A love letter to Glastonbury 2019
Words David Edwards. Photo Mike Burnell
I first went to Glastonbury Festival in 2007. I was 25, and though something of a late starter I have been to every single subsequent event at Worthy Farm. In the back of my mind there has always been the feeling that one day, I will walk away from the festival thinking ‘that’s enough’. So every single time I step foot into the enormous city that grows out of the ground — as if by the design of some Arthurian Wizard — on Worthy Farm, I’m acutely aware that this could be the year I finally tire of the size, the scale, the exhaustion and the ever-growing stiffness in my knees.
So what do we say to the god of Glastonbury disappointment? Not this year. No bloody way…
Over three astonishing and sun-scorched days at Glastonbury, there was barely a moment where you weren’t overwhelmed by the sheer quality and diversity of the music on show. This was one of the finest musical weekends of my life, and that comes from someone who didn’t even get to see Stormzy’s astounding Friday headliner, or see The Cure make one of the toughest stages in the world into their absolute own.
Friday
Every good celebration needs a good opening dance. And satirical ABBA tribute act Björn Again are precisely the sort of daft thing that makes the festival so unpretentious and their commitment to their roles is commendable, right down to era-appropriate costume changes and calling each other by their aliases on stage. But in terms of the music, you simply cannot go wrong with arguably the finest pure-pop songbook in the history of music. We get all the greatest hits plus a somewhat bizarre cover version of Van Halen’s ‘Jump’ thrown in for good measure.
Goat Girl’s brilliantly slanted psych-rock remains bafflingly under-rated and it is a real shame that their John Peel performance is so scantly attended, but they turn in a terrific performance in spite of this.
I had my first kiss to a Sheryl Crow song. And she obliges me by playing said song — ‘If it Makes You Happy’ as the opener. It’s perfect mid-afternoon Pyramid Stage fayre — she looks as if she is thoroughly enjoying herself in the sunshine, the sun is beaming and her band and the sound are strong and loud. It’s a fantastic moment with an act that many people wouldn’t see otherwise (me included) who have happy memories of the mid-to-late 90s. Her enthusiasm and good grace is admirable as she stalks the side ramparts and comes down to meet fans at the front. And by the time she brings out ‘Soak Up the Sun’ (a track that cannot fail on a day like this) and a closing ‘Everyday is a Winding Road’ we are all sent happily on our way.
Enthusiasm isn’t really a word one would necessarily associate with Ms Lauryn Hill though. And nor should we probably expect it, given her variable history of tricky behaviour in the live arena. But to be fair, she does her absolute best today — she sings and raps perfectly, she seems genuinely willing to try and give her all and with songs as flawless as the ones she plays from her classic <i>The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill</i> record, she has a captive crowd. The set is besieged by unfortunate sound issues, but she does pull it round with an absolutely towering closing trio of ‘To Zion’, a monumental ‘Doo Wop (That Thing)’ complete with some quite brilliant rapping and a mass sing-along of The Fugees ‘Killing Me Softly’ that the whole crowd continues singing long after she has left the stage. I’ve seen some reviews being very unfair on her set and I think that is overly harsh. It was ok, it just occasionally fluttered when it could and should have soared.
Cider is refilled, food is bought. The sun finally dips and we get some respite from the searing heat. And there are serious choices to be made. One of the issues this year is the sheer scale of the headline clashes — today we face a choice between Stormzy, Interpol, Jon Hopkins and Tame Impala. We eventually plump for the latter and make our way over to the Other Stage where I am hugely impressed and pleasantly surprised by how good the last few songs of Two Door Cinema Club are. They combine rhythm and melodicism into a colourful package of joy and prove an unexpected delight as the Other Stage is bathed in a glorious sunset.
Back in 2013, Tame Impala played The Other Stage in the middle of the afternoon to a huge crowd, fresh on the success of Lonerism. Whilst may might have expected that to be the height of their success, In the six years since, they have truly gone stratospheric. Despite the appeal of Stormzy on the Pyramid Stage, the stage is absolutely packed as they come on to an extended, woozy version of ‘Let it Happen’. The lysergic symmetry of the music and the kaleidoscopic visuals prove a worthy addition to the electronic history of the stage, yet there is a harder edge always underneath — Kevin Parker’s guitar and the willingness to rock out — especially during a storming version of ‘Mind Mischief’ complete with the ‘Sestri Levante’ jam at the end. ‘Yes, I’m Changing’, ‘Feels Like We Only Go Backwards’ and ‘Why Won’t You Make Up Your Mind’ overflow with Beatles-esque psychedelic swirl; ‘Led Zeppelin’ and ‘Apocalypse Dreams’ stomp and shake. And of course, ‘Elephant’ brings the house down. By the time they close with a stirring, anthemic rendition of ‘New Person, Same Old Mistakes’ as laser lights and strobes sweep the field like a series of fractured searchlight beams, they have confirmed their ability to command the biggest of bills and as a band of truly unique powers and dynamics. Stunning.
