Carling Weekend Main Stage: Reading (Sat) Leeds (Sun)

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If Young Heart Attack are not massive AC/DC fans I will eat my hat, and it's a big old hat too - that's how sure I am of this. But for one of the first bands of the day, it's perfect. Like The Datsuns of years passed, it's another chance to hear exciting, frenzied
music that you'd never go out of your way to see and you don't have to think about. Dance, idiot, dance!

Razorlight look and feel like they're being over-sold. Yeah, 'Up All Night' was a top five album but only because it was sold at a budget price. And despite the athletic presence of Johnny Borrell; all pouts and preening gestures there's something a little vacuous about the whole thing. Songs like 'Rip It Up' clearly do rock harder than Metallica in a tent, but let's face it, there's none of the same sex/magic/drama that accompanied the likes of early-Suede or Oasis now is there? But don't feel sorry for them, feel sorry for the "girl called Kate", who Borrell dedicates the angry 'Leave Me Alone' to. 

He should have dedicated it to the New York Dolls though. Quite how the veteran   purveyors of something-or-other inspired anyone to do anything beyond putting tar in their ears is really beyond us. Morrissey may suck their cocks, but then that in itself should tell you something. They look like a haggard, geriatric Rolling Stones cover band where your dad is the singer and your mum the groupie being roasted by all of them. Be embarrassed, be very embarrassed.

The Roots, on the other hand, present the day with a rare and most welcome dose of class. Easily the best bunch of musicians here, they transcend their 'musos for hire tag' and doll out some pretty amazing hip-hop tunes, dosed up from their classic 2002 LP 'Phrenology' and new LP, 'The Tipping Point'. Live, they are one of the finest live funk acts in the world and, while mainstream musos like the Chilis will tortute the casual fan with endless wankery, The Roots don't need to. Their rhymes are sharp, their intensity never wavers. After a good decade on the slog, the Philadelphians could be about to garner the success they so richly deserve.

Franz Ferdinand certainly know their roots don't they, dressed as they are in free Dior Homme garb. They've clearly slogged it out a long time for their success too, it's such a long way from the dusty soiled Oxfam rags of yesteryear's Carling tent performance. 'We wear them the same way', pleads Alex Kapranos. 'Bollocks', say us. There's something distinctly Paul Draper (Mansun singer) about his eyes, and for every jilty rhythm you've got to be pretty miserable if Franz Ferdinand can't get you to your feet. New songs like 'This Boy' are instantly forgettable - as is a lot of the filler, but as NME-rock goes it's a damn site better than The Datsuns, isn't it?