That’s it for the daytime liveblog – join us for our evening edition
We’re still coming to terms with that onslaught of positive vibes: Barry Gibb and Chic bringing disco anthems, the Killers generating the loudest crowd of the festival, and Haim and Rag’n’Bone Man commanding more people than ever at the Other stage. The sun is out as well, which turns Glastonbury into a big dopey love-fest. I want to just start tapping out happy-face emojis and leave words behind.
And the night is young – on our evening liveblog we’ll have reviews of Haim, Chic, Sampha, Biffy Clyro, Kano, Justice, Boy Better Know and of course the ginger prince of millennial pop, Ed Sheeran. Head over here for that. Thanks for reading!
Our eight-year-old reviewer Z has been the MVP this weekend, slagging off the seasoned likes of Ride and Barry Gibb with astonishingly distilled barbs. We’re letting her go get a frozen lagerita and see Ed Sheeran, but before she goes, she’s shared her appraisal of the Killers:
“7/10. It was way too busy to get inside the tent so we had to listen outside by the road. One man tried to run through a hedge to see them but the security people stopped him. All I could hear was people singing along instead of the band but they still sounded great.”
As Nile Rodgers points out from the stage, the last time he played Glastonbury was four years ago, on the West Holts stage – touring with a new version of the Chic Organisation was one of his responses to being diagnosed with an particularly aggressive form of cancer. Their shtick was exceptionally slick back then: four years on, with Rodgers cancer-free and fresh from volunteering at Grenfell Tower, it’s slicker still.
Rodgers has a back catalogue preposterously over-stuffed with sublime music: the latterday Chic’s skill is presenting it as a kind relentless, mind-boggling barrage, without slipping into wedding disco cheesiness. There are obviously omissions – there’s no room for Dance Dance Dance, My Forbiden Lover or Sister Sledge’s Lost in Music and Thinking of You, although they unexpectedly play My Feet Keep Dancing from 1979’s Risqué – but it seems fairly churlish to quibble in the face of a set that steamrollers the Pyramid stage crowd: We Are Family, Le Freak, Good Times, Get Lucky, Upside Down, I’m Coming Out, Let’s Dance. The crowd’s response is pretty delirious, but that seems only fitting.
Rag’n’Bone Man spotted out with his people, following a very well received set on the Other stage:
Kiefer Sutherland review: 'One of the longest hours of my life'
From time to time Glastonbury throws up a piece of scheduling so peculiar that it makes you do a double take: Kiefer Sutherland, performing on the Avalon stage is certainly one of those. What will he be doing there? Torturing baddies in the manner of his most famous character, Agent Jack Bauer? No, in actuality Sutherland will be playing with his country band, though the torturing bit wasn’t too far off.
Arriving on stage decked in a comically sized stetson and clutching a glass of whisky, Sutherland does at least look the part, and he’s an engaging enough performer, bouncing around the stage and performing the odd knee slide. The problem is his musical output, a series of stultifyingly conventional country and western songs riddled with lyrical cliches and predictable melodies. Things only pick up when he attempts a cover of Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, and even then it’s at best little more than a faithful backroom bar version. “This is the longest day of my life,” Bauer’s 24 tagline used to go. This was certainly one of the longest hours of mine.
Look who we found backstage at the Killers!
When asked earlier on about Jeremy Corbyn’s appearance, Michael Eavis said: “Wasn’t he fantastic? I said to him when are you going to be prime minister? He said ‘In six months’.” The Glastonbury founder said he asked Corbyn when he was going to get rid of Trident, too. “As soon as I can,” the Labour leader apparently responded.
Our own rock critic Alexis said that Barry Gibb was “one of the greatest sets that heritage act slot on the Pyramid stage has seen,” but that means nothing to the youth of today. Our eight-year-old reviewer Z – who continues to absolutely slay in what is probably her 10th different outfit this weekend – writes:
“5/10. He’s older than I thought he’d be! He sounds like a lady but he’s got a beard. Some of the songs were really really slow. My mum and dad were dancing to Night Fever and Stayin’ Alive but I had an ice-cream instead.”
Chic meanwhile have commanded another mammoth Pyramid crowd:
The sun is out and 100,000-odd people are dancing to the greatest party jams on the planet. Nile Rodgers is doing Good Times into Rapper’s Delight, and has prompted a stage invasion. VIBES ARE STRONG.
