This year’s GLASTONBURY starts at Staines Station. Inauspicious and not in homage to Hard Fi (who I miss this weekend) but to pick up my Carshare travelling buddies Toby and Joy. Relieved that they are chatty and friendly we head off with Toby directing from the back seat and Joy having to point out I should follow the big blue signs if I want to get on the motorway. Uneventful journey largely due to Toby guiding me along the right tracks and where to do U turns then we park up pretty close to the site. Trudge through the mud (yes it’s been raining of course) and meet with the Glastonbury stalwarts Ramsay & Jo who suffer me for the next 3 days (so references to “us” are us 3). Farewell’s to my new friends and pitch at the scene of last year’s England capitulation in South Africa. Ease ourselves into the festival wandering around Greeny Brown fields, Park and thru to Arcadia and the late night festivities area. Jig about, discuss merits of sitting in cleaning sheds with random best new friends and generally do the Glasto wandering stumbling chatting rubbish thing.
Friday morning up bright and breezy. Head off to see METRONOMY at the main stage who rise to the occasion turning out a cracking set and getting us all fired up. Last time saw them with Ramsay and Jo (and my much missed this weekend Debbie) in small club in Wakefield with a few hundred in the audience – this time must have been at least 10 thousand. Wander to Other Stage to see THE NAKED AND FAMOUS who I don’t know but very impressed with the energy and get the feet moving. Nicely setting us up for THE VACCINES who really impress. With fast songs posturing crowd banter and every song under 3 minutes the wannabee royalty were a highlight of the weekend. Punk rock survives at Glastonbury. Venture further east to West Holts via a Leftfield distraction (does that all make cartalogical sense?) to catch a slightly damp GHOST POET who impresses with dancy dubby blippy smooth rich vocals grooving – a great performance considering the size of the crowd (small) and the rain. Saw before with Metronomy in that Wakefield pub. Go see!
So here’s the deal – Ramsay and Jo endure BB KING – that legend of the blues who was rockin an a rollin when Keith Richards was still in nappies. Great set with seriously sound backing band tho the great man does seem a little tired which ain’t surprising. When he hit the strings you were transported to a Mississippi road house jive joint – just wish I’d seen him before I was born. After a lesson in bluesmanship, showmanship and heavy soul brass playing my pact with the Yorkshire devils is to endure BIFFY CLYRO. After the the understated brilliance of BB KING the hairy grebos bare chested tattooed tight trousered 70’s rock posturing was slightly comical and after BBK I did wonder what the last 60 years had added to R&R. The kids loved it tho. [OK – so Ramsay and Jo did appreciate the ageing legend and I couldn’t help but head bang to the snotty nosed upstarts who to give them their due cranked out a great show].
Friday evening is traditional drinking fussing and a fighting so bucking the trend we desert the Pyramid yobs and head up to the tranquil Park Stage for the secret guests RADIOHEAD – the man Yorke seems to be a secret guest every bloody year! Having said that they put on a great show and not being an avid fan I realise how many good tunes they’ve done over the years. Nicely leads us into CARIBOU who are tight enough but not that memorable (or maybe it’s my memory) then pop into the Rabbit Warren to catch the great OH LAND. Danish 3 piece with surely-soon-to-be-famous singer who captivated with both her voice and banter with the crowd. Decide to forego U2 and Fat Boy Slim and stay at the Park for headliners CRYSTAL CASTLES. Great choice as who would want to see U2 who last put out a decent record in the early 80’s and have too many deja vu moments when seeing the boy Norman at Glastonbury. The Crystals (or is it the Castles?) put on a great set only slightly marred by the vocals cutting out for a long period – that seems like a problem as it’s a knob twiddler and vocals but the former kept my feet moving. Before during and after all this we mooch around the Park area sampling wares and chatting to strangers. Boring weather report is that it’s drizzled all effing day and it’s amazing that we’re all so upbeat. We brave the very muddy and slipperly slope to the Crows Nest – the bar above the Park. Surely harder going than Kilimanjaro? I say bar but only offering herbal teas (and herbal is not a euphemism) or instant coffee we decline to buy. Only a handful of people up here but bump into Julia so chat with her and friends before sliding back into the Park area and then meandering slowing back home with the usual distractions of merry folk, dance tents and such like.
