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REGRETS, I’VE HAD A FEW… |
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Mike Hanson, late, Sunday 27 June
…the famous line from My Way, blasting out of the Pyramid Stage speakers after Morrissey’s set got me thinking about what I missed this year.
This year’s Glastonbury has been, as Mark Sutherland would say, a triumph, and on many levels. For 6 Music, it’s probably been our best festival coverage yet, so big up the 6 Music team in London, and onsite – Mark, Julie, Adam, Jax, Joti, Kate, Mike, Mark Riley, and Lammo - but especially Verity and John who were the real driving force. As for me, let’s not talk about – a story for another time.
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"This year’s Glastonbury has been a triumph and on many levels" |
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Musically, this year seemed more successful than anticipated. Looking at the bill, there wasn’t much I was fussed about seeing. So I stayed in the truck and got on with the work. The first act I saw was Franz Ferdinand who were brilliant and have stepped up a league. Went along to Macca on Saturday night, mostly out of curiosity and the chance to say I saw a musical legend. Thought I’d pop along for a couple of numbers then head off and stayed for the whole set in the end. He was great – my only quibble was the order of songs. He should have ended on Hey Jude.
I enjoyed Morrissey and Muse. I wanted to see see The Ordinary Boys, but was producing Lamo’s Sunday show, and I know I’ll see them at the Summer Sundae Weekender in August. As I said, before I got here, I wasn’t much fussed this year. Any regrets now? Yeah, when the team came back from the New Tent, elated after seeing Hope of the States, I felt I’ve missed an historic event. And that’s because Glastonbury is more than the music. Where else could you wad a half hour through muck and slime to see someone you don’t really want to see and return feeling like you’ve seen the best gig ever. Only here.
It's a curiously similar experience to watching Morrissey to be honest. If the Smiths were our Beatles then Moz is our Macca, but to be brutally honest, Sir Paul has forgotten more about crowd-pleasing than our Stephen will ever know.
And now it’s very late and I’ve had little more than 4 hours sleep in the last three days. It’s off to the bar. See you next year (U2 as headliners? So I heard….I’ll definitely catch that).
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SING FOR ABSOLUTION, MOZZA |
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Jax Wood, 2345, Sunday 27 June
Dudes! It's getting late and too many 'part-timers' have already gone home, but here’s my final heart-felt blog.
So, Mozza … This one was more than a little nerve-wracking for many of us (I had the pre-match jitters and everything). I love The Smiths. I also love a solo Morrissey (on CD anyway … partly because I can skip the rubbish tracks this way, and partly because I saw him at Brixton last year and nearly cried from sheer disappointment). So tonight for me was a chance for him to redeem himself in my esteem (I'm sure he felt suitably apprehensive about this one himself).
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"I saw Mozza at Brixton last year and nearly cried from sheer disappointment" |
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And, thankfully, he did. He played some classic Smiths songs, some belters from his new album, plus some of his solo wonders. Yet his constant neediness was somewhat disturbing. I know he's a troubled soul, in fact that's what makes him so endearing, but I actually felt too guilty to leave and catch the last 10 minutes of Goldie Lookin’ Chain. And, as such, I came away feeling I was robbed, certainly deserving of more than the pained 50 minutes supplied. So I headed to the bar in order to heal my pain.
After 20 minutes of drinking in the backstage bar (where all the 'media' people congregate, get drunk and congratulate themselves on mingling with the artists without actually having seen any of them this weekend), I decided to risk trench foot and go off to see Muse.
Muse - hated their first album. Their cover of Feeling Good would provide the clinching argument for bringing back the hang, draw and quarter 'em system. But their latest album, Absolution, is fantastic. And live, they didn’t disappoint. They certainly weren't out of their depths as the headlining act, the songs were all there and musically they're pretty tight. But there's something missing. It's like three blokes, all with regular day jobs, who practise every Friday night in their drummer's pool room, found themselves on stage in front of thousands and decided to just 'give it a go'. Matt Bellamy alone would’ve been enough for me. And Sing For Absolution and Plug In Baby … can't fault 'em.
