Well, now that I've insulted someone by forgetting their name or that I spent a gig with them we'll get onto Friday first day proper. Back to the Park for a bit of Japanese thrash in the form of Bo Ningen who seem a little slower than usual but the direction is an excellent one all the same. Not often your first 2 bands at Glastonbury are hard core thrash metal but times they are a changing. Or maybe I'm a little late for that. Sets us up nicely and as the initially interesting but ultimately tedious country of Margo Price is grating we (as in some of we) tootle off into the morass to Williams Green where we meet up with various others and catch a great danceable set by Fujiya and Miyagi and another electro dance set by Dutch Uncles. This tent has a lot of very good stuff this weekend pity it's so small. I think around this time we venture up to the Acoustic Tent which is a tradition and we're treated to traditional irish folkie sounds by Sharon Shannon which a bit like country is a bit meh after a few reels around the fountain. (Editor aka Ramsay: You went to the Acoustic Stage just before Dutch Uncles. I should know as you dragged me along there!) I split from everyone else and head for West Holts where I along with several tens of thousands of others are mesmerised and blown away by the intensity that is Kate Tempest in full flow. At first you could hear a pin drop as Kate gives us a full on spoken word rap captivating her audience like few others can. A long meandering take no prisoners tale of 7 strangers and what their lives are like at 4.18am before they come together outside their neighbouring flats in a storm (Lionmouth Door Knocker) weaves through the set. Magnificent and one of those moments where you wonder if it's this good outside of a field at Glastonbury. (I'm listening to it now on BBC player - jesus she's as intense as I remember - goosebumps and hairs on my neck - if the lyrics weren't so damn hard hitting the music would have you jumping like a clubber which does break out every so often before going back to our story). Pole axed I amble around the Green Fields wondering what it's all about and how we can't help our fellow human sufferers but I stumble into a small tent with a few folk dancing around to an excellent Irish like folk band who get my legs working and yeah, I guess having fun is a way of making life worthwhile and a quick jig around to that well know tale of the devil going down to Georgia sorts me out. Accidentally pick up The Beat at the Glade and as I'm sneaking off see Melvin and Linda so I carry on skanking for a few more tunes. You know what you're getting but it's still damn fine. But I'm on a mission on behalf of Lily-Rose (well, mainly to make her envious to be honest) and I trek over to Sonic to see a surprisingly (well, I was) good set by Dave who's a local Streatham lad. I'd call it Grime rapping but I assume there's a sub genre that I'm not cool enough to know about going on down there. I was old enough to be most of the audience's dad. OK, all the audiences dad. The posse of guys and girls who asked me for a light could have mathematically been my grandkids and whilst I thought about giving them a lecture about the dangers of smoking I didn't think it the time or place, as I ground my dog end into the earth in front of the fire marshall. From there it was back to meet Rams and Jo and Olly and various others up at the Park where we serenaded the woman singer from Puma Rosa (missed her set though) which I think mildly amused here as she chomped on her Lebanese potatoes. As an aside, looking forward to a dish of Leb potatoes rather than red is I guess a sign o the times... Anyways we're up here to support the Sleaford Mods who have attracted a pretty good crowd and they don't fail to deliver against our expectations of foul mouthed politically strident tirades and tales. And the guy who presses the play button at the start of each song. More fun than Radiohead by a long long way. In solidarity with my chums I don't go see Dizzee Rascal but stay to see The Flaming Lips who haven't impressed me before either live or on record. No change here I'm afraid. Pomp rock with too much emphasis on stage props. I wander away past Jarvis Cocker as they are playing Bowie's Starman and the singer rolling over the audience in a big plastic ball. I catch the last couple of songs from a great two girl band at the Rabbit Hole. Drums and guitar with a hard punky edge and I wish I'd come over here half hour ago. I think they are Rews so go check em out again Jim. Joining back up with Rams and Jo we hike up the hill to the Crows Nest and unable to get in to see Lemon Twigs we sit outside until they go off and we have our fill of the magnificent view of the festival and the rain starts. Late enough to amble back home anyhow...
