Reading Festival

In the cavernous second stage tent Friday's starters Frankie and the Heart Strings burn brightly with energetic Brit-soul before things cool down for the lukewarm Surfer Blood and ice-cold New Young Pony Club.

After a tepid Girls set it's left to Two Door Cinema Club to fire things up with some quick-stepping Indie Dance. The deft What You Know and shimmering Something Good Can Work feel like ambitious statements of intent.

One hour late we are treated to the sight of the waddling sack of sausage meat that is Axl Rose.

This only delays what appears to be my dad doing Guns 'N' Roses karaoke in a silver jacket to a backing band of Guitar Hero rejects.

The Lamé bratwurst has to disappear every other song to have his voice box reattached so when it starts to rain it as if god is crying tears of pity for us.

Four albums in The Futureheads have created a perfect festival set of spiky crowd-pleasers to start Saturday. The cheerleading fun of the Heartbeat Song twists and turns with pop pep while their revisionist take on Hounds of Love has become totemic of the art-pop revival.

The Mystery Jets are sludgy until they unleash the dance floor-ready After Dark for a late rescue of an otherwise unremarkable appearance.

Modest Mouse look like five homeless people but unfortunately lack the charisma. It's an unimpressive effort rarely rising above the adequate.

All hail Darwin Deez, savours of showmanship. As well as knocking out twitchy little Casio ditties they litter their set with dance routines. Yes, a gimmick, but an entertaining one nonetheless.

Newly reformed, in every sense, The Libertines drop hits as easily as Betjeman would bombs upon nearby Slough. Time For Heroes, Can't Stand Me Now and Boys In Bands have developed from ramshackle snapshots into generation-defining anthems.

More importantly the chemistry is still there between the likely lads that the business nearly broke.

Arcade Fire are no doubt excellent and will headline Glastonbury next year, but nothing, not even two hours of earth-swallowing orchestral alt-rock, will outshadow the "bromance" drama of the Libertines.

Sunday wakes to the Wild Beasts evoking the spirit of Kate Bush, as eccentric as they are excellent.

More simple pleasures are to be found at the BBC introducing stage where Bristol's Wilder lay their claim to be the "next big things" with tight indie rock and tighter jeans.

Youthful energy and well-honed songs reflect a group with potential if not yet their own sense of style.

Both The Drums and Kele have a handful of great tunes but both performances lack punch. In comparison the Foals work hard to sell their sprawling maths rock.

Their frantic energy and frenetic tunes elevate them above the ordinariness of their contemporaries.

The Klaxons perform like they are having angry sex - they'll enjoy it but don't expect them to smile. Aggressively revising their biggest tunes into spiteful little spitballs of menace they blend well into their tough-talking new album.

The beast of Berkshire has naturally selected the very best through its challenging environment and those who prospered will dominate next summer season.

Now it's time for Reading to slumber until next year when it can continue its role at the top of festival food chain.