Glastonbury 2019: Saturday with the Killers, Janet Jackson and Liam Gallagher – as it happened

I’m signing off now. There’s a bacon sandwich with my name written on it. In bacon. I’ll be back tomorrow at 7pm, for the final night of Glastonbury 2019, with the Cure and so much more. Tomorrow night I will be drinking beer. It’s going to get messy. Even messier. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye-ee!
Night all. It’s still sweltering here. I envy you the chill.

Five stars for Brandon Flowers and his Vegas showmen – plus guest spots from the Pet Shop Boys and Johnny Marr.

In one of the most face-palm clashes of Glasto so far, Hot Chip are up against Chemical Brothers as Saturday night’s dance headliner, but no matter: they’re already winning summer with flying colours. Their latest album, A Bath Full of Ecstasy, is a kaleidoscopic pastel dive into house music and the halcyon days of rave, and earned them praise as “Britain’s best pop band of the last 10 years” by this paper, made even more bittersweet, tragically, with the sudden death of its co-producer, Philippe Zdar, two days prior.

One word that may have not yet been associated with Hot Chip is epic, but their latest stage show, bathed in pastel light, feels like step up. It’s perhaps easy to forget how many massive tracks they have, even if they don’t have the top 10 singles to show for it – One Life Stand and Night + Day are by now anthemic, as much as Over and Over and Ready for the Floor, their breakthrough hits, which sound refreshed here on the Park stage.

Their new music, however, adds a new, more galvanising dimension to their sound. They bring out their Domino label-mate Georgia for the effervescently catchy Hungry Child while Spell - originally written for Katy Perry - is a spacious, sultry banger. Melody of Love is perhaps their songwriting at its best, about finding solace in joy.

There are echoes of the band’s old quirks when they’re joined by Morris dancers for the shiny techno chomper Flutes and by their old school friend Four Tet to play guitar on their slaying version of Beastie Boys’ Sabotage – but this is a Hot Chip reborn, slicker, far slicker than your average.

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Two and a half decades in the game, Wu-Tang have undergone changes that would have probably seen off other groups. Deaths, falling outs and other assorted departures have winnowed down its original lineup, and their West Holts set is hampered further by the absences of Method Man and Inspectah Decks. Still sometimes compactness can be a virtue.

Certainly this a more spirited effort than their last appearance here in 2011, where Method Man’s decision to turn up in his dressing gown spoke to the drowsy, half-interested nature of the performance. Here, despite the absences, RZA, Ghostface etc al are in a more crowd-pleasing mode, leading call-and-responses with the audience.

Deference is paid both to the late, great Ol’ Dirty Bastard, with his son (stage name: you guessed it, Young Dirty Bastard) tearing through Shimmy Shimmy Ya in his stead, and, inexplicably, Kurt Cobain, with a cover of Smells Like Teen Spirit.

The real highlights though come when they dip into their debut and – still – greatest album, Enter the Wu (36 Chambers), which somehow celebrated its 25th anniversary last year. Shame on a Nigga and Protect Ya Neck sounds as great as they did a quarter-century ago.

Jason Williamson and Andrew Fearne, AKA Sleaford Mods, seem to embody the radical politics of Glastonbury. Making their name with 2013’s Austerity Dogs for Williamson’s stream of consciousness rant-raps set to Fearne’s sparse, lo-fi beats, they have since developed their own knack for criticising the minutiae of daily life in Britain with cutting precision and skewed humour.

The fact that they are playing on Shangri-La’s Truth stage seems particularly fitting then – caustic honesty being Williamson’s lyrical speciality. The duo take to the stage with typical swagger and nonchalance, Fearne stood behind a lone laptop sipping a beer and Williamson hunched over the adjacent mic, spewing out lines like: “Graham Coxon looks like a leftwing Boris Johnson.” The crowd is sparse but hanging off of Williamson’s every word, jumping around to rave-led tracks from this year’s Eton Alive album like Flipside and Kebab Spiders.

This shouty soothsaying definitely won’t be to everyone’s taste, its minimalism too unvarnished to digest. Yet, Williamson is mesmerising, hip-swaying like Mick Jagger, high-kicking like a can can dancer and spitting venom like Keith Flint – his is a voice that certainly deserves to be heard.

Crikey. The Killers are pulling everything out for the closing stages of their set. That distinctive jingle, and we’re into one of the all-time great British singles. And we don’t even have to listen to Morrissey singing it. Brandon Flowers looks absolutely thrilled.

I had swapped to the mighty Hot Chip on the iPlayer. But I had the shock of my life. They appeared to be doing a completely straight version of Crazy Town’s Butterfly. Then I realised I had the sound on the iPlayer off, but YouTube had scrolled through annoying American hits after playing Mr Brightside, and Hot Chip weren’t playing Butterfly. Would have been a daring move.

