GLASTONBURY, GLASTONBURY. WHERE 'ART THOU GONE MY BELOVED GLASTONBURY? TURNED INTO ROTTING RASPBERRY, LAST WEEKS RANCID JELLY, YOU HAVE BECOME OH SO SMELLONBURY!
I’ve been ‘going’ to Glastonbury since the 90’s. I’ve seen The Cure, The Orb, The Happy Monday’s, Radiohead, Die Tottenhosen, The Offspringand The Levellers (obviously 100’s more) – all when they were relevant. I danced to ‘Teenage Kicks’ at the John Peel stage and he thanked me for my ‘moves’. (Only two of us danced!). I watched Oasis in their heyday, their first time and their best time on the Pyramid Stage. I have, unfortunately witnessed Pulp too, so can’t win them all. But it has to be said, things ‘ave changed man! The dance tests came, the snotty little kids who didn’t quite get the vibe came. They pointed at the naked men (and women) in the Healing Fields as if they were freaks in a circus. They brought E’s and top shop clothes and bad hair cuts. They wore ‘clean’ clothes and changes of clothes and big suitcases of ‘stuff’. They sulked if it rained. (They still do). They went home if they got too muddy. The 90’s might well have been the festivals heyday (?). Ain’t looking for an argument!
By the time the noughties came, the festival was (to me) largely unrecognisable. The crowds had gotten bigger and bigger. The first festival in 1970 was attend by 1,500 people who witnessed acts like T.Rex and the entrance fee was £1. Roll on to now and 2024’s festival was attended by 200,000 and it set you back £335 (plus booking fee)! It was headlined on the last evening by SZA to (probably) the smallest crowd since, we’ll 1970). You have to question where has it gone wrong?
For a few years now the ‘not releasing the acts’ until the tickets have been sold has come under question, but never more so than this year. If we all thought Michael (and Emily) Eavis had got it wrong when he/they announced Jay Z as a headline in 2008 (Of course we let him off with that one), then SZA and the return (again) of Coldplay feels like one step too far. Dua Lipa was accused of miming (un-proven at time of publication), but ‘put on a show’ anyhow. But the main attractions this year were away from the main stage. Idles, Fontaines DC, The Fat White Family, New Model Army, Dr Meaker (continuing to make a name for themselves and pushing for a bigger state next year – surely) all smashed it. But after that . you had to search far and died for something new, something original, something that makes the hairs on your arms stand to attention.
Glastonbury has become safe, predictable and boring. Okay, so some say it’s not ‘about the music’. You don’t have to watch if you don’t like it. (You can just fast forward – ah Jay Z again). I’ve spoken with many who never venture near a stage. There’s entertainment from fire eaters to spider whisperers at every turn. There’s drugs to be consumed, there’s vegetarian food to be converted too. There’s ‘spirituality’. There’s ‘the cosmos’ to explore. But, you can do any of those things at the Tor anytime of year and for free! So what about the price tag? isn’t it time to declare what you’ve got up your sleeve and scrap the necessary ‘re-sale’ tickets. Isn’t it time to get some fresh blood, some new acts and get the festival back to what it was? I think so!
So, what of this years’s festival. Well headline day one was Dua Lipa, something for the young ones and the dads to watch from home on mute. But, although her set was s shrouded in controversy – was she miming? – was she not? The girl did put on a show, but it was LCD Soundsystem that stole the stage with their gloriously retro, sonically soaring anthems from ‘back in the day’. Undoubtedly Idles were the band of the day from the ‘other stage’ (why weren’t they on the {pyramid for ducks sake?) with Banksy fulled mayhem with he floating immigrant raft during the stomping Danny Nedelko.
Saturday saw the return of Coldplay. A band manufactured by algorithms sampled by AI bots from the lowest common denominators of the last twenty years of music. Come on Michael, you can do better than this. Wheeling out Michael J Fox to play guitar in his wheelchair just epitomised everything that Coldplay get so, so wrong.
Elsewhere the family festival ‘bands from yesteryear’ were rolled out one after the other like the bargain basement dregs at an HMV vinyl sale. Bloc Party, The Streets, Gossip, Corinne Bailey Rae, Orbital (having a day out on their pensioners bus passes) and Seasick Steve – the list just goes on and on. Fat White Family saved the day on the Woodsies stage with free food from Lias Kaci Saoudi’s lunchbox and a memorable over the top performance. Wonderful!
But talk about saving the worst til last. SZA produced a stage set that would have won over a crowd if there’s be one there, but was surely the most peculiar headline act since Metallica! The National and Two Door Cinema Club were just dull. Burna Boy did his best, but his best wasn’t really gonna save the day. James must have felt like they’d landed in a barrel of tits in a nipple sucking contest, such was the lack of competition for best band of the day on there Other Stage. Soft Play gave it their all, but were ‘struggling’ as they’d ‘been here since Saturday’ (Like that’s one night mate! – Ed). Steel Pulse were awful. The Breeders lame with bad sound. London Grammar were twee. Expectedly, but full of great late night songs to get ready for bed to. And then it was gone. Luckily there was skunk to buy, bugles to puke up and a spiritual gathering in the healing fields.
Roll on 2000 Trees!