The sun is finally out, a rave klaxon goes off, and Mr Lover Lover, backed by a full band, struts on stage in a shiny shirt, waggling his crotch and yelling “Glastonbury! Ladies!” His pop-reggae was apparently made for this festival: an enormous crowd has assembled, and Mr Boombastic with its mega squelchy bass has everyone skanking immediately.
Of course, it’s cheesy as hell. On Oh Carolina, he is reminiscent of Tom Jones, and there is an interlude where he works the crowd like an aerobics instructor, yelling at everyone to get “turnt up” as his DJ plays a chart hip-hop megamix.
The show loses some momentum when it become clear that he is singing over the top of his own voice coming from a speaker. But perhaps he was saving his energy for infidelity banger It Wasn’t Me, where his Jamaican patois rolls at double-time, like the excellent MC he always was. No doubt Glasto has never had a huge field sing “banging on the bathroom floor” before. After the popularity of this performance, it may well do again.
“It’s a wrap!” says Harriet at the Killers. “I’ve never been to a show where an audience have been so dedicated to singing along to every single lyric. Properly overwhelming. They left the stage to a roar from the audience before their drummer came back and said something quiet down the mic which sounded a little like ‘keep the faith’. Bet he gets a telling off from Brandon backstage for that.”
At the Killers, “some nutter has let off a flare and the crowd are so loud you can barely hear Brandon,” says Harriet. I can clearly hear them from our backstage base and they’re half a mile away. Mr Brightside truly is Gen-Y’s Don’t Look Back in Anger. Our subeditor Richard Barnes concurs: “The Killers’ crowd was amazing; loudest I’ve heard pretty much ever.”
Our photographer Alicia Canter is down the front for the Killers.
More from Harriet:
“Killers fans are so nice that instead of getting overexcited and chucking cups of their own wee over fellow festivalgoers, the people next to me are putting a cool pack on strangers’ foreheads and cheering kindly when they look relieved.
“15 minutes to go and the hits keep coming. They’re now playing All These Things That I’ve Done, everyone’s arms are in the air, and it stinks.
“Mr Brightside is on now. Brandon is marvelling at the audience going bonkers.”
People of Glastonbury
Another in our ongoing People of Glastonbury portraits series, with Jordan Hopkins, 23, Tom Pearson-Comer, 24, and Georgia Meek, 23, all from Manchester.
What do you love about Glastonbury?
JH: Everyone is the friendliest person I’ve ever met … I could bump into someone and ask them how their day has been and they’d actually answer it, whereas if you did that in Manchester or out on the street you’d look a bit of a weirdo.
GM: I think that as well. Because you can randomly talk to another person. You’ll never meet them again but you’ll always have that memory in your head. That makes it fun.
TPC: I think the variety. You can come with mates who are all into different things, and because there’s so many options everyone can get about doing their own thing and then meet up of a night.
GM: My favourite moment was when we were tequila dancing. We were learning Cuban dancing at Glasto Latino and us three got right into it. It was really fun.
Are you strong and stable?
GM: No we are not. When I’m with my boyfriend...
TPC: I never feel strong and stable.
JH: Yes, but via recreational drugs.
Grohl or grime?
JH: Grohl all day. No chance of grime, I hate it. All my mates love it but I hate it.
GM: It’s all about grime.
TPC: Grime. Foo Fighters are not my cup of tea.
It’s all getting a bit sexy over at the Killers. Harriet sends this:
“’This one’s for the ladies,’ Brandon says, before launching into the dirty disco strut of new song I’m a Man. It is indeed for the ladies. The woman next to me is jiving as if she was Olivia Newton-John at the end of Grease when she gets all sexy and wears an off the shoulder top.”
Haim are meanwhile playing the Other stage to a similarly impressive crowd, and doing some impressive bass gurning:
Is it me or is Brandon Flowers super duper out of tune? Well, everyone is seemingly enjoying it. More from Harriet:
“Human goes back to back with Smile Like You Mean It. Everyone is singing along with every word and even the synth sounds. I’m quietly humming along to the bass because I’m an individual.”
The Killers' secret set begins
Harriet Gibsone is deep in the pit for The Killers. She says:
“And we’re off! Brandon looks extraordinarily slick – a touch of Elvis, a hint of vampire. They’re kicking off with When We Were Young. Everyone has gone wild. I’m sweating profusely.
“’What’s up Glastonbury! It’s good to be here,’ begins Brandon. ‘They say you play the John Peel stage twice in your career: once on your way up and once on your way down. It’s good to be back!’