Oh, back to the Killers! Jimmy Carr has literally swept the stage and Pet Shop Boys have come on to do You Were Always on My Mind with the Killers!

By Laura Snapes, who loves her some geezer rock.

Yes, the most successful Mormon pop combo since the Osmonds are about to bring the magic. But, I wonder, which of the Somebody Told Me hitmakers’ songs is the one that resonates most with the crowd? Why, it just so happens I have an article here that addresses that very question.

What happens when you cross Elvis with Nirvana? Well, Elvana – a sort of cabaret-cum-moshy karaoke mish-mash of both, with sequinned twin backing dancers/cheerleaders and musicians in suits and bowties. The singer is in full hip-wiggle mode, bedecked in a white jumpsuit emblazoned with an eagle, completed with a cape, medallion and Kurt Cobain’s distinctive red oval sunglasses. Except these are the distinctively crunchy guitars of the grunge kings that we’re hearing, mixed up with the King himself’s 50s classics.

“We are Elvana from Disgraceland,” announces the frontman, whose name is unclear – Elbain? – before they run through Nirvana’s In Bloom and School and then flip into a distorted rendition of Presley’s I Feel So Lonely. Later comes A Little Less Conversation mashed into Smells Like Teen Spirit, in which the frontman surfs into an adoring crowd. It’s idiotic, bafflingly brilliant and perfectly Glastonbury-shaped – there’s a reason why they’re playing three times over the weekend. Elvana manage to create something original and hilarious from time-worn songs that it would otherwise seem contrived to resurrect. Here’s hoping for Sinatras of the Stone Age next.

Over on the iPlayer, to the John Peel Stage where Sharon Van Etten is playing. Do watch: her most recent album, Remind Me Tomorrow, is fabulous, and the shows she did earlier this year were sensational. I hope I haven’t missed Seventeen. And I love her turn of phrase. This, from I Told You Everything, is wonderful: “Sitting at the bar, I told you everything / You said, ‘Holy shit, you almost died.’ ”

Laura Barton interviewed her earlier this year, and you can read it here if so you wish.

Can you, in all good conscience, listen to the Smiths in 2019, knowing what you know about the views of their erstwhile lead singer? It’s a knotty problem, but Johnny Marr has found a solution. He’ll sing the songs himself, removing the problematic aspect altogether. Job sorted. Sure, he can’t quite match the croon of He Who Shall Not Be Named, but nor does he have a For Britain badge pinned to his lapel.

Starting – fittingly – with Bigmouth Strikes Again, Marr rattles through a set peppered with Smiths classics. Inevitably tracks from his most recent album, Call the Comet, can’t help but feel anticlimactic in comparison but a welcome airing of Getting Away With It from his Electronic days provides a helpful reminder that Marr’s career doesn’t begin and end with that other bloke.

To a casual observer, Lizzo may seem brand new, suddenly experiencing her breakthrough moment in 2019. But the truth is that she’s been grafting ever since she released her debut album Lizzobangers in 2013. As she sweeps onto the West Holts stage at Glastonbury, a star in a cloud of glitter and chiffon, she’s keen to remind us of the long journey she’s had up to this point. “Last time we played Glastonbury, it was 2013, and there was two people in the crowd,” she announces. But now? “There’s thousands of y’all motherfuckers.”

Fresh from a set on Thursday in Milwaukee for Summerfest, where she alleges that security staff “slapped and manhandled” her stylists in a racist attack, Lizzo appears more dignified and defiant than ever. Flanked by her Big Girls, delivering tirelessly athletic choreography in black leotards, and swigging from a bottle of Patron, she blazes through a set that includes her 2019 hits – the Missy Elliot-featuring Tempo, and the bass-heavy Boys among them – as well as older, would-be hits, like 2016’s infectious Scuse Me.

As well as the back catalogue of an older star, Lizzo shows the crowd at every possible moment that she’s a quadruple threat: a soul singer (she interpolates Respect and No Scrubs during the set), a rapper, a dancer, and a flautist, dashing off not one but two flute solos during her biggest hits, Truth Hurts and Juice. Some of her droll interjections might encourage you to add comedian to the list, too.

But what she’s arguably most well known for, and what she brings to Glastonbury in spades, is her gospel of self-love. The crowd, who scream adoringly for such a long time at one point that Lizzo begins twerking to the sound, are eating from the palm of her hand as she instructs us to grab the person next to us, and tell them that they can do anything. “I’m gonna keep loving myself like its the honeymoon,” she announces. Its clear that, however long she’s been grafting for, this crowd is firmly in the honeymoon period with her too.

Janet Jackson is burning through her set with an unbelievably tight band and set of backing dancers. If I Was Your Girl, Control, All for You, The Best Things in Life Are Free and more have all been deployed and we’re only 30 minutes in. Massive bonus points for playing R&B Junkie – one of her greatest deep cuts. Full review coming soon!