Saturday wake fairly early in damp tent (inside) due to heavy perspiration and wet clothes next to me. Weather looks good though! Crawl out and make tea for us all. Not working tho - thinking not sure if will survive the weekend. After lounging around chatting to neighbours I make a lonely path to the John Peel stage but get distracted whilst schlepping through the thick thick mud (the sort that tears your soul apart – see previous entries) and stagger toward an unholy racket surging out of the BBC Introducing tent. Four spotty teenagers having the time of their lives pounding out punk reminiscent of early 80s Punks Not Dead bands – like clean faced Anti Nowhere League without the bad language but with grittier vocals. Honest! The Vaccines bested for pure punk energy by... PIRATE VIDEO COMPANY. Continue on my way for YUCK at JP… great laid back (after PVC) indie stoner rock sleaze reminding Ramsay of early Sonic Youth and who am I to disagree with the Rock ‘n’ Roll bean counter? After a jangly start to the day I now know that vitamin drink plus marmite (salt) plus good time punky tunes plus very warm lager equals unstoppable. Fired up we head for Dance Village to see Indie. Hmm. Meet up with Mark and Linda from Leeds. BROTHER seem to be a sort of last 20 years of indie cover band which grated at first but then I let the renowned Glastonbury Love take over and settled for them being a very competent rock band. I’ve seen much worse. Next the very hotly anticipated PULLED APART BY HORSES who disappointed in that they are new metal band but entertaining (if you call seeing the lead singer puke on stage entertainment) and interesting development in the mosh pit with lots on pre head banging dancing around in a circle going on. Too sophisticated for my taste. Sun out now in force so decide to not go anywhere and lounge about until PATRICK WOLF come one. Having seen a few weeks ago at Get Loaded wanted to see again and they didn’t disappoint. Great songs, great band, plays the crowd wandering out into it to sing and generally we all have a good time which is what all this music mallarky boils down to surely? Good man Patrick – we love you!
Early evening and what is a Saturday night for if not for a quite night out for a meal and genteel conversation. This plan starts well enough when we climb to the peak that is the Crows Next and see a fairly disappointing Metronomy acoustic set (that’s probably my problem rather than theirs) and catch up with my new Carshare friends (Toby and Joy are probably worrying at this point that I am a weirdo who only makes friends by giving people lifts – don’t worry I will not stalk you both!!) Pleasant chats but we’re all a bit jaded I think and so drift down into the Park area and I catch the tail end of Tame Impala who sound good. So the special guests are due on and for the 2nd night running the bookies favourites appear. PULP blast the place. Brilliant music, Jarvis chatting worth the ticket price alone and taking us all back to our spotty youths singing about finding love at the weekend – or at least a quick shag. Ironically we were entwined with a group of spotty youths who could’ve been our sons and so the mayhem continued beyond Common People until Jo wrestled one of them to the ground and the oldies were 1 submission up in points. Wandered off to meet Jo’s cousin plus husband and 2 year old who caused the most amusement of the weekend by pulling off my nose and newly grown beard. Hours of fun! But then they had to leave and so was forced to attend to the music again. JAMES BLAKE who I was apprehensive about (as I am anyone who manages to keep the name James) but him and his band played an awesome set just the ticket for the night. Soulful singing, heavy electronics and heavier dub rhythms hitting us hard. Beautiful. A short slide down to the Other Stage to catch CHEMICAL BROTHERS who are putting on an amazing video show. Missing Mark and Claire at this point as am sure they would have loved it – Missing In Action (OK, Missing After Action as baby due later in the year). A fair way back but the sound still great. The pumping out of those Block Rockin' Beats all got a bit much for us and falling into each others arms we decide to take the old railway track back home. CB sound just as impressive for the 1st 20 minutes (we weren’t exactly jogging) and then descend into the Dance area. Reminding each other that to enter a dance trance tent would be fatal we pushed onward only stopping for one to jump toilet queue to have a 20 minute sit down and for one to spend 10 minutes at a Legal Highs booth trying to get a bottle of Glastonbury Water with both protagonists equally unable to understand each other before our nameless crew member realises that the Real Glasto Water booth is in fact next door. By this time the other 2 were struggling to not collapse in the mud with laughter. All this punk metal indie britpop dubstep big beats and unintelligible conversations took it’s toll and we find haven from the sticky mud back at our tents. Never was sleep so sweet. Apart from those bloody kids chatting and laughing all night. I’m writing to Eavis to complain…