“On the big screen behind them is footage of the solar system – it’s as if we are zooming through space and the John Peel tent is our spaceship. Lift off! I’ve been at Glastonbury for too long!”
Barry Gibb reviewed
The Sunday afternoon heritage slot is invariably as close to a guaranteed success as Glastonbury gets, but there’s a certain visible emotional charge behind Barry Gibb’s appearance. It’s not so much that he’s performing without any of his brothers – although an image of Barry with the late Maurice, Robin and Andy Gibb flashes onscreen during his performance of Nights on Broadway – but more what you might describe as the way the Bee Gees’ music has waxed and waned critically.
Gibb is possessed of one of the greatest songwriting catalogues in pop history, but for a long time, it was either reviled or treated as a joke. Not so today: Gibb seems genuinely startled by the reaction his songs get from a crowd you suspect are substantially younger than those at his own gigs.
The set never puts a foot wrong – it’s literally wall-to-wall classics, from the late 60s balladry of I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You to relentless disco pulse of You Should Be Dancing, to Islands in the Stream. You can hear an echo of the years the Bee Gees were mocked in the note of apology with which he introduces Stayin’ Alive – “we have to do songs from that film” – but by the end of the set, with the crowd chanting his name, the security guards at the front of the stage performing synchronised John Travolta dance moves and Gibb wearing a gold jacket passed to him from a group of audience members dressed as him in his 70s pomp, the note of apology is gone. Leaving the stage, he understandably describes it as “one of the greatest experiences of my life”; it’s certainly one of the greatest sets that slot on the Pyramid stage has seen.
The Killers, it seems, are still a big draw – they’re the not-so-secret secret act for today, and are performing now, having walked out to the strains of Teenage Kicks.
Oumou Sangaré reviewed
The award for glammest festival performance must surely go to Oumou Sangaré and her band. The Malian musician – and businesswoman, who even manufactured her own car make, the Ou Sang – wears a traditional white headdress and a fishtail red leather maxi dress, glitter and blue lipstick; her lead guitarist in a purple and gold tunic, her backing singers adorned in jewellery as they harmonise and coordinate dance moves.
Today they take the West Holts – consistently the best programmed stage of the festival in this reviewer’s eyes – locking the crowd into their hypnotic folk-funk (including, hipster DJ klaxon, Jamie xx). The combination of the harp-like kora and subtle electronics has a psychedelic effect, with wavy rhythms and calling vocals floating serenely into each other and coiling around your consciousness.
Her music is inspired by traditional sounds and dances of her home region, Wassoulou, but they incorporate subtle electronics, as on Kamelemba, a shuffling housey track that sounds as contemporary as anything you’d hear in the Beat Hotel. It hypes into an almighty jam where all musicians line up at the front, electric guitar solos fizzing and dancing arms flailing. Funkiest of all is Fadjamou, another song from recently released album Moyoga, with its hints of Marshall Jefferson’s Move Your Body. And it’s one that, she says in French, is about the pre-colonialism names that African families would have, to trace their heritage back through the generations.
They end on Yala, which positively whomps, Sly & The Family Stone-rivalling guitar and trilling organ underpinned by a damn funky bassist, who Sangaré brings to the front and announces “I love this woman, because I love strong women!”. And it’s clear the crowd loves them all too.
DAMN IT! Kiefer Sutherland is bringing his Americana to the Avalon stage at the moment:
We’ll have a review for you in a bit. Meanwhile, anticipation builds around the secret guest spot at half five... a huge crowd is surrounding the – AHEM COUGH – bright side of the sunny John Peel tent.
John McDonnell interview: 'I've got the Jeremy Corbyn chant stuck in my head'
John McDonnell has been to Glastonbury a few times but he was particularly disappointed about having to cancel his trip to Worthy Farm last year, he said in an exclusive interview at the festival.
“We were supposed to be here but a coup occurred,” the shadow chancellor, dressed down in jeans, a polo shirt and a blazer, recalled backstage at the Left Field tent. “People started resigning. I felt like phoning up Hilary Benn and saying, ‘Could you not put off the coup for a week?’ The timing was dreadful.”
But a lot can change in a year, and not only has Jeremy Corbyn fought off a second leadership challenge in as many months, he smashed the Conservatives’ Commons majority in the general election and this weekend drew tens of thousands of people to the main Pyramid stage of Glastonbury to deliver a speech.