I have never had a more welcome ice cream in my life. Vanilla and peanut butter and chocolate double scoop from Shepherds in the Greenpeace area, made with sheep’s milk in Hay-on-Wye. Gloriously clean and light and under a fiver – next time I’m going for the sesame and honey which is pure Ottolenghi genius in action. And maybe some other flavours too.

All weekend, in homage to Janet Jackson’s epic Control, we’ve been asking punters what they would do if they were put in charge of Glastonbury. Most of their requests have revolved around water and shade. Proving that JJ is truly the one in control, she appears to have summoned a light covering of cloud and an extremely welcome temperature drop in the moments before she appears on the Pyramid stage. We stan a meteorological legend, etc.

“Glastonbury, do you like rock’n’roll?”, Lewis Capaldi asks the sprawling Other stage crowd at the start of his set, as if about to launch into a rollicking Great Balls of Fire. And then, with perfect comic timing: “Well, you have come to the wrong fucking set my friends. However, if you like questionably chubby young men from Scotland to sing sad songs, you’re in for a treat.”

And boy, are they sad. So universally so that they start to bleed into one another like the ink on a tear-stained love letter. Beats from Carl Cox’s four-hour set in the Glade cut into Capaldi’s more spartan songs like a mate telling him to cheer up. Had it been raining, as it so often does at Glastonbury, this could have been insufferably dreary. But Capaldi has such charisma, and such a beautifully burnished soul voice, that the majority of this set is engaging, at times moving.

• Read Ben Beaumont-Thomas’s full review

Mary-Ellen, 57, ex-nurse, campaigner

“I like purple in particular and I sing in a choir where red is our colour so I have red roses on my chair. People don’t approach disabled people because they are taught not to stare – having things like this on my chair breaks down that barrier. I have been going to Glastonbury since 2001 – the Green Futures area is the best place to be.”

Aaron Molloy, 33, musician and cafe owner

“This is my ruff – I like it for the pow! My friend made it, things like this seem to follow me around. I will wear this on stage when I perform, but I would also wear it down Brixton market. I loved seeing Extinction Rebellion – I felt like I was in the 60s.”

Tony Myers, 61, works for the NHS

“We knew the pier was going to be here – Glastonbury-on-Sea – so we decided a hanky and rolled-up trousers would be good. It’s like Gumby from Monty Python. I make the gates at Glastonbury. This is the first time I have dressed up – people have been taking photos. It’s good to know there’s a place on the planet where you can wear something like this and know everyone else will be dressed up.”

As far as stage riders go, socks don’t occupy the same legendary status as, say, “fruit and flowers”, or M&Ms with all the brown ones taken out. But for permanently shirtless Northampton rapper Slowthai over on the West Holts Sstage, they’re unexpectedly key: he chucks his socks and shoes off during his first song, but then realises the error of his ways, yelling: “Where are my socks? It’s so hot I’m going to blister my feet!” Enter “Rick” and a comedy sequence whileduring which the audience waits for said socks to adorn Slowthai’s feet before he launches into a pulverising rendition of Drug Dealer, from his incisive debut album, Nothing Great About Britain.

His set is full of quotable moments: “Shout out the K-hole, it’s taken hold of me too many times”; “mMandem don’t forget to make your girl cum, otherwise you’re not doing it right”; “I’m tripping balls”; a singalong to Wonderwall that seems incongruous at first but isn’t, really – his swagger and cheeky boyish charm are pure Liam Gallagher. It’s goofy stuff – he’s obsessed with the mosh pit, constantly telling the audience to make it bigger, and bringing on Loyle Carner to gee people into creating a vortex – but none of it quashes the undeniable sense that Slowthai is one of British rap’s best new talents.

Only the day after Stormzy’s headline set, which marked a formative moment for British rap finally leaving its American shadow behind, Slowthai’s relentless energy and restless creativity – raw and guttural, as in tune to punk and he is jazz – marks out the promise of excellent things to come. He’s so boyishly charming that he gets away with playing Drug Dealer twice. The mosh pit is wild and unwieldy, reflecting the chaos that underpins Slowthai’s blazing talent.

Glastonbury’s newest dance stage is a giant head filled with avant-garde club music. Here’s a time-lapse video of it being built.

Just when you thought Jeff Goldblum and his jazz orchestra (playing the West Holts tomorrow) had the award for strangest Glasto novelty act sewn up, here’s a strong challenger. Fun Lovin’ Crime Writers are a six-piece covers band made up of thriller authors, including on vocals one Val McDermonid. And you know what – despite all the self-deprecating gags made about “murdering songs” – they’re actually pretty tight. McDermonid, it turns out, has a decent set of pipes on her, barrelling through Sweet’s glam classic Block Bbuster and doing her best Bowie on The Jean Genie. There’s a playfulness in their song choices, too, with all of them on a crime theme – Psycho Killer and I Predict a Riot make appearances. Crucially, they don’t outstay their welcome, even if the third encore appearance of Whisky in the Jar is a shade self-indulgent. Over to you, Goldblum!

