After watching the coverage of the Reading/Leeds Carling Weekend on the BBC at the weekend, it struck me that Auntie's coverage was hitting new lows. For the most part, the choice of band to watch was uninspired. Sticking to only those with big records out (or the NME's soup de jour) and the headliners, rarely giving the smaller, more interesting bands a chance. However, that was the least of my worries. The bands weren't even a blip on the radar when compared with the dismal presenting.

The biggest culprit of the shambolic shows was Edith Bowman. Meandering in thought, often looking far too... err... I'll say tired to avoid legal action... to ever really do a decent job and completely free of any kind of charisma. So, maybe we should look to the back up presenters? Well, Colin Murray didn't help by virtue of the fact that he is the second smuggest man on TV. First place? Zane Lowe, also presenting. Bizarrely, we were left with the ridiculous Rufus Hound, complete with drab waistcoat, daft moustache (no son, you look nothing like Billy Childish... you look more like the product of an orgy between Kaiser Chiefs and a walrus), trying to hold everything together.

Although I didn't like most of the bands shown on the programme, I've never let a thing like that get in the way. In a way, it's nice to catch up on the world of pop (because by and large, we are shown pop, not rock) because admittedly, it's a pool that hasn't seen my toe in a while. However, it's hard to take a programme showcasing the latest smash hitters seriously when you have a bunch of self serving know-nothings talking amongst themselves in the name of entertainment in between. In fact, it's downright offensive to my TV licence.

Edith Bowman and Zane Lowe both suffer from the same thing. They are so desperate to appear credible that they talk about rubbish bands in hushed tones... almost like we're in the presence of some new (false) God... like we're lucky to touch the hem of the garment of the faceless drones of Razorlight or Maximo Park.

Of course, festival programming has always been patchy. That's part of the charm isn't it? Well, if you look at the fact that once, you would have had John Peel, clearly under the influence of too much red wine slagging off some piss-weak indie band, before positively gurgling with delight at the thought of seeing some footage of, say, Orbital or Spiritualized, then you start to get the picture.

It would seem the BBC have lost the people who genuinely love music (the likes of John Peel, Johnny Walker and Andy Kershaw) in favour of those who wear their music like a fashionable bag. It's no coincidence that Top of the Pops died when Fearne Cotton took the reigns. So it should be no coincidence that, in a couple of years time, when people wake up and smell the coffee, the audience will be turning off in their droves at the thought of seeing Edith Bowman and Colin Murray slapping each other on the back again.

[Image:Rosie Greenway/Getty]

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