Rocker (feedbot)
Gold Member
The breakfast queues are grim. People stand around like extras from a zombie flick, clinging to their coffees as if they’re the only thing keeping them upright. But there’s a strange camaraderie to it too; we all know we look rough, we’re all exhausted, and we’re all pretending this is just part of the festival experience.
Wench! open the day on the BBC Introducing Stage and instantly cut through the fog. Their brand of punk is sharp, scrappy and completely unpolished in the best way possible. Kit Bligh commands attention from behind the kit, spitting vocals while hammering the drums, and the band tear through songs with furious precision. By the end, they slam the door shut on their set with a barked “you just got WENCHED!” and the crowd leaves grinning, wide awake at last.
On the Main Stage, Waterparks have no interest in easing people in gently. “Stupid for You” hits and suddenly the field feels alive again. Bright hooks and playful energy ripples across the crowd, with Awsten Knight cracking jokes between songs that keep everyone on side. They switch gears with heavier cuts like “Turbulent” proving they can bring muscle as well as melody. By the time “Lowkey as Hell” arrives, whole groups are jumping, shouting and squeezing every last drop of energy out of their weekend.
Sea Girls bring a shift in tone but not in momentum. Their anthemic indie rock feels tailor-made for a festival field, and the singalongs start almost immediately. “All I Want To Hear You Say” pushes people from swaying into proper movement, while “Call Me Out” sparks pits that are chaotic but good-natured. When “Do You Really Wanna Know?” rolls out, strangers are shouting the chorus shoulder to shoulder like lifelong friends. It’s a reminder of how good this band are at connecting with big audiences.
Then comes the full-throttle chaos of Amyl and the Sniffers. Amy Taylor storms the stage like she owns it, snarling her way through “Tiny Bikini” and whipping the crowd into action. The pit explodes, dust rising as bodies crash into each other, and suddenly an inflatable kangaroo is surfing across the crowd like it belongs there. Taylor never stays still, pacing and snarling, her voice cutting through the distortion with absolute conviction. When she spits “fuck Trump” and “fuck JK Rowling”, the response is a wall of noise, equal parts cheer and primal release, and the band only push harder from there.
What follows is pure festival carnage. “Some Mutts (Can’t Be Muzzled)” sends the crowd into a frenzy of sweat and smiles, while “Hertz” proves they can write hooks that stick as much as riffs that bruise. “Guided by Angels” turns into a mass chant, strangers shouting it at the sky together like their lives depend on it. By the time “Security” slams the door shut on the set, the band are drained, the crowd is wrecked, and it feels like everyone has been part of something wild, cathartic and unforgettable.
As the day closes and Reading 2025 winds down, the familiar festival melancholy creeps in. Everyone’s aching, sunburnt, and wrecked, but buzzing all the same. From Wench!’s punk wake-up call to Amyl’s closing chaos, Sunday proves that even the final day can be unforgettable. The trudge back to camp is slow, but it’s with a grin, because nothing about normal life comes close. Same time next year.
Words: Kathryn Edwards // Photos: Abbi Draper-Scott
Wench!
Wench! open the day on the BBC Introducing Stage and instantly cut through the fog. Their brand of punk is sharp, scrappy and completely unpolished in the best way possible. Kit Bligh commands attention from behind the kit, spitting vocals while hammering the drums, and the band tear through songs with furious precision. By the end, they slam the door shut on their set with a barked “you just got WENCHED!” and the crowd leaves grinning, wide awake at last.
Waterparks
On the Main Stage, Waterparks have no interest in easing people in gently. “Stupid for You” hits and suddenly the field feels alive again. Bright hooks and playful energy ripples across the crowd, with Awsten Knight cracking jokes between songs that keep everyone on side. They switch gears with heavier cuts like “Turbulent” proving they can bring muscle as well as melody. By the time “Lowkey as Hell” arrives, whole groups are jumping, shouting and squeezing every last drop of energy out of their weekend.
Sea Girls
Sea Girls bring a shift in tone but not in momentum. Their anthemic indie rock feels tailor-made for a festival field, and the singalongs start almost immediately. “All I Want To Hear You Say” pushes people from swaying into proper movement, while “Call Me Out” sparks pits that are chaotic but good-natured. When “Do You Really Wanna Know?” rolls out, strangers are shouting the chorus shoulder to shoulder like lifelong friends. It’s a reminder of how good this band are at connecting with big audiences.
Amyl and the Sniffers
Then comes the full-throttle chaos of Amyl and the Sniffers. Amy Taylor storms the stage like she owns it, snarling her way through “Tiny Bikini” and whipping the crowd into action. The pit explodes, dust rising as bodies crash into each other, and suddenly an inflatable kangaroo is surfing across the crowd like it belongs there. Taylor never stays still, pacing and snarling, her voice cutting through the distortion with absolute conviction. When she spits “fuck Trump” and “fuck JK Rowling”, the response is a wall of noise, equal parts cheer and primal release, and the band only push harder from there.
What follows is pure festival carnage. “Some Mutts (Can’t Be Muzzled)” sends the crowd into a frenzy of sweat and smiles, while “Hertz” proves they can write hooks that stick as much as riffs that bruise. “Guided by Angels” turns into a mass chant, strangers shouting it at the sky together like their lives depend on it. By the time “Security” slams the door shut on the set, the band are drained, the crowd is wrecked, and it feels like everyone has been part of something wild, cathartic and unforgettable.
As the day closes and Reading 2025 winds down, the familiar festival melancholy creeps in. Everyone’s aching, sunburnt, and wrecked, but buzzing all the same. From Wench!’s punk wake-up call to Amyl’s closing chaos, Sunday proves that even the final day can be unforgettable. The trudge back to camp is slow, but it’s with a grin, because nothing about normal life comes close. Same time next year.