If it wasn’t steamy enough at Glasto already, then the Love Synth Orchestra, playing the songs of Barry White, took it up a notch in the heat stakes. A star cast including Gruff Rhys, Lianne La Havas, Nadine Shah, jaw-dropping saxophonist YolandDa Brown and more joined an ensemble of players from the British Paraorchestra and Army of Generals orchestras, wielding synths and taking the bassy one’s songs to a cosmic, joyful level. Shah’s warm baritone lifted MyYour’e the First, the Last, My Everything, as Gruff held up his customary signs, asking the crowd to applause at the right time and then to let out a holy roar. With so many players crammed on to the stage, it could have been a jumble but the result – led by conductor Charles Hazlewood, resplendent in a loud jacquard suit – was a gloriously uplifting take on Barry White’s baby-makers.

Via Ben Beaumont-Thomas: “Lewis Capaldi opened his set with a video of Noel Gallagher saying modern music is ‘wank’ and asking ‘who’s this Capaldi feller?’ And then comes out dressed as Noel Gallagher in a parka. And then unzips it to reveal a T-shirt depicting Noel inside a heart.”

Who has just started on the West Holts stage. Caspar Llewellyn Smith sends this:

“Slowthai is immediately brilliant: after taking his white sports socks off, he complains that the stage is far too hot on his feet. Cue the comedy of trying to find where he put them and only starting again once he’s comfortably clothed: straight into Drug Dealer and a huge mosh pit appearing in front of the stage.”

An eye-wateringly enormous crowd has amassed for Ezra Collective, the UK jazz scene’s very own boy band from south London. It feels like a flashpoint for the movement – proof, if any was needed, of how it has taken root and continued to nudge overground.

Ezra trade exclusively in good vibes, which is perfect for a sweltering Saturday afternoon. They use their platform to urge people to bring joy into their lives, and it doesn’t feel contrived. “Too much of the media is about negativity among young people,” says drummer and bandleader Femi Koleoso, with the charisma of a younger Stormzy. “And we want to be a beacon of positivity.”

Their set does indeed radiate warmth and a refreshing vigour: laid-back brass, delicate keys that twinkle like sunbeams and drums that bang like an old-school hip-hop track. Most of their songs swirl around a variety of black music genres that reflects one of the beacons of London diversity, Notting Hill Carnival: not just jazz but dub, afrobeat, jungle, grime and soul.

Guests help to break up the jams: they bring out collaborator Jorja Smith for their single Reason in Disguise from their latest album, You Can’t Feel My Joy, then Loyle Carner comes through for What Am I to Do, underlining how UK soul, hip-hop and jazz do not have to be mutually exclusive.

“We wrote this song for the people who couldn’t afford to pay their rent but still bought a ticket to Glastonbury,” Koleoso says before set closer For Pablo, a spiritual Fela Kuti-indebted party jam, which is what they do best. Boundaries feel like they’re being broken, not just in terms of ridding jazz if its stuffy image but also in terms of the lines between genres dissolving: Ezra aren’t just one of the best new UK jazz bands – they’re one of the UK’s best new bands full-stop.

Lottie, 25: “I’d run an actual train along the train tracks so people can get to stages faster. There’s no shelter too – I’d plant some nice acacia trees to provide shade, otherwise everyone is getting burnt to a crisp. For the music, I’d have Bruce Springsteen headlining every single day because he’s the Boss!”

“Not vegan – but from a Dartmoor farm that’s part of the Farm Wilder wildlife-friendly sustainable agriculture scheme, so I thought it was probably allowed. Made from 28-day aged rib-eye cap pasture-fed beef, with Somerset cheddar and proper crispy bacon, Nelly’s Barn Burgers near the Park also do (soya-based) vegan burgers if that’s your thing. If it isn’t though, try this.”

Even in this age of streaming-assisted overnight megastardom, it seems more than a little remarkable that an unsigned artist – who released his debut album after crowdfunding the cost of production – has not only earned a plum afternoon slot on one of Glastonbury’s biggest stages but packed it out to such a degree that thousands of fans are stuck outside. It’s possibly the most oversubscribed gig at the John Peel tent since the Killers played a secret set here in 2017. And given they’re headliners this time around, you get a sense of the exalted company the Glasgow singer-songwriter born Gerry Crosbie finds himself in these days. “It’s a wee revolution starting,” he says.

