T in the Park 2013: Saturday, 13 July

Dundee band Seams have sensibly brought a large number of fans from their home town, who fill the front two rows of the T Break tent and make a lot of noise – exactly what's needed if you've been booked to play the extra-early midday slot. But even if they had brought no one but themselves, they still would have made a lasting impression on anyone hearing them for the first time. Vocalist Katie Lynch appears almost bashful on stage at times, but her voice is a thing of wonder, and works well over some glacially-cool guitar lines – making it almost impossible to avoid comparisons with Liz Fraser and the Cocteau Twins. A promising T debut. [CM]

Midday on the Saturday is a tough gig. Your audience is likely to be suffering – or still drunk. Swim Deep are met with cautious applause as they do their best to get things going. “Good to see so many of you,” says frontman Austin Williams through his wild fringe, and kicks off in earnest. If anything their indie surfer rock suits this sun-roasted noontime, but onlookers seem initially unconvinced. It’s not a bad turnout all things considered, though, and their cover of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun wins the crowd over; soon even the crustiest early risers start dancing. [GS]

"Are you ready to throw your lives in the gutter and throw them back out again?" asks Phillip Taylor of PAWS. The answer is, of course, yes; otherwise it's unlikely any of the assembled punters would have chosen to spend their Saturday lunchtime in a large marquee at T in the Park watching the finest three-piece punk band to hail from Glasgow, by way of Tain. They have a new man on bass guitar, but the same spirit and energy that was captured so well on their debut album Cokefloat! last year. PAWS use their set to try out a few new songs, including a blackly humorous tale of being stood up in Dalston. It's a fine set, but one that feels more like a band preparing for its next step. [CM]

In the dark and smoky bowels of the Transmissions tent stalks Lizzy Plapinger, backed by Max Hershenow on synth, as the potent pair MS MR. The lady is full of cheeky attitude, and her voice – a hearty, resonant growl – lends the punchy, sombre melodies some bite. The mix of danceable hits and darker tunes keeps the set engaging, and Lizzy’s gushy gratitude is miles from artificial: “You’re so fucking up for it. I love you Scotland!” They close with the triumphant Hurricane, and the jiving crowd are reluctant to leave long after the lights go up. [GS]

Fake Major face a serious problem with their set – the kind that no one performing in a new bands tent wants. Their sound must compete The Fratellis, who are playing on the main stage less than 200 yards from the T Break tent. Happilly, most of the enthusiastic crowd seem able to blank out the booming pub rock bollocks and concentrate on the impressive set from this new band, who only formed at the turn of the year as a vehicle for former Endor songwriters David McGinty and Richard Ferguson. There's a quiet maturity and depth to their songs, which builds to sometimes surprising conclusions. [CM]

Despite somewhat low attendance and blazing sun turning the tent into a sauna, Roman Nose ply their gothic, industrial, bruising electro with gusto, masked up and dancing wildly as they play on synth, drum pads and keys. It's impressive, with large doses of John Carpenter in tracks like Satan Pump, and a feral, intense energy in their pounding drums. Occasionally veering into Guetta-style electro-house, they could be accused of style over substance, but there is sufficient depth and energy to their performance to warrant further investigation. Undeniably, they rock like bastards. [BG]

London electronic maven Maya Jane Coles delivers a set of minimal, progressive house and techno, providing the perfect follow-up and antidote to the tougher sounds of DJ Sneak and co., who go before. She provides a smooth and involving mix, building loops gradually with a percussive, tribal backbeat. Some deep house cuts with aching, soulful vocals leaven the mixture even more, resulting in one of the most diverse and interesting sets of the weekend, recalling at times her sprawling but excellent 2012 DJ Kicks mix. [BG]