“The response to Jeremy was fantastic,” McDonnell said. “We weren’t expecting that. I spoke at the Pyramid stage about 12 years ago, and within 10 seconds I cleared the field.
“Paul McCartney was here that year, I’m an old Beatles fan. We were knee-deep in mud. As I spoke on stage, my son, who must have been 8 or 9 then, was sat at the side being looked after by the Scissor Sisters and Black Eyed Peas, who were excellent child minders.”
McDonnell and Corbyn have repeatedly spoken about how Labour’s politics of hope has beaten the politics of fear. How then, I ask him, do you plan on keeping young people who support you engaged, without disappointing or disenfranchising them because you don’t have the power to put your policies in place?
“We keep on campaigning the way that we’re doing,” he said. “The general election campaign consisted of Jeremy touring all around the country, doing meeting after meeting, we’re now rolling that out to the whole of the shadow cabinet, right the way through the summer and into the winter, expecting a general election at any time.
“We’ll try and ensure there’s mechanisms for people to engage with us in the discussion about their community – what the issues are, how we tackle them. The manifesto wasn’t a completed work, it was for the election itself, so now we broaden and deepen that. In some ways the election interrupted our work, but we’ll continue to talk to people about their lives and policies that they need and then draw that into practical and pragmatic conclusions. It’s just really exciting.”
If you look at the demographic of the support Labour had attracted, McDonnell added, it was people below the age of 45. This included new voters, those in their 30s and early 40s who may have given up on politics, as well as older people who were dismayed by the Tory manifesto.
And the popularity isn’t just limited to Glastonbury, he said. “I kept saying to people, once we’ve got balanced broadcast coverage in the election campaign people would see what he’s about: an honest, decent, principled person. People are attracted to him as a result of that.”
When I mention the front pages of the tabloids in the run-up to polling day McDonnell laughs and shakes his head. “That sort of continuous attack by the Mail and Sun and the rightwing press does have its effect, there’s no doubt about it, but in this general election it was so far over the top in terms of criticisms, it was so exaggerated and unfair, that people turned off completely.”
So does he ever get the Jeremy Corbyn song stuck in his head? “Yes. We keep bursting out with it. It’s extraordinary.” Before bed? “That’s not part of the renaissance.”
McDonnell’s music taste is broad, and he was looking forward to seeing Laura Marling. Stormzy, he added, was “fantastic last night”, and Alison Moyet was “unbelievable, she held the audience, it was just an incredible set”.
He was also spotted at Craig David, I point out. “I was waiting for Jeremy to come on! Actually, he was alright. He’s sort of relaunched hasn’t he, there was quite a warm feeling for him where it was very critical before, he’s been through it, poor bloke.”
Despite the time-intensive process of smashing through neoliberalism, McDonnell tries to make time for interests outside of work.
“My ambition is to learn to play the trombone,” he said. “My wife pulls my leg about it. I’ll find time, my neighbours might not appreciate it but I’m going to try.
“Jeremy’s big thing is all the kids should learn a musical instrument. My musical career ended at primary school when I stood next to the strongest boy in class and he straightened my triangle.”
Here’s another of James Coke’s reports on the disabled community at Glastonbury. As mentioned earlier today on the blog, the ridiculously expressive sign language interpreters are one of the best things about Glastonbury, and for twins Mae and Fae Al-Kalamchi, they’ve transformed their weekend. It might be that I’ve had seven hours sleep in two days but I’m welling up slightly.
We’re both profoundly deaf and can’t hear anything, but there is a deaf community around you here, and you can have so much fun. The interpreting services are also really, really good here; now we know most of the songs where we didn’t before and it’s incredibly useful.
Especially when they don’t know the songs, the interpreters do such a good job of winging it. If the band change the set list the interpreters just don’t know and have to try really hard to listen.
When we saw Glass Animals it was difficult for the interpreters to try to pick up the lyrics just because the music was so much louder than the singing, but they really tried their best and made it easy to understand. We really commend them for it.
This is our first Glastonbury, and our highlight so far was seeing Dua Lipa, as it was our first time ever being in the crowd. My god, it was amazing. We went to see Lorde and then Radiohead, where the interpreters were really good. We’re also excited about seeing London Grammar on Sunday and also Ed Sheeran and Katy Perry.
Craig David on Jeremy Corbyn: 'All respect'
Hadley Freeman met up with Craig David just after he got off stage yesterday and his earnestness levels are off the charts, in a completely charming way. Just try to tear your eyes away from his masterful, seemingly laser-etched hairline too.