Still, if it is a revolution, it’s one built on pretty traditional foundations. Crosbie’s brand of optimistic pop-folk feels almost cynical in its mass appeal: relentlessly major key and full of shout-along choruses that seem geared towards festival singalongs and home insurance ads. If you’re not a fan, a little of it goes a long way – though none of the masses at the John Peel stage seem terribly concerned about that.

Millie Sandy, 21, textile design student

“I got such bad sunburn yesterday and this dress is really good for this weather. I found the hat in a charity shop and I made the earrings using a fork! I was looking forward to seeing Tame Impala - I had seen them once before but I was quite drunk.”

Christy and Antonio Fadden, 9 and 7.

Christy and Antonio’s mum: “We came from Northern Ireland – the boat landed at 6.30am on Friday so we have only just got here really. They wanted to have different colours because they’re not the same. They’ll have it ’til September when they go back to school.”

Richard Hembling, 36, Formula 1 cameraman

“I had a similar pair of trousers when I came two years ago. I like getting in the festival spirit and my mum always told me it was better to seen to be safe. This is my second time. It was good enough to miss work – I would have been in Austria this weekend.”

Greenpeace have already run out of their homemade Marmite produced from brewing waste (which I thought Marmite was made from anyway, but could be wrong – I only eat the stuff by the gallon) – however, they are selling a really superb root and kale crisp (bear with me) bap on fresh sourdough to make up for this salty disappointment. The crisps are fried in olive oil, which came all the way from Spain on a sailing boat – very Leonard Cohen, but also very delicious. Recommend when the temperature drops below 30C.

It’s a packed Left Field tent for a panel called How to Save Our Planet (no pressure!), with Caroline Lucas in particular given a rock-star welcome.

Chaired by the Guardian’s own John Harris, fellow panellists are Clive Lewis, 16-year-old activist George Bond, Minnie Rahman of Joint Council for the Welfare of Immigrants and Barbara from the excellently named Fracking Nannas (“If I can get involved in activism in my late 50s, anyone can”).

It’s possible that the large turnout is down to the stifling heat (the climate crisischange, guys) pushing people into the respite of the shade – I spot a few weary nappers – but more likely it is because climate activism has blown up in big way in the last year. The sense of urgency seems to have cut through, as we’ve seen with Extinction Rebellion (who marched to the Stone Circle yesterday).

The vibe is mostly positive and optimistic. Someone asks a question on how we can help move away from the doom-and-gloom narrative in general – but important points are made by Rahman and Lewis in particular about how social justice, racial justice and climate justice are linkedconnected.

George and Barbara are inspiration detailing their direct action. Lucas talks the Green New Deal, and a mention of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is greeted with a huge cheer. George throws out a date to remember: the on 20th September, he says, there will be “the largest climate demonstration this country’s has ever seen. It’s gonna be huge, it’s gonna be beautiful, but it’s also gonna be filled with anger and rage that nothing has been done.” Mark it in the calendar.

And she had some excellent facial expressions.

It’s T-two hours (I have no idea what T stands for in this equation) until Janet Jackson graces the main stage, and Glastonbury’s punters have more ideas about what they’d do if they were put in charge. At this stage on a sweltering Saturday afternoon, when everyone’s body feels like a fleshy rockery covered in dozens of tiny sweat waterfalls, it’s no surprise that they mostly concern water, whether for washing or guzzling.

Alex: “I’d to see Nicolas Jaar on the Pyramid stage playing a really full-on set. And a deadly water slide.”

Jon: “I’d give everyone free leg rubdowns at 4am. Lower back massages for all. And a massive slip and slide.”

Kerry: “I’d make more facilities for toilets and I’d have Coldplay headline every year. I know Chris Martin came on with Stormzy last night, but unfortunately we were up at Shangri-La. People should be going around with ice and water.”

Frank: “Like at a race course. And more shaded seating areas. Fleetwood Mac is our shared dream headliner.”

Connie: “I would have better toilets and more water stations so that there’s less queues everywhere. More stalls for things like milk on your way back to the campsites. My dream headliner would be Ariana Grande. She doesn’t do that many performances in England and I don’t think she’s been to Glastonbury.”

Ben Randm, 35, standup comedian

“This outfit is about bringing Tame Impala joy to life. I like leopard because it’s lairy. I like the robe because it’s shamanic. Inclusivity, that’s what it is all about. I’m practical, too – these scarves aren’t just scarves, they’re wristbands to wipe my forehead.”

Tom Shepherd, 16, school-leaver

“I have seen quite a few of these hats, some with a mohawk. I liked the horns, and the Jack Daniels logo. I bought it here, and the sunglasses, too. I have been to Glastonbury the last four times. I don’t dress like this normally – I usually wear dark things. My favourite band is AC/DC – my dad is into them.”

Comedians, musicians and friends of Jeremy Hardy gathered to celebrate the late comic and Glastonbury regular in a special event this lunchtime.

