Latitude 2009

Nestled among a fairylight-clad woodland lies several green neon signs sporting hippy ideals; “truth”, “love” and “harmony”. Pink, green and purple sheep graze in the adjacent open fields, seemingly content with their newfound look. A glittering light display dapples across a wooden bridge, next to which gondolas glide; transporting Pimms and pear cider-fuelled punters. The shafts of watery colour shift from kaleidoscope montages to the BBC logo – bringing a sudden clanging realisation that this wonderful countryside retreat is shared with 25,000 of our nearest and dearest; Guardian and NME readers must (temporarily) unite, for this is Latitude.

The Suffolk-based egalitarian fest has garnered a – not wholly undeserved – reputation as a “middle-class” event. If that means a humanist music festival (sorry, no, its strap line is “it’s not just a music festival”) that features poetry, theatre, comedy, literature and cabaret as well as an all-encompassing line-up that spans the Britten Sinfonia to Thom Yorke, where goers aren’t required to be entirely inebriated to enjoy bohemian proceedings, then yes, it might just be that. You’ll still get greasy burgers in addition to falafel, still witness the snorting of questionable powders off of a driving license, still pay above and beyond a reasonable price for a pint, in places. But you’ll also hear intimate poetry readings, beautiful orchestral sets and impromptu acoustic jams.

The headliners – Pet Shop Boys, Grace Jones and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – I’d venture to say, were not the crowd-pullers. Watching a 61-year-old woman shaking her naked bootie isn’t everyone’s definition of a hot Saturday night and this weekend was no exception. Instead, campers found solace in Emmy the Great, the XX, Fever Ray and Bat For Lashes. They jigged and jived to Of Montreal, swayed and sang to Regina Spektor’s haunting set, reminisced and recuperated with St Etienne.

Non-musical highlights included serotonin-inducing stints in the comedy tent from comedians Miles Jupp, Jon Richardson and Tom Stade, the latter of whom was a welcome follow-up to US comic Jessica Delfino’s 20-minute tirade about her, ahem, lady bits. Elsewhere, Orkestra del Sol’s rousing performance in the cabaret area was outstanding, as was Chas and (a stand-in) Dave’s unruly knees-up in Music and Film Arena during the wee hours of Sunday morning.