Saturday: Jamiroquai

We dance music lovers live a strange existence rarely reflected upon. Domestically, we live to a few subconsciously conceived unwritten rules to enhance our party experience. One of the rules I have enforced over the years is never to arrive at a club night too early. Naturally, this rule is subject to change depending on when the night is expected to finish, but my philosophy has always been that there's nothing more demoralising than leaving a night undesirably early due to tiredness, which effects us all at some point. The rules become inconveniently scrambled during festivals like Exit however, where the programming is not like a nightclub's, and the gig-mentality prevails over the rave. So we are presented with a bit of a problem as Exit has an arena dedicated to dance music, but many other stages showcasing music not designed for the early hours.

We fell victim to this problem on Saturday night, when the last four days of constant beer consumption, scorching heat and cobbled, uphill walks in unsuitable footwear around Novi Sad had become inevitably punishing. With nothing (and we mean NOTHING) to combat our diminished energy reserves and faced by another 40 minute journey to the fortress, the treasures of the Serbian dawn in the Dance Arena for the first time appeared realistically beyond what we could physically manage. Unfortunately, this meant DJ Sneak, Matthias Tanzmann, Martin Buttrich and David Squillace would all be sacrificed in a desperate and necessary attempt to hasten our recovery in time for the final night's spoils.

All was not lost though as we did join the many thousands who gathered to see Jamiroquai on the Main Stage. Jay Kay, crowned by that famous hat, rolled back the years with a scintillating array of the band's greatest tracks. It was an enormously nostalgic experience for me as at the age of around ten, 'A Funk Odyssey' may have been the first CD I had ever bought. Indeed it was only after I became aware of Jamiroquai's appearance at Exit this year that I dug out that CD from one of the many dusty vaults of forgotten music in my house and gave it a listen to for the first time for what I estimate was about a decade, possibly more. Many musical fads come and go, some embarrassing, but Jamiroquai has somehow managed to salvage my genuine affection all these years on. It's pop music, but when pop music used to be good. Groovy, funky, catchy, and utterly adorable, and at the time the perfect tonic after three nights of bass-driven, sun-soaked dissipation.