Now The Matt Bellamy band, that I’d like to see. With perhaps Morrissey as compere. It’d go down a treat. With me anyway.
Goodnight, goodbye and God bless.
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RAIN, RAIN, FATAL RAIN … |
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Mark Sutherland, 2200, Sunday 27 June
… It can play hideous tricks on the brain. And indeed I seem to have spent most of today trudging slowly over wet land, as the brilliance of last night evaporates in a haze of drizzle and last day blues.
First stop (after interviews with the likes of Muse, The Divine Comedy, The Zutons and Supergrass obviously - there's been no shirking here), Belle & Sebastian on The Other Stage.
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"Belle And Sebastian were a delight, skipping through a set of boisterous janglepop like it was Glasto 86" |
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While the sun shone, they were a delight, skipping through a set of boisterous janglepop like it was Glasto 86, back when the second stage had only just been invented and all the bands were called The Cute Anoraks or Fizzy Lemonade & The Bowlcuts.
Dog On Wheels and The Boy With The Arab Strap are particularly winsome, but then the rain returns and me and Joti run for cover, my Shaun Ryder coat ensuring I am soaking wet only from the knees down.
It's a curiously similar experience to watching Morrissey to be honest. If the Smiths were our Beatles then Moz is our Macca, but to be brutally honest, Sir Paul has forgotten more about crowd-pleasing than our Stephen will ever know.
For a start, his opening line is "Hello Glasto. Please don't OD until you've listened to our songs" - more than a little tasteless after yesterday's drug-related death. But the real problem is Moz's evident discomfort with everything from his shirt collar to the presence of some non-Morrissey fans in the crowd.
He fidgets and fusses through the early stages and, while it's nice to hear The Headmaster Ritual, Shakespeare's Sister and Such A Little Thing, they'd hardly be the first names pencilled in on the dream set list.
Things don't really get going until There Is A Light That Never Goes Out, when the crowd's suppressed love for the great man comes flooding out. As The First Of The Gang follows it into singalongamozza heaven, it looks like he might snatch triumph from the jaws of farrago.
But the unpalatable truth about his comeback is that most of You Are The Quarry is no better than the dodgy solo stuff he churned out to general disinterest in the nineties, and a set made up of both is never likely to send the muddy masses into raptures.
Everyday Is Like Sunday (crushingly apt for today at least) and Irish Blood, English Heart offer another tantalising glimpse of what might have been and then he's gone, leaving our timbers distinctly unshivered.
He could've been bigger than The Beatle. Instead, he's just another grey cloud on a disappointingly dreary day.
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SOUL DISAPPOINTING |
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Joti B, 2145 Sunday 27 June
I feel like Lammo yesterday - there's a bloody great rain cloud following me around, ready to open as soon as I decide to go anywhere.
This afternoon, as I went for my first wander round the site, the cloud emptied itself and we took refuge in a tent full of chilled out chaps with a very nice noodly jazz man on a small stage at the front.
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"Through their fixed grins they all looked nervous as hell while they twirled trumpets and shook their booties" |
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Later on, I went with Mark to check out Belle And Sebastian (lovely as ever), and was just thinking how nice and sunny it was when it started spitting. Two minutes later it was raining properly, so we decided to head back to base.
Too late. The raincloud was back, and this time it was serious. In the five minutes it took us to walk back to the studio, every bit of waterproofing on my high-tec walking boots and Peter Storm cagoule gave out, while my trousers were completely soaked from thigh to ankle.
Two minutes, the sun was out and a rainbow was over the studio. I'm trying not to take it personally, but believe me, it feels pretty personal when every other bugger is completely dry.
"Oh, has it been raining?" asked one unfeeling passer-by as she looked at my sodden self. Pah.
Never mind, I just saw Morrissey for the first time ever (strange chin, never smiles), and as someone who never really got involved the first time around, I'm just starting to see what all the fuss is about.
Don't tell Verity.
The major disappointment of the day, meanwhile, has to be James 'Godfather of soul' Brown. Sorry, Craig.
