Sending Foals on before Thirty Seconds to Mars and Steve Aoki is a bit like making it to the final four of the World Cup and then shooting yourself in the leg. There is of course absolutely no sense and logic in the existence of the latter two acts: neither of them play music, nor do they put on a particularly good show. Balloons, confetti and maidens doused in whipped cream don't count.
Foals on the other hand were one of the rather few legitimate festival bands on VOLT's bill this year. They showed up apparently somewhat grumpy over a lukewarm Norwegian appearance and were duly sent out into the late afternoon furnace of Sopron, which on Thursday exhibited positively Saharan traits: hot as hell during the day, teeth chatter inducing cold during the night. Or the temperature simply adjusted to the quality of the concerts on the main stage, for Foals were an absolutely wondrous 7 PM act. It all went downhill from then on, but that was not their fault. They just set the bar too high. Simply because they can.
Some connoisseurs promptly moaned about their early songs being played at a slower pace than the original and of course there was no Cassius (but the aforementioned moaners already knew that). Yet the brilliant fact is that even at a slower pace the songs worked, the audience clicked and their set seemed over in no time, as only really good ones do. The idea of a possible club concert in Hungary immediately arose- yes please. More of those. More Foals. More bands that can play. No Jared. Ever. Again.
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