The sirens sound and Arctic
Monkeys rock up, flooding Sziget with the sound of ‘Four Out Of Five’. Potentially
playing a sort of satirical jester type caricature of himself, Turner waltzes
around. He sings a lyric about laughing, then mocks the lyric, wearing a
viciously forced smile upon his face. During gothic-pirate-circus-indie-anthem,
‘Pretty Visitors’, the jester sits on the floor like it’s a throne, stomping
his legs alternately to the beat of the war drums. The Sheffield-quartet wooed
the 75,000 worshipers with their punishing yet euphoric rock’n’roll, the only
respite provided by a slice of moon rock. Everything seems heavier tonight.
Everything seems darker. Everything seems more intense tonight. Maybe they were
nervous?
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