucker' is as touching an account of the multiple tragedy that has befallen this man as he's ever committed to wax but it's too intimate to be felt in all it's aching understatement by this crowd, restless with the anticipation of "the next big thing." As the set draws to a close they start to move in, some with their skinny ties already in place for The Strokes.
Over in the Evening Session tent there's some bonkers light relief and casual political awareness to be enjoyed courtesy of a Beastie Boy between albums - BS2000.
Whilst MCA is campaigning for Tibetan freedom and Mike D's building his lo-fi empire, Ad Rock appears to have been making punk tunes with a synth-pop band. Needless to say, it's fantastically good fun. He takes a run up each time he heads for his keyboard, looking for a way to put it through the same violent ritual that he would a guitar but the thing just sits there. Keyboards, after all, really aren't very punk are they?
If the crowd take nothing more from this performance they ought to recognise how clearly it signals the extent to which the Beasties have drifted off into their own concerns. Oh and as concise a feminist statement as you're ever likely to hear from a rock star. "Don't let any guy tell you that you can't do exactly what you want to do," Ad Rock offers. Enough said.
I Am Kloot prove to be a highlight of Friday's bill on the miniature Carling Stage. "Good to see our career has sky-rocketed" comments the terminally embattled but thoroughly charming frontman John Bramwell, as the band prepare to expose a host of disturbing and, yes, gritty, Northern naked wounds.
Although the so-called Nu-acoustic movement has acted as a launchpad of exposure for the Mercury-nominated Turin Brakes, I Am Kloot's presence, despite the thoroughly compelling debut album 'Natural History', maroons them in exactly the same place as last year.
Troubled and charged acoustic excursions such as 'Too You', 'Morning Rain', 'Storm Warning', 'Titanic' and a glorious '86 TV's' simply reflect that this band deserve a far bigger stage than this. Put your money where our mouth is.
Evan Dando turns in an engaging set for the scattered crowd not watching Green Day, although it's hard not to wonder what he makes of being up against such formidable competition up where not long ago he would have been. Still, those halcyon days are relieved here with some choice selections from The Lemonheads' back catalogue - 'It's A Shame About Ray', 'Big Gay Heart', a tender acoustic 'My Drug Buddy' and a great sprint through 'Rudderless'.
Balanced against this are a handful of new songs that suggest Dando is now pursuing the country-rock path of his hero Gram Parsons more earnestly. For a man with such a rich past, he deserves a wider audience.
Reviews: James Poletti, Ben Gilbert, Simon Ward and Chris Heath