Appearing in Hardy’s customary early afternoon slot at the Cabaret tent, performers including Mark Steel, Seann Walsh, Katherine Williams and Billy Bragg performed standup, songs and stories in memory of Hardy, who died earlier this year after a battle with of cancer.

The tone was celebratory rather than funereal, with plenty of pointed digs aimed at the current Conservative leadership campaign. Hardy, a staunch supporter of the Labour party and Jeremy Corbyn, was known for lending his comedy a strong activist bent both on stage and on Radio 4 panels shows such as Just a Minute.

Yet, as political comedian Steel, a close friend said, Hardy wanted to change the world and have fun doing it. That sense of mischief was underlined by a clip of Hardy performing Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah in the style of George Formby.

As the tribute concluded, Steel led the audience in a chorus of his tweaked version of the Corbyn chant that took the festival by storm two years ago. “Oh Jeremy Hardy,” he sang, prompting what will surely turn out to be one of the most rousing singalongs of the weekend.

Here’s some more superfans down the front of the Pyramid stage, enduring the heat to get up close and personal with their faves.

Antony

“I’m a massive Janet Jackson fan. This is my fourth Glastonbury and I was so excited when they announced that she was playing because I don’t think I’ll ever get a chance to see her again. She clashes with Lizzo, which is a tough choice to make, but it’s got to be Janet. I’ve got my water, I’ve eaten – now just for That’s the Way Love Goes.

Tony and Jo

“We’re going to be right at the front for Janet, Kylie and Miley. We love it camped out here stage-side – we’ve done it for Foo Fighters, Coldplay and Ed Sheeran, and they were some of the best shows I’ve ever seen. With older acts like Janet, you never quite know what you’re going to get but we’re hoping she’ll smash it just like Barry Gibb did a couple of years ago.”

Carrie Underwood is having her mind blown at the Pyramid stage. “I have never seen event security pass out water to people before. It’s a beautiful thing!” She’s a long way from the corporate enormo-domes that the country star plays in her native US. Underwood says they had no idea what wellies were until it was suggested they get some just in case – and the crowd is initially a little sparse, a little wary of the sight of two fiddles and a banjo at Saturday lunchtime. But Underwood’s rock bona fides start drawing in curious onlookers: on Cowboy Casanova, she pulls off a battering vocal run that makes its vengeful sentiment (“You better run for your life”) even more brilliantly menacing; she punks up Just a Dream, and belts so hard on Blown Away that the veins on the side of her head pop. Plus, she’s often found standing atop a black pyramid, contributing electric and acoustic guitar to her eight-piece band’s brawny chug.

It’d be easy to approach Underwood with preconceptions – blond, country, non–partisan – but there’s an unapologetic libidinousness (Last Name’s lusty bewilderment about getting with a guy purely on first name terms) and femininity (“You can’t cry pretty”) to her songs that earns her a place in country’s outlaw lineage, bringing the margins of women’s lives into a genre that has, recently, sought to sideline their experiences despite them being foundational country touchstones. She looks beyond them, too: although Love Wins isn’t exactly Relax when it comes to a full-throated celebration of queerness, in country terms it’s something close to that. Also she chucks in a verse from George Michael’s Freedom 90, which turns out to make an excellent country rager.

Lauren Cochrane here – I’m a senior fashion writer at the Guardian, and have been going round the site to find the greatest outfits and people who are managing to stay chic in 30C weather. First up: Laura Murray, 25, who works for British Heart Foundation.

“This dress is from the 70s – when I scored it from eBay I did a little celebratory dance. I like things that are a bit retro, and I think the clown hat will help me blend in with the Circus field. This is an exaggerated version of what I wear away from Glastonbury, but I always like to reuse clothes – and save the planet that way.”

Next up is 27-year-old marine pilot Josh Clerk.

“The outfit felt natural today – I let my inner animal out. It’s very comfortable, too. Is leopard a trend? It’s one I am setting. I have never been to Glastonbury before. There is something for everyone, and you can be as weird as you like.”

More fabulousness to come later on the liveblog …

In a particularly low period in the late noughties, I had a pulled-pork burrito loaded up with guacamole and sour cream every Friday as a treat. Then I quit my job and gave up burritos for at least a decade. On the plus side, this vegan BBQ pulled-jackfruit number from Club Mexicana is unlikely to impede my recovery, because it tastes so healthy it’s almost like eating a salad wrap – but something a bit salty and spicy and fatty in there wouldn’t have gone amiss to balance that tangy, sweet BBQ sauce. Not pork though, obviously.

I’ve been down the front of the Pyramid stage, where people are planning to stay all day – in this heat! – to ensure a perfect view of their favourite artists. First up is Janet Jackson fan Matt.

