ireallylovemusic goes to glastonbury - 2005 - part 1
And so to Glastonbury ...
Having watched the festival many times on television my heart yearned more and more each year to experience and absorb the festival in the flesh, I needed to have one of those legendary “Glastonbury moments” before I hit any midlife crisis, see the excessive permissive society in all its glory. And more importantly see a whole bunch of bands in a few days meaning I could get back to my luxury customised sofa knowing which bands were worthy of further investigation.
Arriving on a gloriously hot and sunny Thursday afternoon, prior to any scheduled live gigs, we did the non-music stuff while the sun shone. Checked out the Green Fields, where we kindly decline the offer of drugs, pills, and even pollen?! Wondered at just how on earth the tepees are transported in a ford fiesta, listened to some Hamish styled ho-down in a wooden built temporary pub, investigated the much mentioned Midnight Carnival, and generally had a truly wonderful evening. Yes, this was Glastonbury, and I hit the dirt feeling good. Tomorrow is after all another day.
Friday
6am – despite the holiday vibe my body clock wakes me up with no option to have a rare lie-in. So, I decide to go for a walk and get accustomed to the routes from one stage to another, before the madness really starts. I head towards the John Peel tent, which according the line up is definitely going to feature a lot in my plans over the next few days. Within 10 minutes of leaving my tent it started to rain. A lot. Hmm, I don’t really have the facility to get all nice and warm and dry here, best get back. By the time I find the tent the heavens are really letting rip and all manner of nature related chaos is beginning to occur. I get in tent and daren’t move for the next 3 hours.
Watching the clock closely as 10 am approaches I decide to venture down to the Other Stage as The Dead 60’s are due onstage soon. Now, I know little of the band, I haven’t heard any of their songs, but a recent flick through a magazine brought to my attention that their debut is to be accompanied with a space-dub version of the album. Now I am interested. Never one to miss a little dubbed up rock music I decide to see if these guys are worthy.
The walk down to the Other Stage reveals the extent of damage. Where last we night we sat on the grass while those around us smoked it, it was now a river of mud, but I suspect you’ve seen the pictures, so I wont go into all that side of things.
The Dead 60’s never appeared, nor did Black Bud (who ??), instead a bloke walks on stage with a megaphone. For a split second my hopes rose – a special guest appearance by Pop Will eat Itself opening the fun?
No such luck. it's a Bloke shouting at us, telling us they had a few technical difficulties, and they were doing everything they could. It became obvious that nature’s outburst had indeed caused some major stress to the techno bods.
Then 12.30 eventually came, and amazingly Tom Vek appeared on stage and kicked off the day. Now, I have listened to the album many times, perhaps almost too many on its first arrival, meaning that the lo-fi, tinny production that everyone finds appealing, whereas, for me the production makes it almost too painful to endure, but live Tom has fleshed out his vision with a proper band, and boy the difference is staggering. Funked up pop songs with everything in it’s right place. This is a great start, and watching Tom do his David Byrnes jerky dance lifts the mood and even the feet from time to time. If this newfound sonic confidence extends to his recorded output we could have a seriously good second album out of him.
Next up it’s the Black Velvets.
I run like the clappers – ok, I haul my ass as slow as the sludge will allow.
I have the plan to make it to the John Peel tent to see El Presidente, but it becomes very obvious there is no way I will make it. So I decide food is needed. While scoffing I hear Nine Black Alps do their thing, which is as everyone has said is Nirvana for the new pop kids. The crowd love’em. That’s nice
Now it’s time for my first big attraction name – Maximo Park.
The band are on top live form, the crowd sing along, the lead singer interacts and makes us feel good. I get tingles up my spine in the sheer surge of emotion and goodwill that the band seem to be able to generate. Within a few minutes I see where all the Jarvis cocker comparisons come from. They could indeed become a great live act. The album is chocka full of crowd pleasers, and the cheer at the end of the set is perhaps one of the most intensely demanding I heard all weekend. ‘that’s enuff’ nah. You’ve only just started pal. Get on with it.
Not realising the impact on my fragile frame I check the schedule - The Others on the oh so appropriately named The Other Stage. I make the trek, find space to sit on the platform that’s about half a mile from the stage and just chill while Dominic rips his vocals and the band play their trademark grotty indie rock. I still maintain, that if I were 18, this band would be the best thing since sliced bread. The crowd loved em, and I guess if I had been more demanding on myself I too would have. Instead I was chatting to lovely couple from Birmingham, one who is an accountant, and the other a lawyer.