He looked good and so did his band, and they all sounded great, but it was just too polished. Everyone's moves were perfect, but it was as if all feeling had been choreographed out - and it might just as well have been a rehearsal for all the connection between Mr Brown and his audience.
And I have to say that I now give credence to the rumours about how the Soulfather treats his band - through their fixed grins they all looked nervous as hell while they twirled trumpets and shook their booties.
Frankly, the whole experience left me cold and faintly disturbed.
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A GRAND DAY OUT |
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Mystic Marc, 1630, Sunday 27 June
Make your bloody mind up! If I've had my trendy Lonsdale kagool on once today I've donned it 20 times. Sunshine/breeze/sunshine/breeze/sunshine/that fine rain that gets you very wet/sunshine.
Presently the 6 Music portaloo cum mobile studio is a very popular haunt. Even TV star Phil Jupitus is in here at the moment. Any port(aloo) in a storm is the phrase that springs to mind.
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"Any port(aloo) in a storm is the phrase that springs to mind" |
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I've come back for my Nantucket fleece (I bet that No Logo lady will be livid when she sees this missive) having left behind me the glitterati of the hospitality bar, which is, I admit, quite hospitable - but alas not FREE …
Where was I? Oh yeah, Neil Hannon, Howard Marks, Fran Healy, Me, The Zutons, Razorlight, Rhys Ifans … all the big names. It's funny, the allure of a semi-hygienic toilet - it draws celebrities like flies to … no, best not.
Divine Comedy provided a highlight with a decidedly Hannonesque No-one Knows. Expect to see Josh Homme in a cravat any day now.
The Zutons were great … and I've still to see Belle and Sebastian, Television and the Mozzfather. Not a bad day out in all!
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WOTAN IDEA - WAGNER IN A FIELD |
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Joti B, 1315 Sunday 27 June
Well, who'd have thought it. Opera at Glastonbury. But really, whoever did think of it should have thought of it a lot sooner, cos it's perfect Sunday lunchtime fare and a great contrast to all those boys and their guitars.
Move over Polyphonic Spree, this is the real deal. Drama, fat ladies, a big orchestra and they've even put their subtitles on the big screen so we can work out what the hell's going on.
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"If you're going to bring opera to the masses, perhaps it would make sense to follow Macca's example and do something with some hits in it?" |
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The ENO are a national asset and it's great to see them out of the Opera House and not have to pay a trillion pounds for a seat that's actually in sight of the stage.
I do have one quibble though. Wagner might have good stories, but if you're going to bring opera to the masses, perhaps it would make sense to follow Macca's example and do something with some hits in it?
Or even some tunes? It's not like there's a shortage of melodic opera - Puccini, Verdi, Mozart ...
Still, we'll let them off, cos they sure are showing the rest of the acts here a thing or two about voice projection.
Before I go off to gloop through the mud (at least the sun is shining now), I must just mention a couple of things from last night.
First, Hope Of The States. Genius. I saw them at 6 Music's Lamacq In The City gig in Bristol and they're going from strength to strength. They didn't pull the same ginormous crowd as the Killers, but, quite frankly, they were far more deserving.
And then of course, there was Macca. Now, I don't really like Paul McCartney. Especially since he did that Freedom song after 9/11. But I am a massive Beatles fan, and really, you can't pass up the chance to see a Beatle singing Beatles songs can you? Especially when there aren't too many Beatles left.
Not that Macca shows any signs of pegging out any time soon - he was energetic and sprightly as ever - but as he said himself, you can't take it for granted that people are gonna be around for ever. Deep.
After last night's performace, which I have to admit was an absolute triumph, I can't say I like Sir Paul any more than I did before. We could have done without his "fabs" and "groovies" and rambling on about lay lines. Plus, he talks reeeeally slowly. I guess all those years of being a total stoner have taken their toll ...
On the other hand, he did what we wanted him to do, which was to play a selection of brilliant tunes that are a much a part of the nation's psyche as all those failed penalty shoot-outs.
