The early part of Longitude’s final day confirms three things that we already knew – All Tvvins have developed into one of the most viscerally exciting guitar bands around; no stage is now too big for HamsandwicH and Rusangano Family deserve to be mentioned in the same socially conscious hip hop breath as Public Enemy and NWA. The Clare-Limerick trio start off playing to the sound crew and end up with a sweaty, heaving tent of new converts. Result.
Courtney Barnett was sensational last year in Whelan’s but, unlike the aforementioned Niamh Farrell & Co., looks lost on the big stage where the crowd quickly thins out. The Australian, who it must be said throws some seriously mean guitar shapes, is unlucky to be up against the day’s big buzz act Christine And The Queens whose Chaleur Humaine album has been selling like extremely hot gateaux here. When Hot Press forces its way into an insanely packed Heineken Tent Ms. Letissier and her three B-Boy dancers are having their wicked way with Technotronic’s ‘Pump Up The Jam’, which segues neatly and naughtily into the slink-ily seductive ‘Intranquilité’. There’s a hero’s welcome for ‘Tilted’, the breathy, Shakira-ish tune that took the Graham Norton Show by storm last month. A big, engaging presence, Christine takes time out to compare some vegetables she just happens to have with her to Beyoncé and Rihanna whose carrotalike gets a lick.
“You could be whatever you want, you could be a bicycle, there’s no judgment there,” she tells the somewhat bemused crowd. “I’ve stopped trying to fit in. Everything is really straight anyway, and I’m just slightly dirty.”
At times, it’s all a bit too bargain basement Madonna for me, but there’s no denying that Christine And The Queens have comprehensively captured Irish hearts as well as the charts.
Back on the Main Stage, Joshua Tillman is having the time of his Father John Misty life. The winsome Nashville twang of ‘Nothing Good Ever Happens At The Goddamn Thirsty Crow’ and ‘Fun Times In Babylon’ is tailor-made for the early evening sunshine.
Unlike Courtney Barnett, the coolest 35-Year-Old On The Planet knows there’s a big screen camera trained on him and mugs it for all its worth. Busting out some mountain man Jarvis Cocker moves, he finishes on a rocking high with ‘Holy Shit’ and ‘I Love You, Honeybear’, a song that becomes more impossibly beautiful with every airing. Incidentally, looking at the setlists for his other European festival dates, it’s evident that Father John Misty has become a rejigger of almost Springsteen-esque proportions.
“I left my bitch at home/ I think I need a new bae,” Vic Mensa is darkly intoning when we arrive back at the Heineken Main Stage. Not being of the yo-ing and a ho-ing persuasion, I’m about to beat a hasty retreat when Kanye’s Chicagoan mate redeems himself with the spine-tingling black lives matter rap of ‘Shades Of Blue’. The anger is as articulate as it is righteous with Vic casting an almost documentary-maker’s eye over what’s going down on the southside of Chitown.
The scuzzy punk rock guitar at the start of ‘Liquor Locker’ – apparently he’s partial to a Bombay Blue Gin or eight – underlines just how broad a musical palette Mensa is painting from.
A megaphone is brandished during ‘U Mad’, the Allah, Montell Jordan, 2 Chainz, Lexapro and The Matrix-referencing banger, which cues up drop-heavy set-closer ‘There’s A Lot Going On’.
All of which puts Vic Mensa in the same rarified, genre-bending category as Friday night headliner Kendrick Lamar.
Not being as keen on blokes rifling their super-cool record collections for an hour as most Longitude-goers are, I bid a rather bored farewell to Jamie xx after 15 minutes and head to the Whelan’s Stage where Lucius are doing their patented electro ‘60s girl pop thing. Sporting matching Sherlock Holmes capes and razor-sharp bleach blonde bobs, Jess and Holly almost but not quite out-glam Róisín Murphy who, he says switching into Gok Wan mode, arrives on stage in an outsize security jacket before revealing a red satin jacket and blue flared pants combination. I'll get that job with Vogue if it kills me.
Accompanied by a retina-searing Tesla Coil lightshow, the Arklow-born songstress gets the Mass Bop of the Day Award for ‘Sing It Back’. A new millennium Grace Jones, Ms. Murphy deserves every drop of the adulation she’s finally getting at home.
Tonight is a victory lap for The National who, having looked a tad embarrassed by their new superstar status a while back in 3Arena, have subsequently blossomed into consummate festival headliners. That they’ve been able to do this without sacrificing any of their darker tendencies is credit to both band and audience.
So laden with crowd-pleasers that they’re able to dispense with ‘Bloodbuzz Ohio’ just three songs in, The National still exude an authenticity that’s rare in modern rock ‘n’ roll. Other highlights include a garage band 'Squalor Victoria' and an 'England' overflowing with majesty.
Has becoming a millionaire made Matt Berninger, who’s rocking a Billy Connolly beard and ‘do, any happier? Judging by melancholic new song, ‘Can’t You Find A Way’, the answer is a resounding and reassuring, “No!”
It’s a great end to an exceptional weekend.
STUART CLARK