Glastonbury = Hippies ?!? Well, where the fuck are they?
The Others finish and my new friends and I are in a dilemma – we’ve got The Babyshambles next followed by Bloc Party, or, it’s Doves on the big fancy TV coverage sanctioned stage. Decision made, stay and watch Pete do his lost puppy act, and then head for the skies with Doves.
If ever there was a more natural name for a band then please tell me. the BabyShambles were as shite as I expected. No matter how many Newsnight specials, or how many people tell me the man is a modern day poet, I’m sorry there is no avoiding the fact that the music is nothing special. Just shambolic (well its there to be used !) indie music. Oh great. I await the NME cover.
Let's move on.
My first big event of the weekend. The Pyramid stage line up is pretty much useless for me, but with the skies being as imposing as they are, and the wine flowing through my veins, we get up as close as we can and are totally blown away by the sheer power of the Doves live presence. The blokes themselves are obviously quite emotional, (‘in 1997 we were on the new band tent, and now look – and its all thanks to you’ tears all round), but their reach-for-the-skies melodies, the epic drawn out layers all click into place, and the man who took ‘The Last Broadcast’ back to the shop the day after he bought it because it's ‘just boring’ suddenly realises just how wrong he has been. I turn round and see the hill full of people, I see the same jawdrop image that I have seen so many times whilst in the comfort of my own home in previous years, and, out of nowhere the emotional interaction of the image, and the pounding groove of the Doves’ music all hits me hard. This is too intense.
I have just had my first Glastonbury moment.
I don’t hang about for The Killers too long. There is something about them that just doesn’t sit right, so off I go in search of a refill and Fat Boy Slim.
The Boy of course does nothing but spin some records. So that’s going to be seriously boring on a big stage, yeah? Nope. Somebody had forked out on a fantastic stage set. With Fat Boys DJ booth being elevated to the middle of the screen, and then a huge projected image would pulsate and do stuff to the funky beat, throughout the stage show, the DJ booth became part of the image (eg the cassette deck of an old school boombox), but prior to all this flashed up the warning ‘put on your glasses now!!’
Huh wassat all about? Oh well, just enjoy the party.
Several Fat Boy classics in, I spot the people next to me going “Ooohh” and “Argghhhh” a lot, they have weird glasses on. I ask to have a quick looksie.
Fuck! there are 3D Smiley faces coming out of the screen !! I don’t remember taking drugs.
That’s it. This is the best show I have ever seen. In. My Life.
Well, for 40 minutes it was. The track selection was as to be expected, lots of big fat funky beats, catchy loops and snatches of well known classics cut up. While his last album may have bombed, the man sure knows how to put on a party.
Ok, now that I am feeling the funk I check the list. White Stripes? Give me a break(beat), it's off to the Dance Village to see the good Old Stereo MC’s I go.
Expecting the tent ('Dance West' – like it's an instruction!), to be void of action, as the Stereo’s have not been a top level drawer for quite a while, however, the place is rammed to the max, and the band are already in full flow as I arrive. Slimmed down to the original trio and one backing singer, they look exactly as you remember them. The band may be ageing b-boys, but with their trademark loops, deep down and dirty basslines and sweetly sung/rapped lines from hip hops own grisly Steptoe, they have the crowd totally onside. Love, peace and grooveful harmony set to the max. Despite having been away for aeons due to record label/management issues, when those tried and tested ‘wayyy hayyy hay hay’ melodies of the ubiquitous 'Connected' are dropped, the flood of noise and surge of positive vibes is beyond sales figures reach. Miles of smiles. The years literally drop off the shoulders of the nostalgia groove. Unfortunately, just as things are getting seriously funky the curfew hits, and the band have to call it quits. The crowd don’t move. They chant, cheer like they have nothing else to do. Oh, they don’t. After a few minutes the band come back on stage – feel the noise ? No. the band plead with the mixing desk controllers, but it’s a no-go, so the band try to appease the crowd by explaining re the curfew. They aren’t having it.
But, a curfew is a curfew and eventually the crowd moves on.
Not far it seems, as across the street the Chemical Brothers are just finishing off their Glint set with some of their hits – finalising in their superb Kylie remix.
Friday was a very good day. what mud ?
next up : saturday!