Another excellent night's sleep (shurely that ain't right at Glastonbury?) and a coffee kick start the rain has stopped for the weekend and it's a wonderful Saturday morning. A word on the logistics. I know it's not wet this year but it looks like a lot has been done to counteract any muddiness and the queues for loos, food and generally getting around and so much better than other years. By Sunday afternoon I'm regretting thinking that about the queues but that's more to do with the stupidity of putting on the Killers at John Peel in the middle of Sunday afternoon for a not so secret set. Saturday sees me off to the Other Stage with Mark & Lynda where we meet Malc & Lisa (all these M&Ls) to see British Sea Power who can be a bit iffy but today put on just the sort of rocky jangly slightly academic sound that you need to get you going. A powerful set and much enjoyed. Olly and I go to Williams Green to see a great set by The Big Moon who I've seen before recently (to be honest this year I've not seen that many bands for the first time) and who dish out energetic surfy rock and roll with a strident grrl pwr attitude. The main singer looks very fetching in a silver jump suit and a colander on her head. Obviously the new look. But as Olly says, their second album may be a tricky one. Rams and Jo and Pete and Wendy join us and we hang around (Editor Palmer: some of us went to see Jeremy Corbyn make his coolest-politician-this-century speech whilst some of you couldn't be arsed and caught the-best-band-in-the-world-ever who are the young punky enthusiasm with surprisingly sophisticated musical abilities who go by the name of Rats on Rafts. Thanks for being my memory Rams) for The Thurston Moore Group who send us into the land of Sho Ega Zer except for the interlude when one of the guitarists kept breaking strings. Surely they can afford a 2nd guitar up there? Otherwise a great set despite Thurston not being that chatty and not taking the opportunity to tell us a joke during the enforced interlude. I guess he's not that sort of bloke. Next we stay put but just outside the tent and it gets rammed full for King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard which apparently is a masterclass of Hawkwind punkiness but I can't be arsed to squeeze in and chill outside eating lunch. A trip over to the John Peel Stage and we are treated to an excellently chilled tho danceable trip hop set by DJ Shadow who has fantastic sounds to go with great visuals. Olly's not so enamoured and in his own sweet way demonstrates his dislike of DJ Shadow and of those watching him. Each to his own. Live and let live. Take note Olly. I guess he's just getting in the mood for being a punk rocker as we then meander back east to Shangri La Truth Stage for what is one of this year's highlights. En route I try to cheer up Olly and the gang with cocktails at the Blues where we skank to heavy R&B rhythms but the lure of the dead is too strong... Dead Kennedys give us a full on old school thrash punk mosh til you drop and then get hoisted up and mosh some more repertoire of west coast punk classics. Fantastic. Soz for dragging you in Ramsay, and then immediately falling over bringing you down with me. That's punk rock for you! Not sure Jello was sorely missed as we all had a wonderful time. Tho not Jo's cuppa so she had a nice nap under my furry coat which was quite convenient given I was moshing. Rams Olly and me meander around the other Shangri La stages and clubby venues including watching, or rather hearing, some thrashy heavy metal punk stuff in a converted tube train. Inevitably we lose track of each other and I jig around at various places on my todd, not the only one doing that, until I hit the end of Shangri La and then past the Glade the dance strip and the Blues and home to bed.
