The sun once again glares off the glass monolith and once again the smell of fried food sets my once again hung over stomach turning. In Makuhari, even during rock festivals, the days repeat themselves.

Nevertheless, today is different. Subtly so but different nevertheless. The baggy shorts and oversized wallet chains are now hanging from Sum 41 t-shirts and the sun has actually managed to get hotter. The post-alcohol sweat is setting in early just in time for Tim DeLaughter to burst onto stage, grinning from ear to ear and yell "Suuuuuuuuuun!". The Polyphonic Spree (Outdoor Stage) are the only band of the festival to make me cry, the joy and beauty of the music they make is overwhelming in my current state and if their lyrical content is somewhat limited ("I love the sun!" cries Tim unnecessarily at one stage) that only adds to their power. Highlight of the day.

Rooney (Indoor Stage) at their best are a pleasant amalgam of the more mediocre moments of 70s/80s power pop legends Joe Jackson, The Jags and The Knack but they're not at their best for most of the time. So let's just call them The Crap Strokes and forget about them.

Raising the temperature a little are The Rapture (Indoor Stage) who almost live up to their Disco Strokes tag and seem to be losing their dubious Siouxie And The Banshees influenced past but there's still something missing. The problem is most evident on songs like "Killing", efficient and insistent like early Teardrop Explodes but hanging together surprisingly poorly for songs with such simple basic components. New album title track "Echoes" manages the trick as does the impressive "Sister Saviour". There's more and better to come.

A brief trip to the bar reveals a woman in a plastic cowboy costume and a man with a shiny shell-suit and wraparound shades squeaking out some kind of 2 Unlimited style Europop on The Performance Stage. In thirty years time when we all live on Mars this is how we will look and sound.

Meanwhile, still thirty years in the past are the inexplicably popular New Swedish Strokes, Mando Diao (Indoor Stage). There's chaos at the gates with the arena already crowded and just as many people waiting to get in. I have the nagging feeling that something strange is going on but nothing quite prepares me for the Beatlemania that erupts when they walk onstage. What could it be about these five excellently dressed, incredibly handsome, melodically inclined young northern European gentlemen that so excites these people? They perform their rock moves with practiced ease like five less sweaty, more polite Jon Spencers and they work the audience the way a potter works clay but they bring nothing to the table that anyone bothers to take with them.

Next up and playing to roughly one tenth of the previous audience are Interpol (Indoor Stage). Also immaculately dressed but unfortunately much less Scandinavian, The Depressing Strokes have songs where Mando Diao had photocopies of songs. Cryptic titles such as "NYC", "PDA" and "Obstacle 1" give way to towering, chiming melodies delivered with just the right mixture of passion and restraint. There's nothing much here to dance to and there's the nagging feeling that we could just as easily be at home listening to the CD but then at least "Leif Erikson" sounds a bit Swedish.

Rumours of restricted access at the Outdoor Stage drags me away before The Mars Volta (Indoor Stage) can begin playing but for the record one of my Japanese friends who saw them says they sounded like Queen.

The Stereophonics (Outdoor Stage) are utterly vile, they will go to Hell and burn for eternity for not only making this ugly chugging tuneless real ale rock sludge but then imposing it us like this. If, as Shakespeare once said, music be the food of love then this is the steaming, fly-encrusted shit.

Deep breath. Alcohol. Food. Alcohol. Feeling better. The Strokes (Outdoor Stage), The Old Strokes, sure, but also The New Strokes. They've grown since they last played Japan, Julian Casablancas is still a dickhead but that's his job and he's good at it. His constant bowing to the audience highlights the fact that he's looking more like Karate Kid Ralph Macchio by the second but it also highlights the Strokes' newfound recognition of their audience's existence. The new songs, especially the fearsome "Reptilia" bode well for the forthcoming album and Julian's a cappella Japanese language rendition of "My Way" goes down a treat. Like Blur's Damon Albarn last night, he has a combative relationship with his equipment and also like Damon, he finishes up somewhere in the audience. He's lucky to escape with his trousers.

Last night, while complaining about the length of the mic cord, Damon Albarn suggested that it be fixed by Sunday Night "because I heard that Thom likes to get down there". Like Blur, Radiohead (Outdoor Stage) have been accused of pissing on their audience over the last few albums but while Thom Yorke doesn't quite stoop to crowdsurfing he has an easy relationship with his audience and Damon's jibe seems a tad unfair. Nevertheless, while the crowd goes mental at the slightest whiff of anything from "The Bends" or "OK Computer" they merely tolerate the more recent material. It's not that the new songs aren't interesting, they are, but they're also uninvolving. Fortunately this is a festival set and they seem happy to roll out the occasional hit. "Bones" still sounds like Simple Minds but when Johnny Greenwood goes crazy in "Just" it feels like the sky is splitting open. "I quite like this song" introduces closer "Creep" which would have felt like an insult if it hadn't been delivered with such charm. The fireworks are there again but this time they kick in just a little late, perhaps reflecting the slightly jarring state of Radiohead at this moment in their career. Where they go from here is anyone's guess but Clear And Refreshing are placing bets on a solo album in the near future. -Ian Martin, Sep.30.03