“I’m here for Janet Jackson; I absolutely love her and have always listened to her music. I’ve been to Glastonbury many, many times and I try to get to the front a lot as nothing compares to being that close and personal with these superstars – you can almost touch them. I was here yesterday too and I’m pretty sure I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Christine

“This is my first Glastonbury and I’m so excited for the Killers and Janet Jackson. I used to listen to Janet when I was younger so her set will bring back some special memories I’m sure. The Killers are a fantastic band too – I’m here for the Mr Brightside singalong and then I have to go back to my job at the medical tent at midnight. At least with that in my head it’ll keep me energised!”

While the chief put sunshine on the Pyramid stage, the Reid twins knocked out a Joyful Kilmarnock Blues you could have heard in Ayrshire. There was some banter, but not too much; there were some solos but they didn’t overdo it. This was a slick, blast-through of the big numbers as the crowd sweltered, swayed, leapt and danced in the midday heat. I’m On My Way was an irresistible singalong, Sunshine on Leith was the heartbreaking highlight and I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) ended a knockout 45-minute slot. The Scottish fans were in raptures:

What could be more ideal at a baking Glastonbury than a nice trip to the beach? This year the festival’s unveiled a 70-metre-long pier called Glastonbury-on-Sea, only, well, there’s no water to cool down in and from a distance it looks a chance to show off some high-grade decking.

For non-wood enthusiasts, it also represents the opportunity to be transported to any gloriously tacky seaside town, apparently from the 1960s. (In the queue to get in I heard a “lifeguard” say: “Nice breasts, I mean breaststroke” at a passing punter.) So there’s a sweet shop selling Glasto rock, you can have your fortune told by a man wearing a halo of stuffed gloves, stock up on souvenirs (branded socks! Lighters! Tea towels!!), play in the amusements, watch some Punch and Judy, and from the crowds of people perched on the end of the pier, it’s a great spot to update your Instagram.

In the central bandstand, animatronic robots reminiscent of the white lovers in Bjork’s All Is Full of Love video gyrate about, while a mechanical wheelie bin produces two boxing gloves at the touch of a button. And, if you’re keen to see your breakfast/lunch/dinner again, there’s some suitably rickety-looking bumper cars just outside soundtracked, like all good fun-fair rides should be, by Sean Paul.

There are also Redcoats dotted about. I spoke to Will and Jess, and both seemed to be adamant the Spice Girls will appear at some point tomorrow.

What are you doing exactly?
W: We are Redcoats, so we’re assisting people and making sure they have a lovely time.

Wearing really incredible hats.
J: Yes exactly. We’re meant to be emulating sort of 50s and 60s redcoats.
W: This is the first year and we’ve got it for the next five years at least. It’s an amazing feat of engineering. A lot of work has gone into it.

It would be lovely if there was some cool water underneath to cool off in.
J: Imagine. Even if it was just some cool mist spraying every now and then. I might propose that next year.

Have you been on the dodgems?
J: Not yet, but we’re going to later. I think they stop them at the right time, about six-ish, so before people are too pissed.

In honour of Janet Jackson and her seminal hit Control – which will get an airing on the Pyramid stage during her set at 5.45pm – we’ve been asking Glastonbury punters what they would do if they were in control of the festival. Here’s Ngaio, 29, from Bristol, giving her best Janet pose while she’s at it.

“I would make sure there were more stages making a 50/50 gender split and bring collectives of colour to run their own venues such as BBZ or gal-dem, or our collective which is called Booty Bass. I think the female run venue Sisterhood is a step in the right direction. It’s important for people to feel safe in a venue and not harassed.”

We’ve been asking Glastonbury punters what they would do if they were part of a people’s assembly on Brexit. Next up with her solutions it’s Emma, 22, from Bristol.

“I wouldn’t have made the Brexit vote during Glastonbury, I think that jinxed it. I don’t think it’s as common for young people to be aware of the postal vote and they could have done a postal area at Glastonbury or made it clearer if there was one. I think it was a strategic move to do it during the festival.”

Starting the day with homemade kefir in a proper mug in the Permaculture cafe. I would have preferred a coffee if I’m 100 % honest, but when at Glastonbury ... Also, apparently, it will give me flawless skin, put me in a brilliant mood and “might even make me experience the festival in an entirely new way”, and you can’t say that for a macchiato.

A Glastonbury institution: Manic Organic have been at the festival for 33 years, and I reckon their manic breakfast would keep you going for at least half that time. Ploughing through a huge plate of fried potatoes, tomato and homemade vegan sausage mix was a tough job when the temperature must be over 30C without a breeze, but hey, someone’s got to do it. Carbalicious!

A giant industrial crane spewing out globules of oily fire may not seem like the most on-brand look for verdant, eco-conscious Glastonbury. Yet there is a tantalising hedonism in the opening of Bristol–based rave stage Arcadia’s Pangea on Friday night – a chance for revellers to indulge themselves and to have reason enough to seek out the Healing Fields the next day.

