The fields overlooking Glynde Place were fittingly picturesque for this sensible and scrupulously clean weekender, which concluded litter- and mud-free, even after a weekend of unpredictable weather and prosecco-drinking. The most transgressive sight all weekend was one sozzled punter in harem pants napping peacefully in the dappled sunlight. Alongside three stages and a bandstand was an eclectic mix of picket-fenced bars, yurts decorated with patterned throws, gluten-free cafes, a vaping promo van and a small, eerily quiet fairground run by bored-looking staff.
Bar a few squealing children and discerning twentysomethings, the majority of festival-goers were raincoat-clad, middle-aged and middle-class. And most brought their own camping chairs.
There was talent to be found on every stage (including St Germain, Kamasi Washington, Kelis), but Saturday’s penultimate act Lianne La Havas stood out with her sweet, powerful voice and darkly humorous lyrics. Everything was done with grace and charm, including swift recoveries from a few technical hitches.
And the worst
Probably Morcheeba, whose setlist of classics and new material - contending with cold winds and persistent drizzle - mustered a chilly reception (although their touching Bowie tribute fared a little better).
Moon Hooch, a trio of former buskers from New York, performed a wildly entertaining set at the Arena. Saxophonists Mike Wilbur and Wenzi McGowen played with such ferocity that they nearly bumped heads, while drummer James Muschler worked himself into a sweaty frenzy. It was the liveliest the crowd had been all day.
Unsurprisingly, Grace Jones, whose daring stage attire and toned 68-year-old physique was the hot topic. Wearing what initially appeared to be a bodysuit but turned out to be her own skin covered in white paint, the singer also had numerous additions to her ‘outfit’, including a gold skull mask, feather headdress, black cape, long blond wig, cowboy hat and oversized bow.
Naked Grace Jones on Saturday night: “I’d better drink some whisky tonight ’cos it’s fucking cold.” She proceeded to drink heartily throughout her performance.
Gogglebox’s resident loudmouth Louis Michael conveys his happiness to Lianne La Havas: