A BAND who have ascended the festival ladder in ginger, uncertain steps, Foals now find themselves at the BBC Radio 1 stage beneath bleached blue skies and fading sunlight; they’re not quite big enough to close a T In The Park stage yet, but they’re getting there.
Since debut album Antidotes, a punchy affair that rode the post-punk revival with a zesty take on the “angular indie” that was so commonplace a few years ago, the band have subtly amplified their sound for a slightly broader audience without making any drastic alterations.
My Number’s hooky, carousel-spun riffs were typical of Foals’ jumpy set of songs, but there were plenty of reflective moments too. Spanish Sahara stretches the band’s tightly-knitted melodies into twinkling, drip-drop notes that the crowd are happy to soak in. They seemed similarly content to allow frontman Yannis Philippakis his quixotic exertions as he dedicated various songs to cosmonauts, hard-up students, and atavistic urges amid a charmingly haphazard foray into the crowd. Three albums deep, they remain a wee bit tatty around the edges - long may that continue.