Saturday
As we start making our way into the arena, all the talk on Saturday morning is about Stomzy’s mesmeric set the other night (see Mark’s review for more details). It is another sizzling day and the mercury has already hit 28 degrees by the time I take my place in the front section of The Pyramid Stage for The Proclaimers. As an opening act on the stage, they can pretty much relax knowing that their simple, honest and energetic songs are bound to win everyone over. And certainly, they do just that. It is easy to pigeonhole The Proclaimers but to witness one of their live sets is to be struck by the sheer number of memorable and straight-from-the-heart anthems that they have.
It’s over from the old to the new as we walk to a baking John Peel Stage for She Drew the Gun, who once again prove that they have a serious claim to be the best up-and-coming band in Britain today. From the opening power of ‘Resister’, the glorious tilt and sway of ‘Something for the Pain’ they seem absolutely at home at the festival where they first made their breakthrough with the Emerging Talent Prize in 2016.
A glorious surprise awaits whilst strolling through West Holts on a mission for a Brothers Pear Cider to slake the thirst. And that surprise is Ezra Collective. Jazzy and funky, sparse and melodic, hugely entertaining and brilliantly connecting with the audience — they are exactly the kind of communal experience you need mid-afternoon with the sun baking down. They bring on Jorja Smith for one track and then a tremendous cameo turn from Loyle Carner with a freestyle rap. The whole thing is one joyous celebration of music, life and being finding your happiness. Thoroughly recommended.
As indeed are Oxford’s The Low Island who we find on the Greenpeace Stage, in amongst skaters, sun casualties and urgent messages about the state of the planet. They do a lovely and enthralling line in sparse, minimalist electronica tucked into the silhouette of an indie band, at times almost coming across like a more guitar-interested LCD Soundsystem.
We then come to the weekend’s worst clash. With the news that Foals are confirmed for the secret set at The Park, we have a horrendous choice between them, Johnny Marr, Lizzo and Janet Jackson. It’s an agonising choice to make, but eventually we decide to head to the Pyramid Stage for Janet, largely on the grounds that we are likely to see (or have seen) the rest on plenty of other occasions, whereas seeing a bona-fide legend in Janet Jackson is unlikely to happen anytime soon. And just like Lauryn Hill, there is good and bad. She lip-syncs, but given the sheer energy and power of her dancing and the way she prowls and storms round the stage, that doesn’t overly bother me. So why is it that the set — though thoroughly entertaining and supremely crafted — never quite gets beyond the 8/10 level? In the end, it is possibly the latter thing. The dancing is PHENOMENALLY tight and choreographed to absolute precision, but there is something almost too clinical and machine-tooled about both the show and much of the accompanying audience interaction. But that isn’t to detract from a remarkable run of songs including ‘What Have You Done for Me Lately’, ‘Nasty’, ‘That’s the Way Love Goes’ and a joyous rendition of her 1992 collaboration with Luther Vandross ‘The Best Things in Life Are Free’. And the closing ‘Rhythm Nation’ is tremendous, though it is notable that she pays tribute to ‘my family, The Jacksons’ as opposed to any reference to Michael solely.
The last time Liam Gallagher graced the Pyramid Stage was back with Oasis in 2004, and the result was a sprawling, scowling, unfocused and uninterested shambles that frankly shamed both the band and their frontman. It was the moment I gave up on Oasis after a decade of them soundtracking my life. So Liam has a point to prove today, and he rises admirably to the challenge. He really does now have his mojo back — strutting the stage, shaking his maracas, looking every bit the iconic frontman of his early years. It’s true that the voice occasionally strains and it is also true that the weight of his solo material struggles to breathe against the power of the Oasis songs, but the swagger and charm carries the day, as does the continued excellence of the likes of ‘Morning Glory, ‘Rock ’n’ Roll Star’, ‘Cigarettes and Alcohol’ and a barnstorming ‘Columbia’. Welcome back Real Liam. You have been missed.