Julia Jacklin reviewed
Sunshine occasionally teases its way through an overcast sky during Julia Jacklin’s Park stage performance, offering, as her music also does, small rays of light against darkness. The Australian singer-songwriter is playing tracks from her sucker-punch of a debut album, Don’t Let the Kids Win, which is all about mid-twenties existential crises and the beauty in among all of the uncertainty, and plays out like a wonderful cross between Courtney Barnett’s dry Aussie wit and the alt-rock balladry of Angel Olsen or Big Thief.
“This song’s about watching too much television and getting unrealistic expectations about life,” she says – you imagine slightly sardonically – before launching into Small Talk, a song in which she considers the strong resemblance between her dad and actor Zach Braff. Continuing the theme is the delicate, dream-like Eastwick, inspired by her love affair with reality show Dancing With the Stars, while Coming of Age sees Jacklin’s voice filled with emotion as she considers the challenges of leaving childhood behind. In a word, stunning.
Rag’n’Bone Man meanwhile commanded one of the biggest Other stage crowds of the weekend. Similar scenes to Corbyn, where people had to retreat to foliage to find space to watch him:
Barry Gibb is bringing some serious euphoria to the Pyramid as he performs Stayin’ Alive backed by some line dancing security guards:
Between Corbyn, Solange and a giant sand sculpture of Theresa May running through a wheatfield, Glasto has been fairly political this year. But is it truly woke? Hadley Freeman ponders just that:
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard reviewed
The John Peel stage is packed to bursting for King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, which means one of two things: either Glasto is a hotbed of warlock-themed psych-rock fans, or lots of people have heard the rumours about a massive name playing on the stage’s surprise slot later this afternoon and are taking preemptive action. Whatever the reason (and let’s be honest, it’s definitely the second one), it’s a cheering sight to see this most singular of bands play to an enormous audience.
King Giz certainly have no intention of toning down their act for this mass crowd. All the usual elements are present and correct: 10-minute jazz wig-outs; manic, screeching vocals; visuals that resemble a lava lamp having a fight with an episode of In the Night Garden. It all contributes to a sense of wild abandon, of one last party before everything falls apart – which seems apt on the festival’s final day.
Our reporter Hannah Ellis-Petersen caught up with Jeremy Corbyn yesterday after his barnstorming Pyramid stage speech – here’s what he had to say about housing, Grenfell and Britain’s youth:
Laura Marling review
Dressed in a silk floor-length dress, with the stage and instrument stands adorned with ivy garlands and flowers, Laura Marling sets the tone for her lunchtime set by opening with Soothing. It’s the standout track from her latest album Semper Femina and starts as she means to go on; her blend of pastoral folk, country rock and hazy soul is just the tonic for those feeling the Sunday struggle. It’s mellow, bohemian and romantic, but never contrived. There’s no mistaking Marling’s steely self assurance, barely once furrowing her brow when she thrums her guitar, and singing deadpan lyrics like wolves in sheep’s clothing.
As ever the influence of Joni Mitchell looms large but there are echoes of Fleetwood Mac and Dolly Parton on Sophia, and Karen Carpenter on Once – all beautifully lit by harmonies from the two sisters on backing vocals. On the tracks from Semper Femina, meanwhile, a more elusive and mystical Marling than the one who used to wear her heart on her sleeve emerges, and underlines just what a master craftswoman she is. The Valley feels especially poignant – as she sings “Innocence reminds us to cover our drooling gaze”, the captivated Glasto crowd surely knows how she feels.
People of Glastonbury
Our portrait series continues with friendly crustacean Sam Preston, from Taunton.
What do you love about Glastonbury?
Freedom, mate. Being able to do exactly what you want for a weekend, spend it with people you really enjoy, around cool music.
Are you strong and stable?
Yes, I would say so. It’s my fourth year, so it’s easier to navigate around and maintain a good level of speed. I’ve spent a lot of time in the Beat Hotel, because I like a lot of funk and soul and they have some really wicked DJs in there. I also like the lighting, cos there’s a big canvas thing over your head. It gives you, like, an orange hue. It’s wicked.
Grohl or grime?
I don’t mind grime but, yeah, it’d have to be Grohl.
Yorkston / Thorne / Khan reviewed
The soothing sound of an acoustic guitar, sarangi and double bass is drifting across the depleted crowds over on the West Holts stage, just the sedate and spiritually nourishing tonic that Sunday at Glastonbury deserves.
