Mercury Nominations 2008

Nominees for what we should now call the Nationwide Mercurys 2008 are in, and are:

- Elbow: The Seldom Seen Kid
- Laura Marling: Alas I Could Not Swim
- Robert Plant & Alison Krauss: Raising Sand
- Adele: 19
- The Last Shadow Puppets: The Age Of The Understatement
- Portico Quartet: Knee-Deep In The North Sea
- Burial: Untrue
- Neon Neon: Stainless Style
- Estelle: Shine
- British Sea Power: Do You Like Rock Music?
- Rachel Unthank & The Winterset: The Bairns
- Radiohead: In Rainbows

No Portishead then.

No Duffy either.

Have they got it right?

Latitude: day 3 - Imagine If...

Jamil has just told me that Nick Cave has two kids. Imagine if Nick Cave was your dad! Brrrr.

Latitude: day 3 - How Are Things On The East Coast?

Well, apparently it's left to me to end things with the final dregs of battery. So we sat and watched The Breeders, who were relaxed to the extreme. To say the least. And we saw George Pringle. Who was good.

Now we're in the midst of facial hair central with Grinderman and we've got New York's finest, Interpol, to come. It should be epic.

Latitude Day 3 - final thoughts

This will probably be my last post as my phone is out of juice, I'm currently hogging a spare laptop in the press tent and I will be in no condition to walk back up here and type anything coherently after I polish off a bottle of red for Grinderman and Interpol and engage in nocturnal activity our esteemed senior editors would otherwise be encouraging had they been here. So Latitude 2008 is in its final hours musicwise. I've still got Midnight Juggernauts' synth heavy melodies pouring out of my ears, though its being disrupted by The Breeders, who I can hear. All in all this is the environment I had hoped to find myself in. My last major festivals were Gatecrasher, Benicassim and Glastonbury and I needed something different, which I've found: setting, size, atmosphere, audience, the music, the poetry, the human zombies being chased by torch wielding staff, the cabaret raves... it goes on. Over to Tim... Shit, just realised I have to meet him in seven minutes - until next time folks! J x

Latitude Day 3 - Mistaken identity and a spot of sleb spotting

So there I was standing patiently in the potato wedges queue when I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Excuse me sir, are you the singer from The Mars Volta?" I looked at my reflection in the window: 'fro, tight black top, tight skinny fit jeans and black pointy boots. I smiled sheepishly. I was starved and hungover, and replied no to the old man. His daughter had dragged him to TMV's progathon last night. We discussed prog for a while and what a great festival Latitude was turning out to be. I was tempted to bring up King Creosote, but I really needed to eat. An hour later I caught Alex Turner, Matt Helders and the Arctic Monkeys bassist eyeing the pie stall feverishly. Slebs: common as muck.

Latitude: day 3 - Is This Joke In Bad Taste?

Pink clad Oxfam employees stalk the ground outside the Pimms bus clutching a series of postcards with 'issues' on. Idea being, you pick the one that you'd be most inclined to take action on, put your email on it and then get sent what Oxfam are doing about it.

The issues are things like injustice, doom mongering, climate change and uh, apathy. Now, I would have picked apathy, but in all honesty, I just couldn't be fucking bothered...

Latitude: day 3 - These Few Puritan Watchers

Ok, there weren't masses of people who can back this up, but These New Puritans are still fascinating. They are dark, prickly and have the grim determination of men (and a woman) who have seen the future, and it rhymes with myopia. Not yer average festival fare. It's enough to drive you to drink. Speaking of which... Beer'o'clock.

Latitude Day 3 - Joannaitus spreads

The word on everyone's lips was that set. Satin Peaches tried to use it as a form of audience interaction to the sound of dead air and a baby crying in the background. That's probably because they came across like The Feeling aping Placebo. Straight from the doghouse indeed.

Up at the Sunrise Arena, Jeremy Warmsley was forgetting his words too and handled the screw up as dignified as Miss Newsom, delivering a highlight set of folktronica. The day still belongs to Joanna Newsom, so far, but as Tim has mentioned, there is plenty still to come. I'm rather deflated from all the vodka and gin he insisted on passing my way so I'm going to take five before Noah and the Whale.

Latitude: day 3 - To Whit The Beginning Of The End

Aye, it's the last day. And there's still plenty to see. The Breeders, Grinderman, Interpol are all high on the list of things to do this evening, helpfully positioned one after the other on the main stage. Before that a spot of These New Puritans and George Pringle will help warm us up. Plus, seeing Pringle will mean that those of us playing tent bingo will be able to stand, raise their arms and scream "Full house!!!". Actually, you're right: it's only me playing tent bingo. Hard as I tried to sell it. And I've found a charger for my phone. It's looking up. But we can't help thinking of Joanna Newsom. Awww. She looked so nervous. So distraught. So, Joanna, if you're reading this, don't worry. You were great.

Latitude: day 3 - Joanna Newsom Forgets Herself

Just when we were wondering how exactly how Ms Newsom remembered all the words to her 20-minute compositions about chim-chim-areeees she, uh, doesn't. Sawdust And Diamonds is aborted as, despite crowd help, she just can't remember the words. Doesn't matter though; she is the sweetest, most lovable, most amazing performer. And she plays three new songs. On a piano. But we won't harp on about it, seeing as she heads to London to be reviewed at Somerset House tonight...