There are two branches of opinion on the ex-shelf stacker-come-beat-mogul's appearance at The Edge festival. The uncompromising nature of what has become ‘brand Harris' tends to bring out a definite ‘marmite reaction' in people. But tonight, for the most part, it sways in his favour.
The show kicks off a little late as Harris's band takes the stage and fills the place with an atmosphere that's all Pink Floyd - minus ambition and a concentration span. Chaotic poly rhythms and a thunderous, electronic blitzkrieg seem to be the elixir of the gods to the kids in flammable jackets who make up the core of Harris's fan base. There's also an opposite reaction from those watching from the stalls - could they be the parents of the revellers down on the floor? Surely not all of them, they just look really glum.
By the end of the first track (a rumbling techno nightmare that escapes identification) there is a sea of bare arms and the place has erupted, making Harris's question "Are you ready to go off?" a tad redundant. He makes numerous similar communications to his mostly adoring audience and pogos around a lot too, this is the main feature of his show in many ways - he's just one of the kids dancing away to his own music.
There're no surprises when it comes to which tracks perform the task of making the audience ‘go off' - the repetitive ode to variety that is The Girls, the laughable, but hypnotically catchy, Acceptable in the Eighties, and the (technically) peerless House are the roof-raisers of the night. And to be fair, despite looking a bit tired and emotional, Harris has a solid ninety percent of the crowd firmly grooving by the end of the show and it begs the question - what were the other ten percent honestly expecting?