This is a supergroup of sorts (but not Natasha Khan and Tracey Thorne as one passer by hopes before they start). The Scottish singer-songwriter and guitarist James Yorkston, double bass player Jon Thorne and Suhail Yusuf Khan – son of world famous musician Ustad Sabri Khan – begin their set with an epic, intense instrumental piece which fills the stagnant air with a sense of mysticism. It takes you away to a more meditative state – something that happens a lot throughout their show. There are moments during Khan’s haunting vocals in particular, where it’s even possible to forget your back feels as if someone spent the night kicking it and that you have only eaten beige food for the past three days.
Described as an “Indian-folk-jazz” group, it’s a set that’s varied and subtle in its composition, mellifluous and a little melancholy. While there’s no massive talking point here they’re certainly the only group on site to cover a song by Scottish poet Ivor Cutler, tell the audience off for litter dropping and whack out a tune on a nyckelharpa.
As the rest of the festival creaks back into action for one last blast, the audience remains modest here, but those who are draped across the grass look either enchanted or so deeply connected to the spiritual realm they are literally asleep.
Dropkick Murphys reviewed
Wool flat caps, pints of Guinness and shamrock flags are in short supply as Boston celtic-punk veterans Dropkick Murphys take to the Other stage. In fact, only the dedicated swarm of moshers right down the front – barging to every bagpipe-fuelled chorus – seem enthralled by their presence, with their kitsch, gallic-tinged melee only occasionally prompting mass frenzy. Even so, they play a solid set, taking in their burgeoning back catalogue as well as material from their latest album, 11 Short Stories of Pain & Glory, released in January. Highlights include the Ring of Fire-esque Blood, from that new record (“If you want blood we’ll give you some!” roars frontman Al Barr, his voice extravagantly hoarse), ye olde anthem Johnny I Hardly Knew Ya and, of course, I’m Shipping Up to Boston, pop culture’s go-to Emerald Isle anthem with its leg-kicking beat. Plus: Until the Next Time, a moving tribute to friend Micky Fitz of the Business that proves they can do sentimental as well as snarling.
Some of Glastonbury’s greatest characters are the sign language interpreters who help deaf festivalgoers get the most out of their weekend. Check out these two yesterday at Wiley:
Or this during alt-J:
Our own Richard Barnes meanwhile caught this ultra-expressive interpreter during the xx on Friday.
You can even learn to chant “Oh, Jeremy Corbyn”!
Real Estate reviewed
Sunday lunchtime at Glastonbury is a time of sore heads and uneasy stomachs. So it’s essential that the music at the festival during this period doesn’t do anything to upset the parlous state of its audience. Quite what the Other stage was thinking in booking shouty Oi Oi boys Slaves at 11am is anyone’s guess, but their neighbours at the John Peel have at least partially made amends by slotting in Real Estate straight after. The Californian band’s dreamy lo-fi jangle acts as a soothing balm here. Crucially though the tracks played here from their new album In Mind contain just enough of a strung-out, psych-y undercurrent to keep things from getting soporific. A lovely shiatsu massage of a performance.
Our news reporter Nadia Khomami woke up with Mike Skinner’s signature scrawled on her hand. Props!
She’s just interviewed shadow chancellor John McDonnell, so we’ll have that here shortly.
Together at last:
Meanwhile Stormzy’s drunken tweetstorm from last night is wonderful:
It Wasn't Me!
Ahead of the arrival of Shaggy on the West Holts stage this afternoon, it’s the return of It Wasn’t Me, our feature where Glastonbury-goers confess the worst things they’ve done at the festival.
“I lost my virginity at Glastonbury but I rushed into it. It was in a tent.”
“I had sex in our tent last year with muddy boots on. Mud went everywhere.”
“I spent a whole day in the VIP bar and didn’t see a single band.”
Our eight-year-old reviewer Z has been savaging the likes of Napalm Death, Ride and Foo Fighters – but like Maggie Rogers yesterday, Katy Perry had her in raptures. Here she is delivering her verdict with little sister and all-round hype woman V.
“100/10. Katy Perry was the one I was most looking forward to. She was amazing! I really liked her dancers in the eyeball costumes. There was also a funny duck on a stick in the crowd that kept getting in the way. My favourite song was Roar. I also caught some of her star confetti that she threw from the stage.”