And we did what we had hoped we would, after a day of relentless mud and torrential rain - sang our little hearts out and revelled in an experience we're sure to be boring our grandchildren with in years to come.
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MACCA ON FIRE |
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Jax Wood, 1130 Sunday 27 June
Hello all. I'm sure you'll all be over the moon (sorry, the football fiasco is still haunting me) that I'm a little more positive today. Actually, it's better that … I feel good (pun intended. Sorry again.)
After blogging yesterday I set off on the ten mile hike to the New Stage to see Dogs Die In Hot Cars. How good were they?! I'm going to stick my neck out here and tip them to be the next big, ney huge, thing next year. Believe.
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"The god-like genius that is Sir Paul McCartney set the stage alight, quite literally. Mate" |
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On my way back I caught the last half of the Scissor Sisters' set on the Pyramid Stage. Lead singer Jake Shears, resplendent in a multi-coloured, relatively see-through little dungaree number, along with Ana Matronic roused the crowd in a way I've not seen before this weekend. They were superb.
Next it was Keane. Now I'm not the biggest Keane fan ever. I can see why people rate them and agree they give good pop, but I'm not really feeling any more than that, and definitely wouldn't choose to listen to them at home.
Live, however, they come into their own. Tom Chaplin's voice is beautiful (it even reduced the lovely Vernon Kaye to tears) and their set was … well … great pop. A triumph.
Unfortunately I missed The Killers and Chikinki, what with it taking nigh on three hours to trudge back to the New Stage, but I made it in time for Hope Of The States.
Now I'm afraid I just don't get it. What's all the fuss? They didn't captivate me, nor even interest me if I'm honest, and I only managed two songs before giving up and concluding my time could be better spent elsewhere (though in hindsight I was wrong, the Black Eyed Peas were on).
To be fair I didn't 'experience' them as I was apparently meant to, ie I couldn't actually see them, but to me the music should be enough. And it wasn't.
Starsailor … same as Keane. Not my thing but fantastic live.
But then it happened. The god-like genius that is Sir Paul McCartney set the stage alight, quite literally. Mate.
I can't wax lyrical enough. So I'm not going to. But in response to Miss Watts' earlier blog, "the fireworks during Live And Let Die were nice" is probably the most mumsy comment I've ever heard.
And to say it wasn't a massive Glastonbury highlight ..? She obviously wasn't watching the same gig as the rest of us. So there.
But that's enough from me. I'm off to catch Razorlight, The Zutons, the Ordinary Boys, the Godfather Of Soul, Morrissey and Goldie Lookin' Chain (my personal favourites). A good day then, I'm sure you'll agree.
So guys, 'til later. All together now, "Na Na Na Na-Na-Na-Na …" etc.
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MOVE OVER MACCA |
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Verity Watts, 1100 Sunday 27 June
Mornin' all. Apologies for not blogging sooner, but I thought I must put the record straight on Macca. Basically if that gig was the best thing you've ever seen in your life then I'm very very very disappointed in you.
Yes, he was a Beatle, yes, he's written some alright songs, but NO! it's just not right all these young folk singing along like my dad in the bathroom. A few years ago no one would be seen dead doing the Na Na Na Na-Na-Na-Na's to Hey Jude - it was very naff and a bit sad.
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"Dogs Die are a bit like Dexy's and have that Franz Ferdinand knack of being a guitar band you just can't help but bounce along to" |
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IT STILL IS. I think everyone's just got a little carried away with themselves and they all need to calm down. Still, the fireworks during Live And Let Die were nice.
For me, the highlights have been the little gems like Dogs Die In Hot Cars and Hope Of The States, who were both on in the New Tent yesterday. Two completely different acts but both genius- Dogs Die are a bit like Dexy's and have that Franz Ferdinand knack of being a guitar band you just can't help but bounce along to.
Today is my big day though ... I'm really looking forward to Morrissey, but am gutted as it clashes with my new favourites Goldie Lookin' Chain.
Still, I have learnt the secret GLC handshake so am hoping it will get me backstage for some Love Eggs action. The Zutons and The Ordinary Boys will be worth a look too.
