Latitude 2024 delivers a retro, family-orientated package

There's wooden pirate ships attached to trees, hidden fun fairs, animatronic dinosaurs... Words: Steven Loftin. Photos: Georgina Hurdsfield, Sam McMahon.

It's that time of year again. But going by the Latitude lineup, it could be any year. With a bill stacked on the squiff (as the Suffolk locals would say, the 'huh') from Hollywood stars (Damian Lewis, David Duchovny) to yesteryear sensations (Duran Duran, Keane, Rick Astley) to local heroes (The Darkness), but there's still plenty of bubbling energy on offer that lifts the proceeding weekend at Henham Park.

Following a Thursday celebration of all things Transgressive Records, Waxahatchee does a noble job opening up the Obelisk arena on Friday. With her sullen flavour of alt-country, literally at the drop of a yellow trucker hat (into the crowd), the swing hits wonderfully, taking the rest of the Suffolk afternoon with her.

But it's out in the dark woods where the fun truly begins. The F word is on everybody's lips. No, not that one, it's Fat Dog - and for good reason. Unbridled chaos with confrontational weirdness, the Sunrise stage jolts to life with a declaration of "We're fucking Fat Dog, baby!" The living embodiment of the Super Hans' doom note and running with it, they're deft at getting the wilds of the party started and BBC 6 Music dads jumping like teens again.

Caity Baser is another fresh voice for the Friday afternoon. As sunny as the blistering heat, the newest pop girl goes about achieving her hyperactive dreams out on the Obelisk, unapologetically herself, including a bold Abba cover ("I'm gonna be real I don't know the words so let's see how this goes."), and warts 'n' all songs, it's a whimsical afternoon.

Following on, the likes of The Vaccines - always a fest triumph - and Future Islands are also amongst the evening's entertainment, yet it's hard to argue but wish there was something a little more today than yesteryear.

Saturday comes by with a similar thriving underbelly, none more so than CMAT. The Mercury-nom'd fave commands across the Obelisk stage, strutting and having the time of her life while making sure all the on-lookers do too. While up on the Alcove, Holly McAve blends in perfectly amongst the towering trees, a sumptuous way to ease into the baking day.

It soon becomes a pop-tastic afternoon, starting with Alessi Rose, who punctuates the energy of the afternoon with an adoring crowd crammed into the Sunrise Tent to catch a glimpse of Alessi and her attitude-laden pop-rock before the larger stages beckon.

Jockstrap also bring their bent pop vision to the Second Stage in the evening, with Gaffa Tape Sandy providing the perfect chaser over on the Alcove with London Grammar rounding the evening out on the Obelisk with a nice enough set of their brooding electro bops.

Sunday rumbles to life at early doors, with the stirring lunchtime revellers emerging from their two-day bender greeted by the Big Special decimating the Second Stage before Lottery Winners bring their bubbling persona to the Obelisk.

Quips galore from the excitable vocalist Thom Rylance whipping out Freddie Mercury Live-Aid Impressions ("AYYYYOHHH"), pointing his cross-hairs at the brigade of "deck chair wankers" flanking the rear of the arena, and professing himself to be Rag 'n' Bones Nan (Elton John + Rag 'N' Bone Man).

With their indie bops making a nice yin to Been Stellar's cool 'n' cutting yang on the Second Stage, Latitude thrives in these clashing moments, where you're thrust into two different worlds at the scurry of a sunburned leg.

Local boys The Darkness play their afternoon homecoming to a rapturous audience after a blistering set from Baby Queen, while Ash prove they've lost none of their Brit-grunge touch as the Second Stage erupts for crowd-pleasers like 'Burn Baby Burn' and 'Girl From Mars'.

Between Nile Rogers & Chic and Duran Duran, the closing of the festival is a retro package for the dancers and partiers who could afford to buy two houses in the 90s.

As the evening settles to a close, there's a sense this year's edition feels displaced. With trailing queues to enter the site for revellers plaguing the Saturday and a general lack of lineup thread for the punters to follow, with no specific target demographic nor genre-fandom, maybe the Alice In Wonderland of it all (going down the rabbit hole (or into the hillside woods)) is their new objective, focusing on the little hidden nooks and crannies that offer up a wealth of intrigue and amusement (wooden pirate ships attached to trees, hidden fun fairs, animatronic dinosaurs), but it leaves those out of that loop in the literal dust.

Latitude certainly has its place in the grander festival conversation, especially for local folk, but its headliner draw leaves a lot to be desired if they want to continue being taken seriously in that conversation.

There's a wealth of talent ready for headline status try-outs (see: The 1975 in 2017), and they've nailed being able to draw in the undercard promise. Hopefully, 2025 will bring more to the table.