Stage: NME/Radio 1 stage, Reading

Time: Sunday, 10.35pm

Dress code: Shirley Bassey meets a medieval knight: glittery chain-mail tunic and a crutch for the crippled Jamie Reynolds, with James Righton going for a matching spangly top and cardi combination. As with Hadouken!, the only neon was in the audience.

In summary: Klaxons were never supposed to last this long - being saddled with the responsibility of creating a whole new genre by the NME all too often means bands don't last past teatime. But a year after being labelled New Rave, Klaxons are doing better than ever. While Billy Corgan drones on to a half-full field round the corner, the NME tent is overrun with hyperventilating teenagers showering each other with the liquid inside glo-sticks (looks cool but... is that stuff toxic?), crowd surfing on fluorescent lilos and singing along to every weird word of every Klaxons song. You can tell this is the end of the Klaxons festival season: somewhere between Glastonbury and here they've learned to keep time, and now put on a slick and professional show. A real coming-of-age occasion.

Highlight: The crowd doing the "ooh-ee-ooh-ee-ooh-ee-ooh, ah-ah" bits in Golden Skans so loudly you couldn't hear the band.

Better than: The Smashing Pumpkins

Worse than: Not a lot. They were the perfect band to close this teenage-tastic festival.

Talking point: Was Jamie Reynold's pained expression due to him being overwhelmed by the huge crowd, or was his broken leg simply causing him agony?

Where they'll be next year: The main stage? Those glo-sticks would look ace outdoors.

Mark out of 10: 8.5