A final word about tonight's headliners on the main stage, Muse, who people can be a bit funny about. The music snobs often say they're a poor man's Radiohead but I think they will put on an amazing show and they'll create an atmosphere which leave us trudging home in the mud with a warm glow in our hearts.
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NAILING MY COLOURS TO THE MACCA MAST |
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Mystic Marc, late, really late, Saturday 26 June
Arise Sir Paul. Sometimes it's hard to be cynical - even as a knackered forty-something with rampant sciatica watching a man who these days is as famous for his thumbs as his oeuvre.
But I have to say, I'm nailing my colours to the Macca mast. Worry ye not, the average age of bands I've taken in is probably 15 or 16, but when you're force-fed the likes of Blackbird and Maybe I'm Amazed you have to go with the flow.
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"When you're force-fed the likes of Blackbird and Maybe I'm Amazed you have to go with the flow" |
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I do feel slightly compromised - what with Paul being an old friend (we go back months), but he did the bizness and no mistake. And the next time he and Heather pop round to ours for a game of topless darts I'll tell him so.
The Killers were not unlike Hot Hot Heat, who, lest we forget, are a Canadian band fronted by a Larry Grayson doppelganger. (You remember Larry Grayson? Generation Game? Shut that door? No?) Anyway - the Killers I saw … yeah … they were alright.
The Scissor Sisters had 70,000 mudlarks dancing and singing in the pouring rain. No mean feat. Laura was a high-point. As was the singers knitted jump-suit.
It's 0114 as I two-finger type. I'm usually in rapid eye movement by now, but here I sit sipping, sorry - SLUGGING, 'JD'.
Festival high-point so far? When a load of chicks started screaming at me. The fact that Vernon Kaye was stood right beside me was a pure coincidence. Silly bugger thought they were all excitable over him!
Aww bless … erm … yeah … erm … zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …
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WHAT, NO FROG CHORUS? |
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Mark Sutherland, 0100, Sunday 27 June
Right, listen up, Basement Jaxx: this is how you open a show. Rip aside a curtain with strange animal pictures on, tear into Jet and get the whole messy, muddy Glastonbury site immediately woooh-ooh-ooh-ooohing and marvelling at the glorious stupidity of it all.
Confession time: I came expecting Macca to be hopeless. I hate his solo stuff, despise Wings and (whisper it) am not actually that fussed about The Beatles. But tonight is such a show-stopping orgy of upbeat cheeriness and staggering melodies that I have no choice but to salute his genius.
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"Tonight Macca defies the elements and his own inherent naffness to triumph" |
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It's been a funny old weekend. Frankly, after this, it'll be no surprise to get home and discover that Greece are better at football than France and that I've spent most of today in my alter ego of the fifth Scissor Sister.
But tonight Macca defies the elements and his own inherent naffness to triumph. How can he not when he has songs like The Long And Winding Road, Maybe I'm Amazed and Blackbird to chuck away in the first half hour?
How can he not when he can jettison natural final tracks like Let It Be and Hey Jude without fear of topping them when he finally does bid his farewells? How can he not when he even gets away with doing an (absolutely dreadful) new song "especially for Glastonbury"?
Of course the whole thing is cheesier than a cheesey wotsit that's just ordered a Four Cheeses pizza in the Cheddar Gorge branch of Cheeses 'R' Us.
He insists upon referring to us as "Glastonburgians", shamelessly tugs at the heartstrings over John and George, unleashes the pyrotechnics for Live And Let Die and even calls us "groovy" - but in a way that's his genius.
It may yet be his tragedy, of course, but not tonight. Tonight, Paul McCartney is a cross between your embarrassing Dad and a rock'n'roll god.
Tonight I'm Siskel, yes I'm Ebert and I'm giving two unashamed fab Macca wacky thumbs aloft. And tonight, we really should just let it be.
And all this, despite unaccountably not doing Silly Love Songs or Spies Like Us. Needs to learn a thing or two about crowd pleasing, that bloke …
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HOPE FOR THOSE IN A STATE |
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Mark Sutherland, 2200, Saturday 26 June
Depression? Misery? Unshiftable dampness? That was so last blog, darlings. A new mood of curious elation has swept the 6 Music camp.
