Who: The Streets
Where and when: Jazz World stage, Friday, 8.30pm
Dress code: For Mike Skinner, long denim shorts and a baggy white T-shirt. Kinda LA gangsta-chic.
What happened: Skinner and his Streets, a four piece band and accomplice rapper, came to give the festival its Friday night kickstart. To use his precise words: "This is the beginning of your fucking weekend."
Who's watching: It was difficult to tell. There was certainly a big crowd, but it didn't seem to be any one crowd in particular. To judge by the songs that excited them most, the crowd had all, at some point in their lives, enjoyed the odd rave.
High Point: Skinner's badinage. Perhaps he's now as well known for his persona as his music; his hot Twitter chat or crazy crop circle stunts. There's a reason he's well-known for it, though: he's good at it. Tonight he asks the crowd to rate the mud, say hello to the moon and introduce themselves to a stranger.
Low point: Maybe it was the fact this reviewer was standing behind the sound stage, but there was a fair proportion of the set that, musically, sounded a bit anaemic. Weak Become Heroes, for example, just sounded weak.
In a tweet: Top banter and occasional bangers from the bard of the Blair generation, Mike Skinner.
