Thom Yorke
Obelisk Arena
Sunday, 12.00

Getting the Radiohead frontman in to perform a 12 noon set on the final day smacks not only of a canny attempt to rouse the hordes from sleeping bag slumber, but also of a rather obvious attempt to recreate That Festival Moment all such gatherings are supposed to have these days. And indeed, his set sounds pleasant enough floating through the trees as the Quietus makes it down to the main stage but, curiously, it all feels a little empty, a little lacking in engagement, in purpose, even if a version of ‘Everything In Its Right Place' does show off Yorke's voice wonderfully. From someone so polite, up there in his ruffled hair and grandpa shirts and friendly bonhomie, the wobblyheaded whinging jars, and it's all-too-tempting to shuffle off in search of fresher sounds. Still, you know that out there somewhere, the singers from Editors and White Lies are furiously and competitively taking notes.
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