Main stage Sunday 3pm

The View are the outliers who burst out of a half-forgotten scheme in 2006 in the underdog of Scottish Cities, Dundee, to blow most of rock’s new contenders clean away.  While contemporary bands have now fallen by the wayside, The View have gone from songwriting and performing strength to strength.

But what will be different about this show?

Kieren: ‘We’ve swapped all the set around. Got a few new songs in it plus we are on the main stage. The new songs – I think they are brilliant.  They went down great in Inverness. We played seven of our new songs and people were going crazy for them like they  already knew them. That was our best gig yet. But I think this set may surpass it.’

The sun is here and with it comes the View. Big winds chase the rain and stale grey across a powder blue sky, clearing old air away to make space for big things. The four piece from Dryburgh, Dundee (actually a five piece now as Reni is in charge of keyboards, harmonies and contributes to the writing) enter the main stage with grins as wide as the sky.

The set opens with  5 Rebeccas – an intense headrush of a song documenting the short shelf-life of Dundonian hedonists. Flags and people on shoulders greet it as the 50,000 strong crowd push the barriers on this sunny Sunday afternoon.

They go straight into the famous riff of Wasted Little Deejays with Pete at the front, lager in the air and Falconer playing his voice like his guitar, drum theatrics and gymnastics provided by Steven Morrison, resurrecting the single which was their key to the charts four years ago. Unfortunately, the strong winds are preventing the big screens being up but their voices are clear even if they can't be seen from the back.
Kieren:  ‘Youse having a good weekend?’

‘Same Jeans’ comes next – the anthem which normally closes the set. But, for the main stage, the benchmark has obviously been raised.

Under the cathedral dome of the sky, the roar of Glass Smash thunders, reaching beyond the racing clouds and riding over the wind. A new arrangement sees Reni’s harmonies over the chorus. The View again display their USP:  turning chaos into elegance.
‘Throw your hats off for the buskers!’ calls Kieren as ‘Streetlights’ starts  followed by ‘The Don with Reni on percussion. Kieren takes on a rearranged ‘Skag Trendy’ which leads onto his call: ‘This next one’s for anyone who’s got a flag, a Scotland flag. Put it up!’
This is for ‘Realisation’ – the new Scottish anthem. The upbeat melody of ‘Double Yellow’ lines and the crowd are now completely lost in the View mentality. The tempo goes down for the bittersweet ‘Face for The Radio’ – as fragile as the snapshot memory of an old school pal. Kyle enters with his brother Ronnie’s Gresch (actually bought by Kyle himself):  ‘No a bad guitar, ay?’
He then announces rather apologetically:
‘We are going to do a few new songs. I ken it’s shite when it happens but it needs to be done.’

Kieren: ‘This one’s called ‘Underneath the Lights’ and it’s a bouncer. You don’t need to know the words – just bounce.’

Which they do. En masse.  But the words are easy to learn and the chorus infectious:
‘Now we’ve kissed, let’s make the most of this….before the night turns sour, let’s make the most of this final hour, sweetheart.’
A piano slides into chords and harmonies. 

‘This is another new one.’
A thundering guitar and drum intro leads into ‘Tragic Magic’ with the audience immediately clapping as though they already know the song:
‘It’s just a case of tragic magic when you can’t remember feeling fantastic.’

Superstar Tradesman then crashes in with band and crowd full throttle, battered barriers and a deafening cheer at the end.

‘Thank you, T in the Park. You’ve been fucking awesome. There’s no place we’d rather be right now than on this stage playing to you lot.’

The roar back is answer enough and the set closes with ‘ Shock Horror’ and nobody has forgotten how to clap their hands.

In previous years, King Tuts Wah Wah tent couldn’t hold them and now, on the main stage, The View have proven the Scottish skies barely can. They leave the crowd with their songs and spirits miles above.