We’ve been asking people what the most strong and stable thing in their campsite is. Answers range from “bum bags” to “tuna sandwich filler” and, this being Glastonbury, “a quartz crystal”.
Michael Eavis was the special guest at a Resist rally this morning – and saw a bit more than he bargained for:
Katy Perry was kind enough to do us a photo diary leading up to her excellent Pyramid stage performance yesterday – here she is going from chopper to glitter.
Eleni Stefanou has been to meet one of the most inspiring and bonkers subcultures at Glastonbury...
James Coke has been meeting other Glastonbury-goers who aren’t letting disability get in the way of a top weekend. Here’s Paul Hawkins, festival project manager for a charity called Attitude is Everything.
We work to improve access to live music for deaf and disabled people and we advise Glastonbury on their disabled access, which they do a great job on. They’re a gold on our charter of best practice, which means they try to be as accessible as they possibly can be.
When I was growing up as a teenager I wasn’t able to go to festivals. My friends were, and you miss a huge part of that social experience. I think that has quite a profound effect in some ways.
In my case I’ve got some issues around incontinence and struggle to empty my bowels and bladder properly. Because of a medical procedure I do, which is very hard to do in a long drop toilet, it’s been very difficult for me to come to festivals. But now they’ve now got these things called high dependency units, which are brilliant for people with complex impairments, who need hoists or changing tables.
Glastonbury do a lot of exciting things. They’ve got about 900 customers on this campsite, they’ve got a communal campfire and a really nice sense of community; people come back every year. There are about 60 stewards, many of whom have got disabilities themselves and they’ve often got the knowledge and experience to help give good customer service, which is a very important thing.
Around the site there are about 12 viewing platforms for anyone who would struggle to stand, there are access routes, an organisation called Deaf Zone who provide signing for people with hearing impairments ... loads and loads of things.
My favourite Glastonbury moment was when I first came in 2015. I was watching Belle and Sebastian, one of my favourite bands when I was growing up and I basically burst into tears – like I have now.
Dead Kennedys reviewed
For a taste of something a bit more cynical than the rousing rhetoric of Corbs and co, there were the Dead Kennedys spitting pure bile. Caustic at the best of the times, the punk provocateurs, now fronted by Ron Skip Greer after years of legal conflicts with former singer Jello Biafra, seem to have been energised by the political upheaval on their side of the Atlantic. “Donald Trump was not able to join us tonight. But he did send us the words of his next executive order,” Greer snarls before the band launch into a savage rendition of Kill the Poor.
Apposite too is Nazis Punks Fuck Off, which gets its second airing of the weekend after Napalm Death covered it on Thursday. Even the crowd aren’t exempt from their ire. “Each of you is responsible for one murder: of the recording industry,” Greer roars. “When the only thing you get to listen to is Katy Perry brought to you by Coca-Cola, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
If that makes Dead Kennedys sound a bit of a drag, rest assured they’re anything but. While Greer can never truly replace Biafra, he has a similarly manic energy on stage, and is backed up by a rhythm section that never perform at anything less than breakneck pace. As a ferocious moshpit forms during California Über Alles, it’s clear that Glasto’s new foray into heavy music has been a roaring success.
The Jacksons reviewed
As the velvety night sky sets on the West Holts stage, a retrospective video replete with slowly fading footage of the Jacksons in their prime beams from the big screen. It’s the start of a chintzy and joyful – if a little tawdry – performance from the brothers.
The antithesis of Solange’s understated set on the stage before, the Jacksons’ glitzy show is part Vegas spectacle and part hen party entertainment, the songs so big and the sound so weak in the mix that it turns into a mass karaoke session.
Performing classic Jackson 5 tracks and Michael’s solo material, it’s impossible not to feel the grandeur of hits like Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough, Can You Feel It, I Want You Back, I’ll Be There, Shake Your Body ... they are songs so familiar that you feel as if you were born knowing them. It’s not all straightforward smashes either: one bizarre highlight, for surrealist points alone, is Tito’s solo segment, during which he plays a few of his own songs while an image of his album artwork, a photo of his face, flashes on the screen behind him.
Just like the Bootleg Beatles, who opened the Pyramid stage on Saturday, you can’t really knock a show that’s so seeped in nostalgia, comfort and innocence. Even if Jermaine, Tito, Jackie and Marlon’s presence itself is not that much of an extravaganza, and even though they choose to conclude the set with an advert for forthcoming new Jacksons material, you can’t complain with such a catalogue of peerless pop perfection.