Move ahead to the next paragraph Keane haters, because you’re going to be frothing at the mouth. Because in all honesty, their Acoustic Stage show was an absolute joy. I have long supported the East Sussex band through 15 years of sneers and scorn because regardless of how ‘posh’ people think they are, the songs they put out over their first three albums still stand up. And my word, do they stand up tonight. To a packed tent (the band, and Tom Chaplin in particular are absolutely blown away by the size of the crowd) they just give us brilliant song after brilliant song. Opener ‘Bend and Break’ is magnificent. ‘Nothing in my Way’ still sounds effortlessly yearning — full of emotion and weariness. ‘Spiralling’ still sounds like a band reaching out of their comfort zone and succeeding admirably. And when it comes to the hits — ‘Somewhere Only We Know’, a magnificent ‘Everybody’s Changing’ and a soaring ‘This is the Last Time’ — you wonder just how songs of this simple, honest beauty have been lost in time, and unfairly marginalised. One of the sets of the weekend, from a band who genuinely deserve a reappraisal.
Again, we struggle to decide on who to see next. As we walk down, The Killers kick off with a storming ‘Jenny Was a Friend of Mine’ but we are swayed by the promise of The Chemical Brothers on The Other Stage. However, it doesn’t fully connect tonight in the way that previous shows of theirs have. Not because of the band and their setlist, which is typically brilliant and showing off their superb new album No Geography, especially a superb ‘Got to Keep On’ and a stomping ‘MAH’. And their visuals are as mind-bending as ever. No, it’s not them — it is the fact that their reputation precedes them and The Other Stage is absolutely packed, with room only at the very back. As such, the power of the music and the sheer retina-blast of the visuals is hugely diminished.
After half the show we end up heading to see Hot Chip at The Park. And we are so glad we do. The sound is bouncing and strong and they really cannot do any wrong. ‘Over and Over’ prompts an enormous wave of bouncing and pogoing, ‘And I Was a Boy From School’ shimmers and sparkles and ‘Ready for the Floor’ remains their enduring masterpiece. They even throw in their usual esoteric covers — tonight we get an abridged version of The Eurythmics’ ‘Love is a Stranger’ during ‘Spell’ and they then bring out Four Tet for a truly unexpected and storming version of The Beastie Boys ‘Sabotage’.
Sunday
After staying awake until 5am listening to Detroit techno and watching an S&M-influenced dance troupe in Block 9, getting up is hard work. But the sun has taken a brief respite and there are bands to see — there is no time for rest. Certainly not when we are in the presence of greatness on the Pyramid Stage at midday for the one and only Mavis Staples. It’s a slow-paced and languid set, as befitting an artist approaching her 80th birthday but that deep, trembling soulful voice still resonates across the crowd — still retaining its power and singularity. It’s the ideal set at an early hour, and as she is helped off stage to huge applause, you are aware how fortunate you are to have seen a living legend.
The legs are starting to get weary but we decide to head on over to West Holts to see Jeff Goldblum and The Mildred Snitzer Orchestra, that is until someone in the press area mentions that Sir David Attenborough is appearing on The Pyramid Stage at 2.30pm. So we change tack and head over to an already-rammed Pyramid Stage where Years & Years are performing. Musically, it is standard electro-pop fayre with outward prettiness but little interior substance. That said, the stage show and the dancers are impressive and any criticism is immediately forgiven when Olly Alexander gives a remarkable and deeply moving five-minute monologue about the prejudice he has faced as an openly gay man, the deep and urgent importance of gay rights and the legacy of the Stonewall Riots fifty years ago.
After a brief, but vital statement from Sir David Attenborough thanking Glastonbury for banning single-use plastics (the site is so much clearer and cleaner this year — definitely a vital and welcome move from the festival) and a stunning preview of the new BBC nature series Seven Worlds, One Planet we find ourselves right at the front of the Pyramid Stage — squashed but excited — for Kylie Minogue. It is unquestionably the biggest crowd of the weekend and when she emerges for the opening ‘Love at First Sight’ — smiling and resplendent in a gold dress — the roar that greets her is almost physically powerful in its resonance. What follows is essentially the perfect Glastonbury pop set. She makes the bold but correct decision not to snub the ‘80s Stock, Aitken and Waterman pop era, with the likes of ‘I Should Be So Lucky’, ‘The Locomotion’, ‘Hand on Your Heart’, ‘Especially for You’ and ‘Better the Devil You Know’ being joyous, celebratory and unpretentious singalongs. Fresh red roses are handed out to the front of the crowd as she brings out Nick Cave for ‘Where the Wild Roses Grow’ — the first time she has played it in her own set since 1995. Then we get the electro ‘00s comeback hits — a mashup of ‘Slow’ and David Bowie’s ‘Fashion’ that works much better than it has any right to, and a riotous ‘Kids’, though she does nearly blow it with a well-meaning but ultimately unnecessary cameo by Chris Martin that reduces the start of ‘Can’t Get You Out of My Head’ to a dreary busker ballad (though once the beat kicks in midway through, all is forgiven). And of course, a swirling, woozy ‘Confide in Me’ — a track that remains by far her finest moment.