Irish duo Bicep take their place within the crane, following opener the Black Madonna, as it rotates and spits fire, confetti, and shards of light on to a suitably refreshed crowd. Beginning with a selection of minimal, jittering deep house cuts, their seamless mixing is punctuated by yelps from the crowd each time a fireball erupts to the beat, before moving on to quick cuts of gut-churning techno taken straight from the DJ Stingray playbook.

It was only an hour-long set, and it wasn’t until the second half that things got properly moving, when Bicep showcased their own productions from their self–titled debut album, ending on the infectious breakbeats of single Glue. The duo play with a focused intensity that provides the perfect backing to their theatrical setting.

All weekend long at Glastonbury you’ll hear rumours of secret sets due to happen: Florence and the Machine are playing an acoustic set in the Crow’s Nest! Kylie’s singing with Nick Cave at a backstage bar! Is that Craig David drinking a protein shake behind the DJ booth? Most of the rumours are, of course, unfounded but the Park stage is reliably starry – Pulp and Radiohead have appeared in previous years, and later today there’ll be a “much loved British band” playing.

And this morning, it’s another turn from Sunday Pyramid stage players Vampire Weekend. The band were clearly pleased with the honour, and front man Ezra Koenig greeted the crowd with the line that “this really is the best stage, it’s the vibiest”, before launching into a set largely comprised of audience requests from their back catalogue.

Spanning everything from B-sides like Giant to early hit Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa and the obscure Finger Back, Vampire Weekend showcase a formidable knowledge of their own work but also the breadth of their sound, taking in everything from synth–pop to guitar-driven indie and highlife melodies.

Koenig’s falsetto is pitch-perfect throughout and the newly revamped band are precise and controlled. Rounding out the set with a joyous cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere, Vampire Weekend gave a taste of what is shaping up to be one of the Pyramid stage sets of the weekend tomorrow.

Sitars faintly twinkle over Balearic house rhythms as Kieran Hebden, AKA Four Tet, serenades a packed morning crowd either running on the dregs of last night’s festivities or the early morning sun at his breakfast DJ set on the Stonebridge stage.

Delving deep into the ambient selections that characterised the more serene, pensive moments of his most recent album New Energy and 2003’s Rounds, Hebden deftly mixes new age pan pipes into undulating breakbeats and washes of floating synths. With the sun shining over the Stonebridge tent, the atmosphere soon morphs into what can only be described as a neo-spiritual sweat lodge; dreadlocked cybergoths waving hands in the air, shirtless lads swaying like nearly-felled timber, perspiring couples locked in an embrace.

Not one to play to expectations, though, Hebden soon disregards the spirituals in favour of the thumping house that has marked him out as one of the UK’s most in-demand DJs and producers, taking this most varied of crowds along with him for the ride. An invigorating start to the second day’s music.

Everyone had been telling me I needed to try a Buddha Bowl (surely peak Glasto food), and now I have. And I can tell you that a pot of creamy vegan massaman curry and brown rice topped with steamed kale, carrot kimchi, seeds and (optional) grilled halloumi is nice... in the way that eating roast beef and prawn cocktail together because you’ve got overexcited at the all-you-can-eat buffet is weirdly nice. The pineapple hidden at the bottom with the potato was a bit of a surprise, but frankly, if it contains halloumi, it’s ok with me.

Tame Impala are in an unenviable position – around the corner from them a groundbreaking moment is taking place, as the first black British Pyramid headliner takes to the stage. And, when a burst of fireworks rockets up above the Pyramid, what seems like a significant proportion of the Other Stage crowd glances across enviously.

It doesn’t help that Kevin Parker’s psych romanticists aren’t quite providing enough pyrotechnics themselves. This is largely the same set the band played here in 2016, give or take a pair of recent-ish singles and some snazzy new visuals. It’s hard not to feel a sense of water being treaded. Still, they possess a few trump cards and there are a few arms aloft moments in the form of Elephant and Feels Like We Only Go Backwards. You suspect, given Parker’s restless, inventive energy, that when they return here it will be in triumphant form. And hopefully they won’t be facing off against Stormzy then, too.

Welcome back! We’ll be bringing you all the action on day two at Glastonbury, right through til midnight tonight – highlights along the way include Janet Jackson, Lewis Capaldi, Johnny Marr and Lizzo.

We’re still reeling from that five-star Stormzy performance last night, hailed by various random people we met last night as one of the best headliners ever. It really was sensational. On one level technically excellent, his flow utterly on point throughout, and his naive singing style appealingly immediate. But on a whole other level it was an emotional celebration of how far he has climbed, by just 25 years old, and how he has pulled a whole black British music scene up a rung or two as well. Having a Pyramid stage audience singing along to Shut Up – a freestyle recorded in a park – was brilliantly dissonant. Jeremy Corbyn was a fan too: