Knebworth : Stevenage Knebworth House
Jamiroquai debuts new album material, while Public Domain, Lo-Fidelity Allstars and Luke Slater rock da funky beatz...
So, the Ministry juggernaut brings the summer festival glut to saturation point. But, having smuggled their pills past the bottle-confiscating security Nazis, no-one minds seeing the same superstar DJs again. And Knebworth offers the lushest fields to lose yourself in anywhere.
The ten stages present the strange problem of there being just too much of everything - meaning even clubland deities like Judge Jules and The Dreem Team find themselves facing half-empty tents. Still, all the more room to shake ass to the reinventive Bent, ace breakbeat kings Stanton Warriors and tribal house champ Danny Howells.
Most of Knebworth, however, descends on the main stage for the return of Lamborghini-crashing environmentalist and wigger-pop icon Jay Kay's Jamiroquai, for which this shebang is essentially a front. Put simply, the white suit-wearing, featherheaded Jay is a tit. But a tit who makes an effort: the stage set is almost Mothership-esque in its opulence, and it's hard not to warm to him when he prances round it, excelling as a hammy nu-vaudeville master.
Brand new opener '2001' is pretty good too, an epic funk-rock splicing which seems far less contrived than the rest of his set. Not without its moments (an hilarious piece of impromptu ballet; the garage breaks and house flashes dropped into the mix), it becomes tiring when you realise all Jamiroquai offer are interminably extended funk-jams through The Hits. Which, you concede, is what The People want.
Thereafter the Knebworth massive splits into several pieces, and it's hard to unite them under one banner beyond 'people who neck shedloads of drugs and sweat a lot'. A trip to the excellent Planet V tent finds Suv, Optical and Krust burning the junglist flamethrower with coruscating, futurist breaks. The Headstart Arena hosts psych-beat troopers the Lo-Fidelity Allstars, whose slam through the ever-brilliant 'Battleflag' makes the remainder of their set look like bloodless water-treading.
But Knebworth's REAL spirit is, improbably, amongst teenagers clad in fridge magnets and gas masks. They're punching the sky to the amazing Public Domain - a Ramones for Gatecrasher kids, headed by belligerent scally MC Lee. For 45 minutes, NME.COM thinks trance urchins aren't so bad after all.
Then back at Headstart, finding Felix Da Housecat and Luke Slater spinning fantastic techno to an audience of virtually no-one, you want to slap them upside the head. It's an appropriate end to the night: the music frequently swung, but so did the mood. Still, such is corporate clubbing.
Noel Gardner
The ten stages present the strange problem of there being just too much of everything - meaning even clubland deities like Judge Jules and The Dreem Team find themselves facing half-empty tents. Still, all the more room to shake ass to the reinventive Bent, ace breakbeat kings Stanton Warriors and tribal house champ Danny Howells.
Most of Knebworth, however, descends on the main stage for the return of Lamborghini-crashing environmentalist and wigger-pop icon Jay Kay's Jamiroquai, for which this shebang is essentially a front. Put simply, the white suit-wearing, featherheaded Jay is a tit. But a tit who makes an effort: the stage set is almost Mothership-esque in its opulence, and it's hard not to warm to him when he prances round it, excelling as a hammy nu-vaudeville master.
Brand new opener '2001' is pretty good too, an epic funk-rock splicing which seems far less contrived than the rest of his set. Not without its moments (an hilarious piece of impromptu ballet; the garage breaks and house flashes dropped into the mix), it becomes tiring when you realise all Jamiroquai offer are interminably extended funk-jams through The Hits. Which, you concede, is what The People want.
Thereafter the Knebworth massive splits into several pieces, and it's hard to unite them under one banner beyond 'people who neck shedloads of drugs and sweat a lot'. A trip to the excellent Planet V tent finds Suv, Optical and Krust burning the junglist flamethrower with coruscating, futurist breaks. The Headstart Arena hosts psych-beat troopers the Lo-Fidelity Allstars, whose slam through the ever-brilliant 'Battleflag' makes the remainder of their set look like bloodless water-treading.
But Knebworth's REAL spirit is, improbably, amongst teenagers clad in fridge magnets and gas masks. They're punching the sky to the amazing Public Domain - a Ramones for Gatecrasher kids, headed by belligerent scally MC Lee. For 45 minutes, NME.COM thinks trance urchins aren't so bad after all.
Then back at Headstart, finding Felix Da Housecat and Luke Slater spinning fantastic techno to an audience of virtually no-one, you want to slap them upside the head. It's an appropriate end to the night: the music frequently swung, but so did the mood. Still, such is corporate clubbing.
Noel Gardner
Jamiroquai denies retirement reports
Jamiroquai : A Funk OdysseyNME Alerts
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