"What's wrong with this picture?" asks Kenny Rogers near the start of his Pyramid stage set. "Glastonbury and Kenny Rogers? I'm so far out of my comfort zone." The Sunday afternoon old-timers' slot is a festival tradition, usually blessed with fine weather and an air of fuzzy bonhomie.
It's also a chance to see how seasoned showbiz pros can work any crowd. The snowy-haired 74-year-old country singer doesn't have very many songs that everybody knows, but he has such wry good humour that he could give younger acts a masterclass in how to win over an initially reticent field.
When he holds out his mic during the chorus of Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town and receives little more than a half-hearted sigh, he teases: "They sang that better in Morocco. And they don't even speak English in Morocco!"
He may be accustomed to more knowledgable and adoring audiences, but when you've been in the business for 50 years you learn not to be fazed. He somehow crafts a coherent set out of a bewilderingly diverse career, from big 80s ballads to the acid-panic 60s psychedelia of Just Dropped In (to See What Condition My Condition Was In). By way of a 60s history lesson, he recites the second verse slowly and when he says, "I saw so much I broke my mind", there are a few shaky nods of recognition from more delicate spectators.
It begins to feel as if he can do no wrong. He coaches the crowd into singing along to Have a Little Faith in Me but by the time he plays The Gambler and Lucille they need no encouragement. "So now you want to sing!" he laughs. "But for God's sake stop swaying. You look like thousands of Ray Charleses." He seems to find this whole surreal detour into festival life hilarious, and it would be a stony heart that wasn't charmed by his twinkly amusement.
He ends by playing The Gambler and Islands in the Stream for a second time. Because, when you're an old pro, you can do that kind of thing.