With riffs-galore, radio-friendly choruses and a boisterous stage presence, Palma Violets seem custom made to play a late afternoon set in the cavernous King Tut's tent. But despite enjoying a reputation as one of the most hyped new bands of the year, the crowd barely reaches the mixing desk. Not that the Violets seem bothered in any way. From the first note of Rattlesnake Highway to when they walk off stage 45 minutes later, the four-piece move at a frantic pace, with frontmen Samuel Fryer and Chilli Jesson clearly enjoying the moment. They could be playing to six people or six thousand, it wouldn't matter, the performance levels would unlikely drop. Best of Friends gets the biggest cheer of the day, but the set takes an undoubted dip as the band's relative unfamiliarity sets in among the crowd. [CM]

Either people are flagging by this point in the hot and dusty afternoon, or the summery, folksy tunes of Villagers beg a sit-down with a pint; either way, much of the Irish indie quintent’s audience (which is hardly small) is reclining in the sun. But the music (falling somewhere between Travis, Counting Crows and Dave Matthews Band) is no less rollicking, and frontman Conor O’Brien still gives it his all on the Radio 1 stage. His voice has that easy narrative gravitas perfect for an outdoor gig in the sun, and listeners – sitting or otherwise – can’t resist tapping toes or clapping along. [GS]

Coming from Detroit, bearded wonder Claude Von Stroke has a large set of musical shoes to fill, and he does so with aplomb. Trading in the kind of tech house that is so beloved by the Slam faithful, he peppers his percussive, infectious set with just a hint of disco-edged deep house, invoking some jacking, shape-throwing dance moves from the crowd down the front. It is less of a sweltering inferno inside the Slam Tent today, and Von Stroke's laid back, driving beats are the perfect soundtrack for the relatively early risers. He pushes the tempo closer and closer to techno, before dropping a low-slung breaks track to cries of 'Bass!' [BG]

Little Elena is such a timid presence on stage, you might easily forget the vast, sweeping soundscapes Daughter are capable of painting. The Transmissions Stage is resplendent this afternoon with these icy, multi-hued brush-strokes, complemented adeptly with flowing smoke and pulsing lights. The crowd is largely static, but in awe; this is a poignant breather amidst an otherwise frantic festival. Choice tracks from If You Leave (Human, Youth) are met with whoops and cheers, and Elena is candidly, adorably appreciative. Home, from EP The Wild Youth, is a particularly epic performance; Remi Aguilella’s relentless tub-thumping is a thing of wonder. [GS]

Discopolis trade in the kind of pulsing, indie-kid oriented electro-pop that has made bands like Bastille into main stage-slaying pop idols, and it doesn't seem like that level of interest is too far out of reach for the Edinburgh four-piece. Lead singer Fergus Cook writes yearning indie rock fare, very much in the Coldplay vein, but his bandmates elevate this material with extended electro and disco-influenced instrumental workouts. The double-punch of feel-good electronics and soul-searching balladry is a clear hit with the crowd. Their music is a little safe, a little polished, but that won't do them any harm. Cook's gorgeous falsetto on Falling (Committed to Sparkle Motion) soars impressively. [BG]

Snoop Dogg has two generations of fans. Those who remember him as the slick-rhyming, weed-obsessed gangsta pimp of Doggystyle and The Chronic get short shrift – Snoop drops a verse of a few selected classics, and then abandons them mid-song. Then there are those fans who remember him for his collabs with T-Pain, Wiz Khalifa and Miley Cyrus. They sing along gleefully to disposable crap like Ashtrays and Heartbreaks. Snoop's cod-reggae nods to Jah and Bob Marley seem equally incongruous and insincere. Always a caricature to some degree, it's still disappointing to see him embracing his role as a marijuana-toting, pimp-cliché spouting, pseudo-Rastafarian clown. [BG]

"We've been waiting for this for a really long fucking time," announces Frightened Rabbit mainman Scott Hutchison. You can tell he means it. This is not a typical throwaway remark from a jaded touring band doing the rounds of the festival circuit. Ten years after they started out in Selkirk, and after several summers spent climbing their way up the bill through the tents here, Frightened Rabbit are playing one of T's outdoor stages for the first time – and they don't disappoint what is a partisan and noisy crowd. Just when you wonder if the band's more pastoral moments might not translate well on a sizable outdoor stage, several hundred voices are found to add mass backing vocals. With a splash of impressive showbiz timing, Hutchison announces the final song will be Keep Yourself Warm – its first live performance this year. It seals what has clearly been an enjoyable set for both band and audience alike. [CM]

