Mogwai climax, and Blur steal the show at the end of a mighty three days of music

Another head-to-head battle between King Tut's closers Mogwai, 10 years after the Scottish sonic terrorists donned T-shirts at T in the Park bearing the slogan "Blur: Are Shite", seemingly averted, it's back inside to see the Glaswegians attempt to follow The Pet Shop Boys and close the King Tut's bill for another year.

Swathed in blue light, and seemingly devoid of emotion, they start the task with the epic, sprawling 'Glasgow Mega-Snake', taken from their monsterous recent album 'The Hawk Is Howling'.

The true highlight arrives four songs in as the ethereal early strains of 'Mogwai Fear Satan' from 1997's Young Team are joined by crashing cymbals, razor-sharp snare and waves and waves of ear-splitting, digital delay and feedback. Wordless it may be, but the insistent riff which underpins the song, the delicate, yet explosive dynamics and the meandering journey through to its giant climax is as emotive a performance as anything that's followed it during the weekend. If only they looked like they are enjoying themselves as much as they sound like it.

Exiting the tent for the final time into the cool night air, the sounds of Blur's 'Tender' power across from the Main Stage and it's clear they've averted disaster by the narrowest of margins, eventually taking to the stage, with Coxon safely in tow, some 90 minutes after their scheduled start time and are well into their stride as Mogwai's crowd drift away.

Naturally, given the circumstances, they've had to cut their set short, but they still put on a dazzling greatest hits show, with 'Tender' being given a lengthy, extended working through.

The descending bassline and brassy horns of 'Country House' spark another massive singalong from a crowd and band realising they've been given a chance for a joyous finale to the festival they thought they'd lost.

Damon Albarn seems to be particularly aware of that fact, tearing through 'Parklife' and taking vocal duties for the whole song in the absence of occasional special guest Phil Daniels, who filled in the cheeky narrative of the verse at Glastonbury. Albarn's face contorts into a determined snarl, he runs on the spot and arguably the band's best known song is ripped out in double-quick time, strengthened still further by rasping trumpets and piano.

Perhaps it's taken the near cancellation to focus minds but the band seem more energised, determined and on edge than during their more bloated, polished Glastonbury set. Coxon slowly unwinds the punky guitar chords of 'Song Two' before the band, dump the clutch, slip down a gear and attack it with fury, seemingly unperturbed by any existing curfew that they may be breaking gleefully through.

The contemplative 'This Is A Low', one of their most accomplished songs, is simply beautiful, Albarn guiding it through the sorrowful Shipping Forecast-borrowing verse before another massive chorus is unleashed and Coxon puts his digestive problems to one side for the brilliant, sprawling solo.

The dreamy "la la las" of 'For Tomorrow' spread like wildfire through the audience, as Blur show their wit, intelligence and considerable experience in lifting the crowd to heights not managed by either of the previous two nights' headliners.

It's left to their traditonal set closer 'The Universal' to really power things to the next level and it's hugely celebratory, the repeated eternally optimistic chorus line of "It really, really, really could happen" never seeming more fitting and poignant than tonight. Once kings of Brit pop, indie's great chameleons and reinventors, appearing to revel in their recent reunion, Blur are triumphant against all the odds and they steal the show at the death of an almighty three days of music.

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