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Joanna Newsom! Elbow! Julian Cope! And More!

Back from Latitude, then, and plenty of things to talk about. I spent the weekend blogging over at our dedicated Latitude blog. Lots of highlights, as you might imagine. . .

The Ultimate Latitude Review

Over the weekend, the Uncut team filed innumerable reports from the Latitude festival. Here's a quick round-up of links to help you find your way through it all. . .

Latitude: Black Lips

There's a term for a person who knowingly and consensually allows another person to inflict pain on them, and from this day forth they shall be known as Black Lips fans.

Latitude: Interpol

As I’m nearing the main stage, a mournful funeral wail of a riff starts up, soon to be joined by stiff drums and icy synth. If Sigur Ros hadn’t started their set with “Svefn-G-Englar” last night, it would surely be the most doomy headline set opener of the festival. Of course, it's Interpol.

Latitude: The Breeders / Grinderman

“Given though this is a family affair, we all know someone who’s a meth head or a speed freak,” thus it is that Kim Deal endears herself to the good ladies and gentlemen of Latitude.

Latitude: Overheard Conversations Part 4

The good folk of Latitude are becoming more lucid and lyrical, as guest blogger Terry Staunton has discovered...

Latitude: Okkervil River

Toddling over from The Breeders’ shambolic but utterly brilliant set, I check in on Okkervil River, who seem to be practically filling up the Uncut Arena. This is obviously a band who inspire a lot of love. Unsurprising, of course, looking at their clothes. All the band are dressed to the hilt in tailored suits, white shirts and braces like a transatlantic Pogues. What’s not to love?

Latitude: t-shirt slogans and “Spiritual doorbells”

Here's some lists compiled by the UNCUT collective here at Latitude.

Latitude: Phill Jupitus, Frankie Boyle, yet more Ross Noble

We are, of course, victims to the capricious whims of fate – particularly in relation to the wind and the tricksy way it displaces sound at festivals. You might, for instance, find yourself bewitched by some contemporary ballet going on down by the lake, only for the mournful hymns of a lone cellist who’s soundtracking the dance to be rudely drowned out by some shouty indie band on a nearby stage.

Latitude: More Overheard Conversations

Our man in the battered cowboy hat, Terry Staunton, has been out earwigging on festival goers conversations. Here's his latest report from the frontline of Latitude...
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