Going by the mounds of dust now settled in the bottom of my lungs, you’d be forgiven for thinking that I’d spent the weekend trawling my jaw along the floor of Burning Man like a hungry Roomba. Alas, I have not trekked across the Nevadan alkali flats for some communal basket weaving. Instead, I took the Central Line and walked through the Bethnal Green council flats to one of London’s biggest music festivals: All Points East (APE).
Split across two weekends, APE’s lineup offered an eclectic mix of genres, darting between indie, R&B and dance music as the headline show demanded. I was lucky enough to secure tickets to the festival’s second weekend, with headliners Barry Can’t Swim, Raye, and The Maccabees.
22/08/25 – Barry Can’t Swim
I was least excited for this day, to be perfectly honest. I didn’t know Barry Can’t Swim past the odd recognisable tune, and I don’t have enough knowledge of electronic or dance music to have the proper language to describe or review it – but I’ll try my best.
Although the day was doomed to start slow, what with the festival starting two hours before most people finished work, Myd made a valiant effort to open the CUPRA North Arena. Donning a yellow jacket with reflective strips, like Ali G on scaffolding, the French DJ brought a party-starting show that lured in the early birds and got them whooping. Austrian DJ salute did much the same on the main stage, their retro visuals and high-energy set setting the standard for the day.
There was some variety to the day, beyond Wiz The Mc singing ‘Teenage Dirtbag’. On the Amex Unsigned Stage, Stefan Mahendra’s catalogue of soulful R&B cut through the electronic buzz of the bigger stages to deliver a slick, sumptuous sound to the masses. With his band of buttoned-down shirts, unreleased songs like ‘Too Late’ and ‘Come Home’ proved popular with the crowd, and while he would have been suited better for the Saturday lineup, I can’t complain about the mid-afternoon palate cleanse.
Shygirl’s main stage appearance, although not as striking as her Glastonbury set, was still a smoky, raunchy strut-fest, replete with burlesque-esque dancers and pink as far as the stage screens stretched. Confidence Man raised the decibel levels with their brand of playful electropop, but the quirkiness of their performance (light-up bra from the ‘High Voltage’ music video) and visuals (pigeons and floating heads, like the 21 Jump Street trip scene) couldn’t be matched by some of their songs. Their music doesn’t feel edgy enough yet to justify the Fegan Floop stage antics; hopefully, they will release more songs in the vein of ‘Gossip’ – tight, punchy, and unique with a concept that entangles lyrics and beats into something worthy of that big spiky worm on stage.
Orbital did not have this issue. With their iconic head-mounted torches scanning the crowd, their minimalist stage presence only underlined the power of their set. ‘Satan’ boomed a relentless barrage of drums from the West Stage, and ‘Halcyon’ swam through the air, interspersed with samples of Bon Jovi, Belinda Carlisle and Spice Girls. Confidence Man, whom I hope will take note that style is not everything, joined the Hartnoll brothers on stage for the final track; this was not as big a surprise as when the house lights were turned on to reveal Phil Hartnoll’s handlebar moustache.
By the time I had completed the West-East Stage pilgrimage, Barry Can’t Swim (whose real name is Joshua, shockingly) was in full joyous swing. His music is a persistent outburst of happiness, whether it be the gospel extolling of ‘Woman’ or the Latina hip-shaking of ‘Kimbara’, the good times only amplified by his use of a live band – including a string section. When ‘How It Feels’ kicked in, I could only feel embarrassed that I hadn’t sought out this music sooner.
23/08/25 – Raye
The second day of APE’s second weekend was closer to my preferred music, replete with mostly female R&B or pop artists (the exception that I saw being Mackenzie Mackey, a James Arthur/Professor Green hybrid). The early afternoon sets were either fierce pop-rock (Alemeda or Chloe Qisha, the latter of whom seemed a bit too indebted to Olivia Rodrigo) or consisted of slower tracks, like Ava Joe’s sauntering blues or Sistra’s Ariana-inspired dream pop.
Saturday was definitely the day of the Keen sisters. If you don’t know, singers Amma and Absolutely are Raye’s siblings, both very early in their careers (it was Amma’s second ever performance – nepotism!). But it’s hard to be frustrated at their apparent head start in the industry, as they are both incredibly talented vocalists and, as their sets proved, have the potential to become singular songwriters too. Absolutely’s operatic choruses are, well, absolutely potent, and Amma, with a very Evangelistic lyrical theme throughout her work, offers a similarly bombastic vocal talent to carry her songs of breakup and angst. So yes, even though nepotism usually leaves a sour taste in my mouth, I can’t help but admire what is clearly a very talented household, though it is always a shame that someone more talented may be stuck playing in pubs for the time being just because their sister wasn’t a chart-topper.