Sunday. Sunny! Roasting Hot!! A day of dance to look forward to and the mud’s been trodden into a hardened state so we can all wear our Docs with bouncing soles instead of bopping in wellies or Italian Paratroop Boots. Heavenly! Early afternoon date with THE JOY FORMIDABLE who were neither joyful or formidable but what is from Mold. Heavy rock never got to Pilton – you lot need to go further north to Donnington. Having not put my bouncing soles to good use and feeling slightly grumpy we head off for EGYPTIAN HIP HOP. They fumble around for ages trying to plug things in and re-de-tune their guitars whilst the stage manager whinges at them to get going like he’s talking to his wayward teenage son. They all look pretty wasted and not sure what’s going on. The stage manager gets his mate to moan at them as well. Seemingly still tuning up they slide into a very laid back number that gradually pulls out from being a sound check and into grindy improvised Sunday afternoon at a festival head nodding foot moving wow this sounds great and this is how it should be. I loved them but not sure who else did. Certainly not the mixing desk guy who continually got messages from each of the band in turn to up their monitors. It was shambolic and brilliant. At one point the singer pointed out that “we’re hanging by a thread – and I hope it lasts”. I’m sure they could’ve lasted a lot longer but their set was shortened. Just as they were warming up and had blasted us with something straight out of proto stoner psychaedelia they were finished. This was the true Spirit of 71 – pity they were on a stage who had loads to get through. Bowie was 5 hours late in the 70s! Joy later told me she thought they were a load of geeky students who probably never left their rooms or spoke to girls. Guess need to see them again when I’m not in a Glastonbury love it all mood and the band don’t look like they spent the previous 2 days with Nik Turner.
Next up is DANS LE SAC VS SCROOBIUS PIP who usually put on a head turning show charging through and juggling your emotions but here Scroob’s lyrics were drowned out by the music. Not sure if cos the long bearded one was drinking water instead of the usual red wine or if the short bearded one (beard, not height tho there again…) is in charge of the volume mixer? Maybe they should do a set half of rap lyrics the other banging dance beats. Anyways the set was good enough and guess if you didn’t know how good the lyrics are would’ve seemed like just a rap electronic band. Wandering eastwards we dance around to the east coast tunes of TV ON THE RADIO who don’t astound but good as a stop off towards THE GO! TEAM putting on a jump in the air and dance with a stranger show showing they’ve lost none of their energy. I love the cross over indie rap tub thumping beats shouty school playground skipping game singing. This is what sunny Sunday afternoons are for and great to get us up and away for the evening. KAISER CHIEFS put in a fabulous performance – won’t go on about it cos sure there’s loads of footage but just to say Rickie has rock star qualities in spades. Fired up for dancing I go see KOOL AND THE GANG at West Holts scene of so much funking last year. Great start with Jacko’s Don’t Stop and hyped up the crowd but then sort of fizzled out into bog standard disco and soul – the wrong side of the 70’s disco tracks. In need of a bit of oomph I decide that QOTSA are the nearest and catch their last couple of numbers. Finding Ramsay and Jo again I have a crazy hot Jamaican meal then we head for the Glade area bopping along at various tents including STEREO MCs who take us back not quite to the Spirit of 71 but to the 90’s. So meander back to bed via various Dance village offerings after a day that surely tested our DMs.
Waking to the birds sensing they were about to retake Pilton farm I bid farewell to my chums as they head off then I wander into the main drag searching for real coffee, water and breakfast. Everyone contented, smiley and chatty then strike camp and to the car where Toby and Joy are lounging in the grass. Top directions from Toby as we crawl thru traffic til on open road past Westbury White Horse to Avebury where we stop off to marvel at the stones and moat then hike over to and up Silbury Hill Europe’s biggest prehistoric man made structure. Uneventful drive down the M4 and drop the guys off in Hammersmith leaving me for a contemplative rush hour journey back to my hearth a bath and long slumber on a mattress. No Glasto next year (toilets being used by the bloody Olympics!) so next time will be 2013 and my 50th. First came when a teenager and a lot of effluence has flowed under the open pit toilets since then. God Save Glastonbury!
