Day 1
I had been knocking about the West Country since the early hours of Wednesday morning, so it was a sensational feeling to finally overhear the festival kick off (albeit somewhere in the distance).
Liam's swag-filled vocals (which are sounding pretty decent on the new album might I add) echoed thought the site as Beady Eye took to the stage at 11am. I was hard at work at this point in time, dancing around in a giant papier mâché head (as one does when one works at The One show), so was unable to completely immerse myself in anything music-wise until our show had gone out. Doesn't mean I didn't revel in every inch of that, at that point, particularly muddy field.
Working did mean I missed out on a lot of boss stuff. Here are some of the things I shoulda woulda coulda seen....
"That bloke off the telly" aka Mat Alwright had been totally gegging over Nile Rodgers for days and while I know, appreciate and respect Nile and his body of work, I don't think I would have headed over to West Holts to see Chic were it not for that Mat’s passion. I lasted 2 songs and scarpered to see the monkeys. Sue me.
The Arctic Monkeys are a band I've seen on many occasions, including the last time they headlined Glastonbury. Using my narrow hips and a mystical cape I managed to sneak my way onto the side of the stage from where I sat and enjoyed the artists formerly known as "northern scallys" totally slay their set.
Then, on a quest to recreate Primavera's glory, I set about to catch some Crystal Castles. One of my many issues with the VIP bar is the inevitable interception. After 3 surprise meetings, I had to sack off CC leaving the memory Barcelona's banging performance in tact. This is what I missed.
Day 2
Saturday was when my festival fun was officially allowed to kick off. I had every intention of getting my annual dose of "festi loco" (an outer-body experience that occurs once a year. Festiloco is enhanced by musical offerings, a field and an unhealthy amount of boozes).
After setting off from our delightful Yeoville hotel, dumping a few bits and bobs at camp and opening a can, yes a can of Malibu and cranberry, Glastonbury 2013 was on!!!
My desire to see Ms Mr perform was finally satisfied after a series of narrow misses over the last 2 years. I saw my home girl Lizzy shimmy and shake all across the John Peel stage. I was filled with a pride similar to that moment at the end of Sister Act II Back in the Habit, where Lauren Hill and the gang perform at the choir competition. Lizzy and Max owned that stage. The humble little bumpkin later told me that she was totally overwhelmed by the experience and had been expecting to play to about 8 people! A few more than that made an appearance though and, The Sun's rumour has it that one of those few was only bloody Prince Harry.
Next up, we hit The Park Stage. Haim were super, in large part, I think, due to the infectious joy they get from being on stage. Those girls look like they are having a ball and that vibe totally draws the rest of us into their kooky little family for the duration of their set. Plus, Este's bass face is maybe my new favourite thing.
Devendra Banhart followed on the same stage. What a guy. Just dreamy.
Alabama Shakes. And why not hey? That lady can siiiinnngggg!!! I remember a point last year where their album was consistently one of the top sellers in independent record stores and this gives you an inkling as to why.
My treat to myself and to you was an unexpected glory, a band comprised of specky Scottish twins; it was only The Proclaimers! The Acoustic Tent housed a brilliant wee set that obviously ended in 500 Miles. Who doesn't have seeing that live on their bucket list?
Ah yes, then it was time for the big boys. Jagger, Wood, Watts and Richards emerged to an audience oozing expectation and anticipation. For those who missed them the first time round, an opportunity to live out a lifelong a dream. For those who didn’t, a chance to relive the glory days. And for some people, the dream was lived and the glory story retold. My experience was less than resplendent. From where I was standing the sound was shit. I grew quickly impatient and made a decision with the lads to leave after Wild Horses, song number 5. Quite the opposite of sacrilege, this may have been our finest idea yet, so strong an idea that the mighty Thom Yorke even followed suit. The destination of choice; Public Enemy.
These guys did what the Stones, for me, failed to. They rocked, rolled and engaged and entertained. Their set was loud, enigmatic, energetic and basically one of the coolest things I've seen for a while.
Being particularly drunk and impatient is a combination that often leads me to wonder off solo. Determined to see Fuck Buttons (another Primavera fave) I ventured off alone into the night. Much like Crystal Castles, this was a plan I was destined never to fulfil. Once again I found myself with unexpected company (namely my editor and deputy editor) and in an entirely new world of wonder. We ventured off to watch Fatboy Slim in the giant flaming spider at Arcadia. I definitely spent a lot of time demanding we get close enough to the fire for me to lose an eyebrow and get ‘party scars’. I also was desperate to find somewhere that could play me some Britney Spears.
We then saw things about which we shall never speak over in Hell at the Shangri La. and then it was daylight.
Day 3
Moving swiftly on, Sunday began in a seamless swoop where Saturday left off. My bosses, satisfied they'd partied hard departed. I grabbed a cooked brekkie and strolled down to site to have a butcher's at Zulu Winter. Not a bad way to start any day really.
Stealing Sheep were my next band of choice. They played an underwhelming set over at the Park. I'd probably give then another watch on a smaller scale but felt that they were a tad out of their depth on the big stage.
The next big disappointment came from the BBC introducing stage. I thought The XX were going to play a cheeky set. Alas, they merely played 1 track to an overflowing tent of fans and fortunate bystanders. God that band are great.
Villagers at the John Peel stage were lovely. I've always been a fan of those guys and saw em recently at Village Underground. Captivating, emotive and heartfelt songs spewed from Conor O'Brien's mouth and filled the tent with folky warmth and Irish soul.
Unfortunately, myself and my good buddy Funnel had lost the ability to focus and so went backstage for an epic round of table tennis. This truly was one of my favourite festival moments. You see, the thing about Glastonbury is that it is so much more than a chance to see banging bands and lose your mind in a big field. I think everyone who goes has that part of the experience, sure, but the weekend is also peppered with these moments of simplicity. It's the simple memories that linger longest and recalled with the greatest fondness. Am I right? Or am I just a big emo?
Tom Odell serenaded us while our ping pong session ensued. Cheesy as he may be, boy does that boy know how to hold a note.
I'd promised some gentlemen that I would drop them at the station so we left to pack down our tents and reflect over a totally unique and incomparable weekend. In the distance I could hear the divine creature that goes by the name Jessie Ware killing it. Why I like that album I couldn't tell you. its not my usual tipple of choice, BUT love it I bloody do and can't get enough of that foxy female.
It was time to leave. I had people in the real world to see and lads to drop off. Had I stayed, you can bet your bottom dollar I would have seen some of this lot...
Everything everything
James Blake
Phoenix
The XX
There was so many acts I wish I had seen and I kind of feel like my itinerary lacked a bit of imagination. however, all I can say is that the whole shebang was next level kinda great and I wish I could make up some sort of expression that could do it justice.
The End
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