First thing Sunday I call home to wish Lily-Rose a happy 15th birthday and to gently tease her by chatting in the tent where Dave played. I think she is impressed with her old dad really. Fairly leisurely start to the day as is right for the Sabbath. Don't work too hard. At first anyway. It's JP stage today and we go see an excellent set by King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard which seems to be less hectic and punkily fast as yesterday maybe as they're in a much bigger tent and they are also in a Lazy Sunday Afternoon mood too. Having said that they're not exactly sluggish. A brilliantly energetic set and for once I can make the Hawkwind connection, which I've been trying to avoid in recent missives, as they play a great rendition of Masters of the Universe and then hit us with another 4 or so full on psyche rock numbers that are straight out of Hassan I Sahba territory. Next Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes but it's far too crowded inside and I'm not convinced that he'll improve on Gallows so once again I eschew the sweaty crowded tent and have a little food whilst topping up my tan in the scorching sun. It's getting more and more crowded here and of course it's cos next up is TBA which is now an open secret at The Killers. Not wanting to listen to another band outside a crowded tent I struggle against the flow through the lovely but packed wood to meet Ramsay at the top of the hill above the Pyramid Stage where I'm just in time to catch the start of Nile Rodgers and the brilliantly disco funk outfit that is Chic. Non stop number one hits from Nile and his band and a perfect Glasto moment with thousands striking disco poses many of us too old to be doing this with any decorum and the rest far too young to really know these sort of moves except as tongue in cheek. All as one yeah for 70s disco with a heavy funk beat let ourselves go with the flow le freak all my sisters with me lost in music let's dance. Good times. Yeah. Every one a hit and don't Nile just let us know that. Rightly so mate! After a dance in the sun in a field we're in dire need of, another dance in the sun in a field so we head to West Holts to dance our socks off with the sun dipping behind us to Moderat who are one of those bands that I'm not overly impressed with on record but on Ramsay's recommendation as being banging live go along with him and Jo and yeah are they banging. German electro dance hitting you between the eyes with big crescendos and drops tugging our strings like puppets. Good call Ramsay. Oh yeah, I forgot the downside of spending time at the main stage with Ramsay and Jo, I was yet again subjected to a thankfully short dose of Biffy Clyro after Chic before we headed off to West Holts. And I didn't even get to subject the pair of them to an ageing bluesman this time. See previous Glastonbury reviews. Probably. Moderat are well dancy and the kids are up for it seemingly with the help of a lot of chemicals. I like that they tell us it's nice to see their audience as it's the first time they've played in daylight. We espy Poppy on the big screen on someone's shoulders and catch up after the set. After this we make the worst mistake of the weekend by struggling past the top of the main stage suffering a bit of Ed Sheeran and then eventually we get to John Peel for a hotly anticipated Metronomy. They seemed to have gone a bit rock whilst retaining a quirkiness but it seemed to grate on me. Bass was great but they didn't gel at all. I leave early wondering whether to have an early night, that's how bad Metronomy were, but once away and walking past Blues I decide to head for the Glade. Along the way I hear a familiar tune which is dubby ska like and pop my head into a venue to see a 10 strong young collective. It's The Fedz who are a dubby hip hop rapping group with a touch of the ska about them. Oh yeah, the song that drew me in was a great version of Teenage Dirtbag. Fedz then entertain the meagre crowd and they are all great musicians and vocalists. (I later find out they're mentored by Dennis Bovell which was no surprise). After their encore I make it to the Glade for a full set by System 7 who are non stop hands in the air pumping hard psyche dance. A great way to end this year's Glastonbury. By this time Ramsay and Jo have turned up too and we see Pete Wendy and Todd for a last few songs and drinks. Much like last year. Pete and Wendy are off to see the newly hand fasted Carl and Sarah (sorry I missed it) but I'm off to bed. Great packing up weather Monday morning and after an hour or so getting out of the car parking we're on the open road. An easy train trip back to London then the underground scattered with Glasto flotsam which must have been confusing for the tourists to see an onslaught of dirty smelly haversack toting bronzed folk with sparkly wristbands no doubt thinking they were a form of monitoring bracelets. A fine festival. Thanks to everyone name checked for making it a classic and especially to my chauffeurs and true festi buddies Ramsay and Jo. Big love. Same time same place in 2 years. 2019, jeez...
Photos. More people have got better ones than me but here's just the one from Jo up at Strummerville which I think we stumbled upon on Thursday or Friday evening. I was enjoying myself honestly!
Photos. More people have got better ones than me but here's just the one from Jo up at Strummerville which I think we stumbled upon on Thursday or Friday evening. I was enjoying myself honestly!
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