Sunday. What a day. Usually reserved for lounging about in front of the telly, throwing a touch of glitter into the mix is Citadel – the sort of one-day festival that green fields were created for. Its headliners, Foals, are no ordinary band, a troop perpetually chomping at the bit to win over doubters. This is a huge British band, one whose forward thinking layers build a ship we can all sail into battle on.
From top to bottom, Citadel is crammed full of exciting bands – none more so than Parcels. After announcing their arrival with ‘Overnight’ a few weeks ago, today is an opportunity to witness them in that golden moment where things are starting to take shape. Melding the glam strut of Chic with the sophisticated cool of Phoenix, it’s early doors, but Parcels are destined to deliver something pretty special.
Ardyn’s early set of wholesome Americana is lit with swooping melody, with closer ‘Together’ a lush example of their sparkling form. In sharp contrast, Bellevue Days are all about kicking the day in the face, with their early set a scratch on the surface of a band committed to uncompromising rock breakdowns. Ruffling a few feathers with the early morning Pimms drinkers, it’s the perfect example of making a 20-minute slot truly unforgettable.
There’s something staggering about Maggie Rogers’ rise. It was only 12 months ago that she dived head-first into a world of twisting electro-pop, and now she finds herself playing to thousands on main stages around the globe. It’s a feeling written across Maggie’s face throughout her storming showcase, rich and packing a sound that’s laced with euphoria. A glance into a technicolour world, ‘Alaska’ and ‘On + Off’ spark in style.
In the corrugated surroundings of the JagerHaus, Willie J Healey is a man on a mission. His slacker-soaked, lo-fi dreaming comes to the fore, seizing crowds that queue around the block to get a peek. ‘Best Friend’s Sister’ rings with an added ramshackle jolt while ‘Would You Be’ fizzes. Lining himself up as a songwriter of note, Willie J Healey seems ready to bolt out of the starting block. No matter if it’s in a steel tin or a big ‘ol field, you’d bet your money on Willie any day.
That innate spirit of Citadel is in full display as Laura Marling takes to the stage. It’s staggering that at only 27 years of age she boasts such a catalogue of moving visits into love and life. Laura stands above everything, managing to blend the pure fabric of life with an earthly grounding that rings throughout. Melodies croon out, and new cuts from latest LP ‘Semper Femina’ ease effortlessly into a set that can’t be looked away from. A comforting hand on the shoulder, today at Citadel confirms how vital Laura Marling is.
To follow that needs some panache, and it’s that which Wild Beasts are primed for. Over the course of the past 12 months and latest album ‘Boy King’, they’ve become a band comfortable with the biggest of stages, something which is in pure display at Citadel. Taking every pulsing left turn and fixating it into one delectable cocktail, their presence has become a formidable one – one that takes every neon chime and emboldens it throughout. Sweet nuggets like ‘Alpha-Female’, ‘Big Cat’, ‘Get My Bang’ and ‘Wanderlust’ are a swooping sensation in neo-pop lighting, taking the thousands gathered through a trip that has become so diverse and impulsive that it can be nothing but staggering. It’s the sort of set that doesn’t solidify where they are, but instead, claws at something even bigger. Wild Beasts roar and Victoria Park is on its knees.
In the midst of the swarming bodies and humid surroundings, Sylvan Esso are a refreshing bottle of ice-cold water. Heady yet crystallised late-night beats fuse with soaring hooks for a set that fuses emotion with creativity, truly laying themselves out on a dazzling island of their own. Equally doing so is A Blaze Of Feather, caked in mystery but once the music starts there’s only one world it belongs to. Carefully orchestrated and delicate in its approach, it’s a set that makes people feel – with a certain Ben Howard perched towards the back of the stage. Like a grand painting of musical brilliance, what comes from them could be truly special and on today’s evidence, there’ll be plenty in awe of it.
After the calm comes the fury, and Yonaka are more than up to the challenge of delivering. Scorching with intensity, the beat the stage around like a punching bag in Mike Tyson’s gym – throwing themselves around the stage with a tribal-induced savageness. They’re a band that ooze that desire for big stages, one that shakes at the very foundations you see around with a catalogue that is waiting to be bellowed back at them. Today is a tantalising sneak peak, Yonaka aren’t waiting for anyone to give them the nod – they’re gunning straight ahead, and their line of fire is going to be bloody huge.
Steeped on the Main Stage, Bonobo is a commanding presence with the sort of show that orchestrates how influential he’s become. Dense and textured, his live band allows for experimentation and freedom – a gorgeous tapestry on which to write his story. Slices from across his career make their mark, surrounding Citadel in an undeniable swell of lush percussion and visionary thoughts. It’s not in your face or aggressive, but alluring and potent. This is a set of immeasurable power and one that puts the tick next to everything Bonobo is and will become.
Foals couldn’t give a fuck what day of the week it is. Every day is theirs, and kicking the pedal full-throttle tonight proves it. They thrash out of the blocks with the sort of uncontrollable energy that’d knock the rest of the summer on its arse. It’s not just that Foals are a band firmly at ease with the level they now sit at, it’s that they are completely fixated on becoming something bigger, something louder and with an unquenchable thirst for a live experience beyond any description. An opening flurry of ‘Mountain At My Gates’, ‘Snake Oil’ and ‘Olympic Airways’ triggers a set that manages to look back and gaze forward all while sounding raw and new – dipping into ‘Antidotes’, rarities like ‘Electric Bloom’ and ‘Heavy Water’ get an airing in a set that manages to melt everything that Foals are about into one throat-grabbing force.
Organically focused on the details which blossom into spellbinding moments, the breadth of who they are is mesmerising. When ‘Spanish Sahara’ drops in the middle of the set, as the night covers Victoria Park, it becomes a mass congregation. A guiding example of how to set the hairs on the back of your neck up in sheer awe, Yannis seizes the moment as he prowls around the stage – baying for more and flinging himself into every note and spiral. In a set that flexes and pushes its chest out, ‘Inhaler’ and ‘What Went Down’ set fire to Victoria Park with primal intensity, a fitting raise of the glass to the role they now play in British music.
Foals aren’t just headliners, they’re a force of nature. What they do from here isn’t clear, but what’s obvious is that it’ll be just as captivating and real as everything that has made them who they are. Foals are a band of immeasurable importance, one that sweats and pulses with freedom and emotion. This is music you can feel, but can never get hold of. That’s worth celebrating time and time again.