T in the Park

T in the Park. Balado, Perthshire

James Smart. The Guardian

It doesn't rain over the weekend - although it often threatens to. The sun peeks sporadically from the dark clouds, and the wind occasionally rises, bringing the delightful scent of the nearby chicken farm to the disused air base that T in the Park calls home. Combined with the withdrawal of Saturday night headliner David Bowie, the omens do not look good.

Still, while it often feels more like a lager promotion than a music festival - Tennent's signs are everywhere - T in the Park has grown strong enough to take a few body blows. Saturday sees the Libertines battle on without troubled guitarist Pete Doherty, Basement Jaxx bring on a catsuited Siouxsie Sioux and a host of party grooves, and the Darkness attempt to rebrand themselves as the new Queen - with some degree of success.

Sunday's highlights shine more brightly, local heroes Franz Ferdinand packing their early set with angular grooves and real passion and the Killers providing some edgily anthemic thrills. Sons and Daughters are even more impressive; the Glasgow boy/girl four piece formed in 2001, and debut album Love the Cup (re-released this week) is a compelling, otherworldly mix of driving new wave and scuzzy blues with an edge like a hacksaw. Live, vocalist Adele Bethel shakes, dervish-like, while Scott Paterson plays his guitar in simple, sharp movements. Ailidh Lennon's scratchy mandolin gives their urgent sound subtlety and spark.

Headliners the Strokes are unfortunate enough to follow an utterly joyous set from the reformed Pixies. Singer Julian Casablancas is spectacularly drunk, which doesn't help. "This song . . . Ah, who cares what this song is called - I hope you fucking like it," he says, before spinning on his heel and knocking over his mic stand. An unscheduled cover of the Clash's Clampdown is entertaining, and Last Night floats on the thin evening air, but a finer note of farewell was struck by Orbital, who ended their career in a bulging King Tut's Tent with an intoxicating synthesised whirl and a brief but resonant hug. The crowds will be back, even if they won't