A gigantic "ahhhh" spreads across the Suffolk countryside as Damon Albarn comes to the close of End of a Century on the second night at Latitude. It's not one of relief from the crowd that he's turned to the Blur back catalogue after a set based around his lovely, but not exactly lively solo album. It's a gasp of pleasure at the spectacle of the lightning forking across the sky. It's a measure of the good-naturedness of this event that the arrival of a biblical deluge is greeted with such wonderment: on a weekend of largely glorious weather, there's a determination to be uplifted that's almost contagious.
Not that Latitude, in its desire to be all things to all festivalgoers, gets everything right. On Saturday afternoon, Afghan Whigs – a band who demand darkness and intimacy – are placed on the main stage in the face of baking sun. There is space to walk to within 15 feet of the band. They're up against the sunny pop of Hall & Oates, appearing – naturally – in the darkness of a tent, and attracting a crowd so big it spills outside. The Philadelphia duo, backed by a hugely efficient band, roll out hit after hit – Family Man, Out of Touch, Say It Isn't So – to a response that plainly rather surprises them. The cheer that greets I Can't Go For That is as loud as anything heard on the main stage all weekend, though plainly a lot of the audience would rather have the chorus repeated so they can mouth "no can do!" at each other rather than a sax solo so long you could pop out to see the two-hour play about Hungarian child refugees in the theatre tent and still be back for the end of the song.
With its theatre and comedy and multitude of non-musical activities, Latitude is the Glastonbury for people who can't cope with the scale of the Somerset festival. So one might say it's almost fitting there's a certain amount of duplication of the Worthy Farm bill: Sunday night headliners the Black Keys were among those high on the Glastonbury bill, as was Friday night's bill-topper, Lily Allen. Any fear she might fail the test of offering the groups of teens an adequate alternative to second stage headliners Mogwai, who've attracted a crowd that appears to be the parents, is dispelled: not everything she does is great, but it's a vibrant pop show, and she adds a welcome dollop of personality.
Not as much as Robyn, though, appearing on the Saturday night on the second stage. Dressed in an extraordinary outfit that appears to have been designed for a sport combining boxing, skateboarding and fishing – she appears to be wearing some sort of designer galoshes – she's a force of nature. Her voice is unremarkable, but she possesses weapons-grade charisma and a set of undeniable songs that combine vulnerability, melancholy, and the adrenaline thrill of the best pop.
For all the star names, Latitude does still offer offbeat pleasures – Sunday opens with an all-star tribute to William Onyeabor, the Nigerian musician who's become a hipster cause celebre since David Byrne's label issued a compilation of his music. That same slot is filled on Saturday by the Tuareg ensemble Tinariwen, whose droning Saharan blues sets some members of the crowd dancing in a manner they might hope is languid and loose-limbed, but might unkindly be described as flailing.
On Friday night, the reformed shoegazers Slowdive attract a crowd with a surprising number of young fans, testament to their growing reputation in recent years, though it's hard to avoid the sense they are to My Bloody Valentine what Gerry and the Pacemakers were to the Beatles. And, on the tiny lake stage, a vast, tattooed and bearded young chap billed as Rag 'N' Bone man, speaking in the dullest of estuarine monotones, starts to sing and reveals himself to have the voice of a long-lost blues legend. When he's joined by another, even vaster, tattooed and bearded young chap, one half expects a bout of tag-team wrestling to ensue, but no, he's a rapper. And then, rather delightfully, Rag 'N' Bone man introduces him: "Thanks to my brother," he says. "Stig of the Dump." Stig of the Dump? You don't get that in LA.