Firstly thanks to a brace of actual, proper, none-of-this-Scissor-Sisters-nonsense star encounters. First, I run into Fran and Dougie from Travis at the bar and relive last year's post-Radiohead drunken interview with a, er, pre-Macca drunken interview. Smashing.
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"Then me and Julie collar the Right Honourable Noel Gallagher for a big 6 Music exclusive" |
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Then me and Julie collar the Right Honourable Noel Gallagher for a big 6 Music exclusive about last night's gig, why he's scrapped the new Oasis album and Liam's dressing gown. Smashinger.
Then, finally, a classic Glasto moment.
Hope Of The States turn a damp, chilly tent into the warmest place on earth: packed with proper fans, rather than the rain-avoiding curious, their superb The Lost Riots debut album takes wing and soars.
By the time Enemies/Friends closes proceedings with a great big gulp of truly life-affirming emotion, spines everywhere are tingling - and, for the first time today, it's nothing to do with that chill breeze.
This is a band who could be the new old Manics, the old new Radiohead and something entirely new all at once. Next year's main stage bill here they come…
Before then of course, it's a muddy one for Macca.
But maybe with the Somme-like conditions and all, that's precisely what we need: a good old-fashioned singalong of classic hits performed by a proper trouper.
Will our wacky thumbs be aloft later tonight? Stay tuned …
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MUDDY AND MOIST |
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Julie Cullen, 1730, Saturday 26 June
It's a queer start to the day, with Sister Sledge doing desperate disco in the relentless rain - and all before lunch.
As the strains of We Are Family float over the catering tent, everyone in the 6 Music mobile studio pulls their poncho tighter around them and trudges off for a cuppa.
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"Dogs Die In Hot Cars working up a sweat in The New Tent gets the festival youth out of the trenches and moshing up a treat" |
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It's an ominous start to a day that promises few highlights and no glimmer of sunshine. But lo! What's that on the horizon? Dogs Die In Hot Cars working up a sweat in The New Tent gets the festival youth out of the trenches and moshing up a treat.
Coming on like a spunky cross between XTC and Talking Heads, the 6 Music favourites thrash through God Hopping, Love You Cos I Have to, Celebrity Sanctum and Apples And Oranges.
It's all too much for the teenage revellers who are getting very sweaty inside their weatherproof indie Cagoules.
The temperature rises, as do our spirits, and for a brief moment, the rain subsides and we even start to believe that Macca in the mud could be a defining moment of Glastonbury 2004.
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THE SOMME REMAINS THE SAME |
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Lammo, 1715, Saturday 26 June
This is so typical. We get one hour off - to indulge in past times like sitting in the truck, or trying to convince producer (the famous?!) Mike Hanson that he's losing his marbles - and it stops raining.
Immediately we leave the truck it starts to drizzle again. I feel like one of those cartoon characters who have a permanent cloud over their head, which follows them around wherever they go. A bit like Echo & The Bunnymen or Travis who, quite frankly, are Gods when it comes to festivals.
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"I feel like one of those cartoon characters who have a permanent cloud over their head" |
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I'm not sure who's to blame for today's rain at Glasto. Were the Gods displeased by Liam Gallagher's coat? Did they look down from the heavens and think: "Not bloody Goldfrapp again"?
Still, there have been high points. Trudging out to the Other Stage first thing this morning I immediately fell in love with the singer of Rilo Kylie. But as Billy Bragg once said: "Then she took her red jacket off and I stopped loving her."
Great songs though and a good warm up for The Duke Spirit, who were terrific - including an elongated, rock-out version of the mighty set-closer Red Weather, which, according to the latest forecasts is the only good weather we're going to get from now till Christmas.
Sunday's other highlights so far: Everybody Changes by Keane (back from the States and more confident than ever) and Gisli wandering onto the stage in the new tent and announcing in a weird Anglo Swedish accent: "Hello. I like you."
Quite possibly the most understated greeting of the weekend so far. Hang on, we think Poptones four-piece The Others are knocking at the door. All we need now is Macca to "let 'em in".
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IT'S A GLASTO FARRAGO! |
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Mark Sutherland, 1700, Saturday 26 June
Ahoy and avast there landlubbers! The good ship Glasto is taking in water and it's all hands amidships, whatever that may mean.
The rain has been sleeting down all day, the mud is nibbling at hole number five on my trusty DMs and after yesterday's beautiful sun-sheee-iiine (as Sir Liam Gallagher would have it) and we need beautiful music to lift our spirits.
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"Being wetter than a haddock's faceflannel, drizzle is something Keane know all about" |
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But what do they give us? Only the worst day for music since Elvis left the building.
Oh! My! God! It's the Scissor Sisters (come on, no one's THAT gay) and a load of rubbish people that no one's ever heard of. Lostprophets give it a good go, even covering The Strokes' Reptilia to get the indie kids 'onside', but this is no place for metal.
So it falls to Keane to make us forget the drizzle. And, being wetter than a haddock's faceflannel, drizzle is something they know all about. Luckily, today we are ALL wetter than a haddock's face flannel so, like, I totally 'relate', dude.
And so does everyone else. From the jolly girls in sou'westers giggling at Tom's chubsome charms to the lads drinking through one hangover in search of another, everyone sings along to Somewhere Only We Know and Everybody's Changing (Their Clothes Cos They're All Covered In Mud) in a manner that suggests when next year's Glasto rolls around they'll be on considerably later. And on a different stage. And probably in a different country, judging by Tom's new stadium-friendly arm waving antics.
Still, Sunshine works its magic so well that I am writing to Michael Eavis to suggest that bands are contractually obliged to play at least one song about good weather. It can't be any more hopeless than his so-called cloud-busting machine, can it?
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SUNSHINE |
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Joti B, 1645, Saturday 26 June
Well after the 'everything that could go wrong has gone wrong' first day shenangigans, no piddling rainstorm is going to put me off my stride.
We have a car (finally), all the right passes (eventually), computers that work (just) and a good four hours' sleep - what more could anyone need?
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"Scissor Sisters are a kind of filthy cabaret version of the Bee Gees" |
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After a bit of web updating to the soundtrack of Sister Sledge on the Pyramid Stage (they're still family, apparently), we ventured out to the New Tent for a dose of indie tunage courtesy of Dogs Die In Hot Cars.
In a word, fantastic. Tunes, danceability and cool boys with guitars. Watch out for them - they're gonna be huge.
Caught the end of the much (over)hyped Scissor Sisters - a kind of filthy cabaret version of the Bee Gees. Can't say I was impressed, but the crowd were loving it, so what do I know ..?
The real stars of the afternoon, though, were Keane. Always a class live act, they surpassed themselves, and added to the charm of their set by being genuinely awe-struck at the number of people who turned out at the not-so-popular hour of 1530 to watch them. And in a torrential rainstorm, too.
As if to confirm the audience's faith in their abilities, just five minutes after singing a song called Sunshine, the sun did indeed break through the clouds for the first time today. The crowd cheered ecstatically and within minutes we were all taking our jumpers off and feeling that it really must be some kind of sign.
Of course, I don't believe in signs, but even so I think it's fair to say that the sun is indeed shining for Keane.
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WHAT'S THE STORY? NO GLORY. JUST RUBBISH |
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Jax Wood, 1400, Saturday 26 June
Hello everybody. This is my first ever blog. I wasn't going to write anything until I'd seen some bands to rave about today, but now I feel compelled. Here's why.
I saw Oasis last night. Rubbish. Truly awful. Liam was horrendously out of tune, the band looked bored to death and it made you realise just how dated their songs are.
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"In fact, he wishes (and if he doesn't he flipping well should) he'd written the Frog Chorus" |
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Some argue they're just 'of their time'. Fine. But if you're going to get on stage at the biggest festival in England and regurgitate them, at least make an effort. Perhaps even buy a new coat.
