My good friend Stuart tells me that Squeeze played here in 89, supported in part by the Hothouse Flowers, i remember little of the day and wonder where my life has gone. Today the festival has an unshaven quality about it, young and full of rascals on the rave. Headline acts sound massive in the field and people race from stage to stage hotdogs in hand beers in belly. Back stage we hover in the amplified heat of the afternoon, bands look important as they hang outside the dressing rooms in little groups clutching laughter and alcohol. Our chaps are proudly reading Mojo, this month a four star album review and a two page spread that brings beaming smiles to the dressing room, its great to be part of this smile. Large album posters dominate the fences beyond the cool dressing room walls. On stage the band kick up a forty minute storm and the tent goes nuts, Pete is playing his bass like he might lose it, Josh is cool as angels playing in full flight, Evan is weaving the backbone while Ross is singing with a soar throat but you would never know it, he is in command. Back stage Niall and i pear on with joy and pride while the record company wade into the crowd, everyone seems happy. As dusk settles in and the dust of a long day gets into your hair its time to head home down the M23. Its been a long day coming from Cardiff and the night before. The band travel on to Leeds and Reading 89 slowly comes back to me. It was smaller then, and so was i.

This from The Telegraph .

So I left and saw The Strypes, four kids from Ireland with a massive future. Cocky, intense and so good I thought they had a hidden fifth member, they played frenetic 60s-influenced blues, including Bo Diddley covers.