Ten Years Of ATP: Day 2 Review

After surrendering ourselves as captives of ATPstonbury on Day 1, Day 2 starts to put us more at ease with our perception of ATP as a bigger and brusquer beast. In the earlier hours at least, the event starts to seem small and snuggly once more, though we are still astounded by how many people are up and about for the first acts of the day.

Filling the second stage with relative early risers, Papa M's highly anticipated performance of 1999's “Live from a Shark Cage” album slinks in with soulful sophistication and a wounded tenacity worthy of empathizing with first act fuzzy-headedness. Getting us happily on our feet again, Afrirampo's escapist spazz-pop hullabaloo blitzes us with contagious love for ATP, and our sullen clouds start to clear for neon-streaked skies! Starting to feel more at home with the buzzy energy of the masses, we vie for a good view of Dirty Three and settle for just feeling the general goodwill from the sidelines as high-kicks, balloons, and spittle soar through the air during the most cantankerously feel-good hit of the winter.

A quick duck into Ricky Powell's World Famous Slideshow proves that we're about as terribly out of touch with his world as he is with ours (“I thought you guys were into ska.”). No matter, we're going to own our middle class past and yeah, we're gonna get psyched about seeing our teenage years heroes Modest Mouse for the first time! A long linger into Modest Mouse's valiant if flu-beleaguered set proves that we're too old, too sober, or too sentimental for the crowd. It breaks our heart, just for a moment.  No matter, we're going to forget that was the way we saw Modest Mouse for the first time!

Catching the tail end of The Breeders set, all emotionally stricken notions dissipate when we see the ever-lovable Deal twins wheel out for ATP's organisers a massive birthday cake - in the shape of the Butlins pavilion. It's an unbeatable spectacle. And of course, they share it with the audience. In another instance of an epic crowd fail, a seemingly sweet girl hands out the remainder of her slice of cake one moment and a racist comment the next. We choke on both; they taste of icing sugar laced with ignorance. In an instance of a crowd win, another woman sympathizes by calling the first girl a prick. Appreciated. But onwards!

Snatching up friends as we go, we skitter manically through Apse, the Snooker tables, a Nordic chalet cabin, ATP TV, a sweet popcorn distributing contest, The For Carnation, a warm-up crab fight, Declan Allen's DJ set, and on into a famine-fatigued 5AM breakfast-cooking session. Ah, ATP - we laughed, we cried, we sheepishly stifled our sniveling and got on with it to have one of the most epic nights of our lives. ATPstonbury is dead. Long live ATP.

10 Years Of ATP In Photos: