Reviewing this subjectively, for twenty bob in London you would be foolish to expect a Royal Garden Party however, as a first time attendee I had hoped for more to the affair than what I was met with on first impressions. Overall there was little to entertain yourself with when moseying around, and the lack of atmosphere didn’t help. Despite the persistent sunshine, there were gloomy moods afoot.

To the music though, any festivals saving grace. First up an unusual introduction provided by Invasion, a band whom until 2.40pm on the 24th of July I hadn’t heard of, but their psychedelic, metal undertones were set well by the female singers penetrating vocals. Any front woman dressed from head to toe in what was seemingly Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen’s version of a Freemasons gown gets marks for sheer balls.

From here on in we set up camp by the main stage and the next act to appear from the depths of the mystical realms of the VIP section were S.C.U.M. They were well dressed and with great stage presence the singer Thomas Cohen had both girls and boys weak at the knees. Other than his salacious movement though I couldn’t help but feel a little empty and eventually contemplating whether or not he had a vagina. The highlight of this Placebo permeated band was the fact the drummer Melissa Rigby appears to be the love child of an American Apparel model and a Scandinavian goddess.

Next to follow were the Dum Dum Girls who at last reassured us that everything was going to be okay and set the tone beautifully for what would turn into a pleasant evening. How to describe the Dum Dum Girls? Intricately dreamy and effortlessly cool. Melodies and shiny hair, if it hadn’t have been for the technically poor sound problems haunting the main stage the Dum Dum Girls would have been as equally pleasing on the ears as they were on the eyes.

Wavves followed shortly with an enjoyable set with their naughties upbeat answer to The Violent, enjoyable to say the least. As with most things (done properly) in life the best has been saved till last, Damian Abraham (also known as Pink Eyes) of Fucked Up spent almost the entirety of their set in the crowd and for a day thus far filled with pretension and theatrics there is finally a show played with conviction. I leave the main stage with my face covered in Abraham’s blood a true sign of his encompassing inclusion in his live set as things get a little heavy in the crowd.

Overall though 1234 proves disappointing, the areas in which it could and should excel are tarnished by an inconsistency in sound quality (did I mention These New Puritans didn’t even get to play their set) and lack of organisation.For me it was an over commercially endorsed fashion show that’s saving grace was sunshine, lets hope for better things next year.