It's hard to feel unhappy with the world when the sun's shining in some of England's loveliest countryside. So when William Tyler concludes a Sunday afternoon set of guitar instrumentals with a number he says is about the end of the world, he laughs and points out he's having such a lovely time that listeners should feel free to infer a different meaning, given the circumstances. And, indeed, the song is beautiful, his electric guitar sampled and looped until it sounds like music that deserves a stained-glass window behind it.
You see and hear a lot of guitars at End of the Road – dance music has made few inroads here – but used in different ways. For Chili Jesson of Palma Violets, his bass guitar is a weapon, bounced around and hoisted aloft during a thrilling, packed set in the festival's big top. His main rival this weekend for most charismatic young Briton is Jamie Lee of Money, a young man not visibly lacking in self-confidence. He opens with a solo version of Ol' Man River, throws his shoes into the audience, snogs random members of the crowd and leads his band through a breathtaking set. Money will be playing bigger events next summer, higher up the bill.
On Friday evening, it seems almost an act of cruelty to have Parquet Courts – muddy and unconvincing – finish just as David Byrne and St Vincent begin. Their perfectly choreographed showpiece is spectacular, every move thought out, and the guitar playing of St Vincent (Annie Clark) is spectacular: violent flurries of disruption. Proof that you don't need choreography to entertain, though, comes from King Khan and the Shrines, who show that an overweight, moustachioed man requires only a gold-lame shirt and feathered headdress to become the link between 60s soul, rock'n'roll, psychedelia and garage punk.
Saturday night's big draws include Warpaint, bravely chosing to unveil a slew of new songs in front of a festival audience; but there are sound problems throughout their set, and only with Undertow do they really sway the crowd. Sigur Rós, meanwhile, pose the challenge of finding the best place to watch their son et lumière spectacular. Too close and you can't appreciate the lumière, too far and you can't bathe in the son. It's as far from Sunday lunchtime's opening main stage act, Daniel Norgren, as you can get: he's playing a drumkit with his feet, a guitar with his hands and singing, accompanied by a double bassist – and still manages to sound as if he's brought a full band from Texas rather than his mate from Sweden. He's a delight. Like most else on another golden weekend, in fact.
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