Thursday, July 05, 2007
Glastonbury
Originally published on the Brighton Argus Website
Brighton’s reputation as one of the UK’s most up for it cities precedes it. So it’s no surprise that come Thursday afternoon a fair cross section of our premier caners and party monsters are all present and incorrect at Glastonbury. The cop dodging free party/sound system pushers work the Green Fields and Lost Vagueness, representatives from Brighton’s many labels and club nights float around the Dance Village and our resident Indie promoters and scenesters lurk around the fringes of the smaller band tents and on site bars. It’s like a little bit of Brighton has decamped to Pilton for the weekend to keep things lively and truly, it’s a beautiful thing. There’s also a fair number of Brighton acts on the bill, The Kleptones, Brakes, The Pipettes, Kooks, Cakeboy, Longrange and inevitably Fatboy Slim all feature. As do the Maccabees who, playing second fiddle only to Hot Chip on Friday night in the John Peel tent, have evidently garnered legions of superfans. Whilst waiting for Super Furry Animals on Friday afternoon a large group of lads chance upon frontman Orlando stood just in front of us; back pats, handshakes and introductions are exchanged and Orlando, clearly already a master of the ‘grip and grin’ dutifully poses for some toe-curling mobile phone snaps, much to the amusement of his non-Maccabee mates who accompany him. Christ – I’m staring to sound like Jo Brooks already, huh? Well they told me this had to be Brighton related so I’m doing my best, alright?
Glastonbury is all about extremes. Polar extremes. At any given moment you could be watching a world class act like Arcade Fire whipping crowds of thousands into mass delirium with a wrought, hyper-intense scamper through their back catalogue. Whilst on the other side of the site, a man receiving an on stage enema is having much the same effect on a leaky tent of just a hundred. One moment you’re knackered, the next you’re euphoric, one moment you’re mind is drifting – desperately searching for something to occupy it - the next you’re arrested by the spectacle of a pack of twenty uniformed, kazoo toting scousers blasting out brass classics in unison. This constant oscillation between extremes is rammed home early on Saturday morning: Watching the Pipettes open the Main stage I experience the most peculiar of sensations finding myself getting sunburnt on my right cheek whilst simultaneously getting rained on on the other. It’s like this all weekend……
Eventually you adjust and surrender yourself to a sensory assault from all angles. Only then can you relax and properly enjoy yourself. Of course the seemingly relentless showers and ceaseless trudging through acres of brown filth erode a little bit of the atmos. But if us Brits are good at one thing – it’s getting royally spangled in spite of everything and this is always in evidence at Glastonbury. Plus, the discerning music fan can’t really go wrong with the stunning array of talent on offer. My personal highlights include The Hold Steady whose vile marriage of Bruces Hornsby and Springsteen would normally have me reaching for the valium, but in wowing a rammed tent of die-hards their power is undeniable. Patrick Wolf, The Gossip, The Cribs, Meat Katie and The Rakes also delight but the band of the Festival Award must go to !!! for dispensing with a classic ‘right time right place’ Saturday night second headliner. One day these nutty New Yorkers will stir a killer chorus into their druggy, gloopy tune soup and the world will have to contend with a monster groove machine of a band to rival prime time ‘Mondays or even Talking Heads at their most hypnotic. And I for one will be down the front at Glastonbury, pear cider in one hand, God knows what else in the other to witness it. Rain or shine.
posted by: Jim Brackpool @ 5:25 PM
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