The late summer sun bathed Stanford Hall in gold as festival-goers wandered the grounds, the hum of distant stages blending with laughter and chatter. It was here, amid the vibrant energy of the festival, that I caught up with Sykamore, whose warmth and approachability are as inviting as the storytelling in her music.

If Friday at Reading Festival was about finding your feet, Saturday was about losing them. The sun had its claws in early—factor 50 was gone before noon, hats and sunglasses swapped around like currency. The site buzzed with that second-day mix of exhaustion and momentum: sore voices shouting louder than they should, hangovers beaten back by adrenaline, and the knowledge that today’s bill wasn’t going to let up. Reading in daylight is one thing. Reading on a Saturday is something else entirely.

Reading Festival doesn’t creep in, it descends. By Friday morning the site was already a sprawl of tents, flags and bleary eyes, the air carrying equal parts burnt coffee, mud and anticipation. The first day always feels like a reset: thousands of people shaking off the motorway, testing their voices, queuing for the first overpriced pint with the giddiness of kids at a fair. The promise is simple—three days where every stage might give you your new favourite band or a story you’ll tell until next year.

Texas-born indie-folk artist Chance Peña has released his sophomore album When I Change My Mind I Don’t Mean It, out now via Columbia Records. The 14-track collection finds Peña leaning further into the poetic storytelling and emotive vocal style that has made him one of the most compelling young voices in modern folk.