Review: Leeds Festival 2022, day three

After forty-eight hours of predominantly glorious sunshine, there is a marginal reversion to form at Leeds Festival on its climactic day, both in the air and on the stage.

Clouds are scattered across from nearby York and Wetherby, the distant drizzle of rain tickles the A64 and atop the bill comes the return of the guitar band, a day after they were all in action at sister site Reading.

But there’s still something a little bit magic to behold on this closing night; a full-blown regional homecoming double bill as two rock heavyweights swing in as the vanguard of a South Yorkshire invasion as frequently thrilling as it is emphatically euphoric for the several thousand gathered on a hill in the former West Riding.

That local flavour rises to the fore straight out of the gate with The Sherlocks, the first of several six-string-toting acts who come close to ensuring a full double-main-stage lockout for R+L’s historic bread-and-butter genre. The Bolton upon Dearne natives prove an agreeably astute harbinger of things to come for the early midday crowd, and their one-two pull with fellow northerners The Lathums commands an increasingly impressive audience, with the latter’s frontman Alex Moore resplendent with white suit, Wigan accent and big-wattage anthems that could be custom-tooled for Sunday afternoon singalongs like these.

In-between, indie-poppers Dayglow proves a surprisingly popular pick, bolstered by a smart segue through a cover of Tears for Fears’ Everybody Wants to Rule the World into their own Run the World!!!, while rising alternative star De’Wayne brings a bristling energy to his short slot. Both are somewhat overshadowed by the oddity of Poppy; once an anonymous internet creation with bubblegum in her veins, now an industrial nu-metal disciple, she incites a succession of increasingly haphazard circle pits while her band sport domino cat masks.

Dropped in at short notice to replace Jack Harlow, following his abscondment to the MTV VMAs, rapper AJ Tracey is frankly a clear-cut improvement from festival bookers, the Brixton-born grime star bringing a fine flow to proceedings. His fluidity is at sharp odds with Irish post-punk racket favourites Fontaines D.C., whose popularly belligerent performance lacks the spit-and-polish shine now honed by fellow indie stalwarts Wolf Alice, who continue to chip away at festival bills with their dreamy spin on grunge loud-quite dynamics and the command of frontwoman Ellie Rowsell.

The eyebrow-raising outlier on a day squarely leaning on guitar chops, D-Block Europe nevertheless prove popular with a crowd mostly starved for hip-hop interplay. Still, they are particularly odd bedfellows squeezed onto a stage after Enter Shikari’s rabble-rouser of a set, with the St Albans outfit railing against both major water companies and the Conservative government while finding time for a blitzkrieg guest spot from electro-rockers Wargasm.

Jointly atop the bill for the first time, Bring Me the Horizon’s ascent to major festival headliner status is a worthy recognition of their growth through the heavier rock scene. It was seven years ago the ex-metalcore outfit cemented their crossover into the mainstream with a slot beneath Metallica at this very festival; now, their pop-sheen arena tunes possess sing-along hooks the size of skyscrapers, complete with cheery titles like Die4U and Drown. They project the sense they have been playing these lofty spots all their lives; a cameo from Doncaster’s own Yungblud, to rifle through their collaborative hit Obey, goes down as a barnstorming highlight in yet another successful coronation for the weekend.

They pass the baton for a White Rose finale then to Arctic Monkeys, topping the bill at Bramham Park for a third time. As Sheffield’s most famous export this side of The Full Monty, it is an overdue return for arguably Britain’s biggest rock band. Though a new album is in the pipeline, they studiously stick mostly to the hits, leaning lightly on divisive last record Tranquility Base Hotel + Casino in favour of desert-stomp grooves and the odd wiry indie dancefloor throwback.

There’s still something a little bit Vegas lounge crooner to Alex Turner’s stage persona these days, but hunky, hulking slabs like Do I Wanna Know? and R U Mine? ensure it is still a copper-bottomed closing party. Sometimes, then, the old ways are still the best.