There is a stop-off to see The Bootleg Beatles in the Acoustic Stage who give us a typically joyous hour of some of music’s most sublime songs, before we head back to the Pyramid Stage for Vampire Weekend. Though in doing this, we catch the closing moments of Miley Cyrus’s astonishing performance on the same stage. When we walk in she is dressed as her Ashley O character from her recent Black Mirror episode, performing ‘On a Roll’ from that show, morphing it into Nine Inch Nails’ ‘Head Like a Hole’ from which it is based. She finishes with a stunning ‘Wrecking Ball’ and her whole stage demeanour, voice and sheer energy is astounding. As much as I love The Beatles, I’m chalking this one up as an error — staggeringly good.
Vampire Weekend really do have a free hit here. And they do not miss. At four albums in now, they can afford to chop and change but the likes of ‘Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa’, ‘Cousins’ and ‘Diane Young’ are near flawless examples of indie world-pop. The band — as expected — are sublime, with special mention to new touring guitarist Brian Robert Jones who is a frankly ridiculous talent. Most impressive is the response to the likes of ‘Harmony Hall’ and ‘This Life’ which already sound like classics and fit seamlessly into the set only a few weeks after being revealed to the world. ‘Oxford Comma’ still sounds magnificently sly, bookish and witty and the closing ‘Jerusalem, New York, Berlin’ ends the set on a wistful, melancholic but oddly moving note. It may not have been the storming and energetic set on the same stage in 2013 but it was another reminder of just how unique, melodic and sensitive this band are under the preppy exterior, and how lucky we are to have them.
Again, clashes abound as we reach the culmination of the festival. At any other time, the opportunity to see The Cure on the Pyramid, Janelle Monae on West Holts or Christine and the Queens at The Other Stage would have been too tempting to ignore. But I have unfinished business over at John Peel. See, The Streets have a deep and dear place in my heart with their first two albums. Back between 2001 and 2005, Mike Skinner and his songs meant the world to me at a key point in my life with so many of those early songs providing accompaniment to so many important moments for me. So it therefore broke my heart when the final two Streets albums became increasingly self-parodic and the live shows descended into an aimless mess — eschewing everything that they used to stand for. But having been blown away by their Parklife set the other week, I make the call to let Mike Skinner bring things home and to finally put to rest my sadness.
And they deliver. Boy, do they deliver. In an utterly rammed tent (it is so packed inside and outside that you can barely move at first) Mike Skinner decides to play it absolutely straight and just give us the hits. The opening trio of ‘Turn the Page’, ‘Has it Come to This?’, ‘Sharp Darts’ and ‘Geezers Need Excitement’ take us right back to the days of Original Pirate Material and still sound unique, fresh and barely date. From there, the energy never stops flowing. Mike Skinner is on superb form — pogoing for England, funny and communicative with the crowd and looking genuinely blown away by the amount of people here for this show. The likes of ‘Dry Your Eyes’ and ‘It’s Too Late’ remind you just how sensitive and delicate Skinner’s songs can be and how they acted as a necessary foil to his tales of beer, brandy and lairy japes. It may be hard to see where a new album can come from that doesn’t detract from the newly-recalled legacy (the new tracks still sound something of an afterthought rather than having and true weight) but for now, that doesn’t matter. As we leave the tent, people passing us are shocked that we didn’t see The Cure. I love The Cure, I really do. But I’m not sad or sorry. As a way to finish everything off, that was simply blinding.
So once again, I stagger away from the Worthy Farm gates the next morning to my car and begin the familiar and long drive home. After a while, you see less and less Glastonbury parking stickers on cars until it just becomes the odd one on the motorway, then none as I reach the outskirts of Manchester and return to a normal life of showers, walls, comfortable beds and (less welcomingly) a full day of work the next day. But already I am thinking about 2020 and the 50th anniversary. As ever, Glastonbury 2019 delivered on every single level — a festival genuinely like no other, which year-on-year rises to the challenge it sets itself and remains truly diverse, political and of absolute cultural relevance to the fabric of this country.
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