People of Glastonbury
All weekend we’ve been doing portraits of people across the Glastonbury site – here’s Fred and Morag Allen, from just outside Bath.
What do you love about Glastonbury?
F: I’m only here for the family. I’m not a music fan.
M: We have two daughters here, aged 31 and 28.
F: They’re now doing their own thing. I bring them here. Set up a tent for them. They require the bank of Dad.
M: I listen to the bands. I’ve seen First Aid Kit, Blossoms, Tom Chaplin; Biffy I want to see.
Are you strong and stable?
F: Not really, no.
Grohl or grime?
M: Grohl, definitely.
Our reviewer Kate Hutchinson wasn’t the only person who was left unimpressed by the Foo Fighters – Z, our eight-year-old reviewer, takes them round the back for a kicking.
5/10. They were rubbish and the man made some jokes that weren’t as funny as Basil Brush. I got a bit scared because my mum (who loves Dave Grohl) and dad took me and my sister right into the middle of the crowd in our trailer but we had to leave when it got even busier, which was good for me!
Our reporter James Coke, who has MS and is touring round Glastonbury in a badass all-terrain wheelchair trike, gives his verdict from yesterday.
The weekend is nearly over and what an experience it’s been. Saturday was just crazy. Here you can go catch KT Tunstall, bump in to two of my cousins – see picture – and then see proper rock’n’roll in the evening: my best moment of the festival was when Foo Fighters did Walk – love that song. Fantastic show.
I often attract people because I’m in a chair. A therapist who knows quite a bit about wheelchairs stopped me on Saturday and said mine wasn’t set up right and gave me some really useful information.
Everyone in the disabled field is together and it’s a real community. Although you do get crowds and crowds of people outside you can find a quiet spot or alternatively just fly through it and usually people are pretty understanding and make way. At festivals like this you just have to embrace what it’s about, whether you are disabled or not, get on with it and enjoy it.
It must be tough being a cool band – when people look up to you, they can so easily also feel looked down upon. But Phoenix manage to be both utterly, ridiculously debonair and also human. Coming on stage after a 30-minute wait for some kind of tech to be fixed, some of the fairweather fans have left, leaving a surprisingly ardent and mosh-friendly collection of Tinder-friendly millenials; the band’s stage setup, with a mirror inverted above them reflecting a light-up floor, will have launched a thousand Instas. Every so often they teeter on emptiness as on Ti Amo’s blustering cocaine-headache, but much of it is wonderfully slick – like good dancemoves rather than oil. Lasso is whip-tight and melancholic, J-Boy is all yacht-deck swagger, and Role Model proves to be a strong new ballad. Their boyish singer Thomas Mars launches himself at the front row, singing songs hunched over fans’ upturned faces – an image that shows there’s real warmth in their cool.
The bands last night
Foo Fighters let off fireworks and let their tousled manes fly, but our reviewer – and one-time diehard Foos fan – Kate Hutchinson remained relatively unmoved:
Over on the Park stage meanwhile were moody art-rock crew Warpaint, watched over by Rachel Aroesti:
Just down the road from the metal arachnid-based nightmare that is Arcadia is the Park stage, a hub of niceness flanked by the double whammy of a book store and a tea and cake cafe. Arriving to play up to that sweetness and light for Saturday headlining duties is Warpaint, the LA group with a neat line in pleasantly dissonant post-punk.
Kitted out in predictably hip style – including singer/guitarist Emily Kokal sporting the biggest white shirt known to man – the foursome are the height of sultry sophistication, shrouding disco grooves and punk whininess in a mist of spacey atmospherics. Their determined vibe-building does come at the expense of the massive singalong tunes you might expect from a headliner teeing the crowd up for a wild night out (the closest they have is the dreamy mulch of Love Is to Die), but as they end with the brilliantly PiL-esque funk of Disco/Very, Warpaint become hypnotic enough to make you feel like you’re on another planet.
Welcome back to Glastonbury!
As Glastonbury’s hordes emerge energised by Jeremy Corbyn and whatever they imbibed last night, we’re back to liveblog the final day. There’s the much-loved “heritage slot” in the afternoon, which this year is a disco odyssey from Barry Gibb then Chic, plus sets by Laura Marling, Haim, and Kiefer Sutherland doing some country. We’ll be reviewing all those and more, plus we’ll catch up with the people of Glastonbury as they enter the “fugue state” portion of the weekend. Join us!