The day’s big names didn’t disappoint, with the choreography being a highlight. JADE’s set included a fun medley of Little Mix classics to offset her newer, fiercer solo work and FKA twigs closed the West Stage with performance art that was as fascinating as it was sonically impactful. I can’t say much about Tyla, as I missed her set, trapped as I was in a conversation about grey aliens with a stoned cellar manager.
Raye, the reason that most people had bought their ticket (making Saturday APE’s biggest ever day), was phenomenal. Surrounded by booming brass, Raye’s confidence as a performer has grown even since Glastonbury this year, her commandeering presence and voice urging on the swells and rises of her band, lifting songs like ‘Escapism’ and ‘Prada’ from club classics to generational tracks. As well as sowing the seeds of excitement for her upcoming single, ‘Where Is My Husband?’, Raye proved that she is one of Britain’s brightest stars.
24/08/25 – The Maccabees
I bought tickets to this show about six months before I had even thought of starting Argus Far, so obviously this was my kind of festival day – ‘indie carnival’, as CMAT called it. Before those indie darlings graced the stage, festivalgoers were treated to a slew of smaller artists.
TTSSFU brought her angsty shoegaze to open the CUPRA North Arena, leaving a palpable impression by storming into the crowd during ‘Studio 54’ and leaving the stage by ripping her wig off and screaming. The band Sorry took to the East Stage with a fascinating mix of twisted guitar riffs and intimate, breathy vocals to create a sinister, brooding atmosphere, while The Juice, sounding like a cross between The Strokes and The Maccabees, lifted spirits in the Amex Unsigned tent. Man/Woman/Chainsaw were another exciting find, natural storytellers who blend art rock with wry lyricism to create a wall of sound, inspired by Black Country, New Road, who also put in a stellar performance that day.
Now, we get to the guaranteed floor-fillers. The Cribs had the most hectic set of the weekend, with crowd-surfing and moshing to all of their indie classics; even ‘Be Safe’, their grunge-riddled, Lee Ranaldo-monologuing set-closer kept the stage security on their toes. CMAT has become a staple of the UK festival season, and her two-stepping country pop setlist enamoured the crowds of APE, with some audience members even bringing their own CMAT dolls to the gig (which she gathered together and made kiss, like a maniacal child). Warmduscher’s set might have even pipped The Cribs in terms of pure chaos, turning the X Stage into a cyclone of bodies with their gritty riffs and thumping rhythm section. Lead singer Clams Baker Jr. entered the ring, and returned with a bloody forehead of his own making.
As we grooved to the East Stage after Warmduscher, catching the end of ‘Always Like This’ echoing through the dust, I had one question: should The Maccabees be headliners? They have half-a-million monthly listeners on Spotify, but a lot of those come for just one song (‘Toothpaste Kisses’, maybe ‘Pelican’ too), and Bombay Bicycle Club and CMAT have double and triple that number, respectively. Okay, so it must the draw of the reunion that puts them at the top of the billing, that it’s their ‘first performance since 2017’; although, we now know they meant ‘first performance since 2017, except a European tour, a Glastonbury set, and a UK tour this year’. I suppose the organisers may have worried about how many would have bought tickets if they didn’t think it was their only chance to see The Maccabees this year.
It’s a shame that the headline show is tinged by this false promise, because it was a cracking set. Aside from the two technical hiccups that can’t be blamed on the band, it was a blistering, boisterous series of everything indie: stinging guitars, bizarre lyrics, and a Jamie T guest appearance. Their singalongs kept the crowd from chuntering to one another instead of focusing on the stage, but their evolution as a band from Colour It In to their last album was made evident during this set, the latter having an urgency and desperation that outstrips the former’s riffs through more clever turns of phrase and a keener eye for melody. And a bit of brass too – it can’t be beaten!
Though I may have become more dust than man, I can’t say I regret the weekend; rather, it might be one of the most diverse, and stellar, weekends of music in the country (affordable too, if you live in London). Let’s hope they learn from the more viral issues of this year without losing their risk-taking lineups.
Argus Far 
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