Without question, Slam always deliver at T in the Park – after all, this is their manor. Tough, propulsive techno is used to build an ever-ascending wall of techno sound, each new cut taking the crowd higher. It's deep and involving, taking in some classic cuts from the duo's long back catalogue, and featuring some of the most impressive visuals of the weekend. The Slam Tent itself, front wall and stage all constructed from video screens, feels like the perfect place to see Slam, with a booming but crystal clear sound system, a camera on their hands as they mix, displaying their long-honed skills, and a mish-mash of images taking in Thai dancers, DNA nuclei and long, strobing tunnels of light. [BG]

When British Sea Power guitarist Noble dons a pair of over-sized swimming goggles and dives into the crowd in the manner of a Victorian channel swimmer, it's a suitably unexpected set conclusion from a band who have never lost their ability to surprise. When an over-sized, flag waving polar bear – a regular sight at recent BSP gigs – makes a mid-set appearance it goes down a storm. Festival crowds can grow dazed watching one guitar group after another, so small novelties – even those in eight foot bear suits – are eagerly lapped up. But what really makes BSP stand out from the festival crowd is their elegant, warming songs such as new album opener Machineries of Joy or instrumental gem The Great Skua. In addition, BSP can call upon crowd-pleasing tunes such as No Lucifer, with it's shout-along wrestling refrain. It's a well-judged and entertaining set from a band still eager to please. [CM]

Richie Hawtin closes out the Slam Tent on Saturday with a set of pounding techno featuring some of the long, snaking, acid-drenched drum lines and stroboscopic synths which are his signature. Making full use of the house lights, he leads the packed crowd on a techno oddyssey which is at once definitively cerebral and challenging and packed with moments of unfettered rhythmic minimalism. It's an object lesson in hard techno, and is greeted with utter delirium by the now increasingly intoxicated crowd. Most impressively, Hawtin avoids gloomy industrial brutalism, despite upping the tempo to almost frightening intensity. It's a dark set, but always textured, full of glimpses of light. [BG]

“This one’s for Snoop,” says keyboardist Gus Unger-Hamilton, before Alt-J (∆) bust out their Soundcloud-famous Dr. Dre/Snoop Dogg & Kylie Minogue mash-up Slow Dre, a fitting tribute given the corn-rowed rapper’s presence at T this year. The Cambridge boys are back for their second Balado visit; has much changed? They’ve rocketed up from a lunchtime slot in 2012 to headlining King Tut’s this year, and the crowd reflects that; hoardes of fans are here, and every offering from An Awesome Wave triggers euphoric screams from the heaving masses. Unfortunately, their set remains largely unchanged (bar a couple of new pieces) from last year, and while being calmly immobile on stage might seem cocksure and confident, there is neither the energy you’d want from a headliner nor the variety of an established act. It’s a good crop of tunes, and revellers are going bonkers, but Joe Newman and his pals need to recognise their billing. [GS]

If you expected a band like My Bloody Valentine could pack out any tent – even one as modest as the Transmissions Stage – at any festival, you would be wrong. Kevin Shields' group might have pulled off one of the more unexpected and hugely well-received musical reunions of recent years, but it appears that cuts no mustard with the Saturday T crowd, who have voted en masse to spend their evening elsewhere. There's barely 300 souls to see MBV's headline set, but those that have shown the foresight to turn up are rewarded with a suitably impressive performance, even if it is cut short to meet strict stage times. There are shouts of 'Louder!' between songs, but they are silenced by the face-shredding volume of When You Sleep and a brutal rendition of Only Shallow. The only real disappointment is that You Made Me Realise is cut to less than a third of its usual length when performed live, but it still prompts the small crowd to finally break loose and throw themselves around in abandon. Shields, not a man known for showing emotion on stage, even cracks a smile when the band depart. [CM]