So we're sat at lunch today and the lovely Miss Watts ponders that Noel may an appearance on stage with the legendary Paul McCartney tonight. And it was then brought to light that Noel's apparently said recently that he'd better "watch out" in case he turns into McCartney.
He wishes. He wishes he'd been in Wings (during their 'more' rubbish period). In fact, he wishes (and if he doesn't he flipping well should) he'd written the Frog Chorus. I know for sure it would've gotten a better reception than any of Oasis' lack-lustre offerings last night.
Over four decades have passed since The Beatles and still Macca is going strong, having recently toured to rave reviews.
Oasis, on the other hand, are struggling after one. In truth, they haven't written anything even slightly worth listening to since What's The Story.
So, Noel, if you're reading this, I suggest you stop comparing yourself to the greats. You're embarrassing yourself. And, to be honest, you really don't need any help in that department, judging by last night's performance.
I thank you. Off to see Dogs Die In Hot Cars now. At last, someone worth listening to.
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THE STORY SO FAR |
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Mystic Marc Riley, 1300, Saturday 26 June
Hello - me again, mystic Marc. I told you there'd be rain - and so it came to pass. Nothing to do with the long-range weather forecast you understand - just my Mancunian intuition.
As I gaze into my crystal ball I now see Sir Macca taking the stage tonight, surveying 90,000 bedraggled mud bathers, and … as his thumbs go aloft - lo and behold - the sun will shine and the mud earth will turn to funton-esque foam … and all will be well in the world.
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"Someone needs to tell the lovely Polly that if she insists on bending down during her set SHE REALLY SHOULD WEAR TROUSERS" |
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I predict he'll steal the show. As he strikes up the opening chord of Jet, all gathered pre-conceptions will fade away and joy will spread like the smell of Falafel from that converted ambulance in the Bong field.
Here's the story so far, as I see it …
Elbow - magnificent
The Stills - very good. Singer looks like Bryan Adams and they are also Canadian. I smell a rat … love child of Bry and a princess perhaps?
Franz Ferdinand - on top of their game. Possible contenders for stealing the weekend award?
PJ Harvey - they rocked. Tho someone needs to tell the lovely Polly that if she insists on bending down during her set SHE REALLY SHOULD WEAR TROUSERS … Excellent, that slip aside.
Kings Of Leon - one trick pony alert, but it's a good trick …
Oasis - business as usual. Solid sing-a-long performance. Won't be seeking out the bootleg tho … Are Liam and Noel talking? WHO CARES? NOT NOEL I'LL WAGER!
Taima - Eskimo woman. She eats raw meat.
Duke Spirit - THAT'S THE SPIRIT. Great start to the second day.
Sister Sledge - sound bloody awful from here in the van!
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MARK AND JULIE ON THE 'SIS |
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Mark Sutherland and Julie Cullen, 0035, Saturday 26 June
Never mind the supposedly feuding Gallagher brothers, the just-concluded Oasis headline slot has split the 6 Music 'camp'. Jax and Verity are to my left muttering about how rubbish they were, Julie and I had a good old singalong.
These are the indisputable facts. They began with Rock'n'Roll Star and generally stuck to the fiercer end of their back catalogue (Columbia, Bring It On Down, Supersonic).
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"Liam was resplendent in what looked like a polar issue dressing gown" |
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Liam was resplendent in what looked like a polar issue dressing gown. New drummer Zak Starkey hit all the right things in all the right places.
And Noel looked a bit bored, especially during the oh-bloody-hell-I-suppose-we-have-to-play-one-of-Liam's run-through of Songbird.
For those of us with a decent view and no sound problems, the set got going on (What's The Story) Morning Glory and when Stop Crying Your Heart Out was dedicated to the England football team (in the absence, presumably, of an Oasis song called Learn To Take Penalties You Useless B*stards).
The Scots, curiously, get Cigarettes And Alcohol while everyone who watched in horror at their 1995 crash-and-burn appearance are given Don't Look Back In Anger.
It's not perfect, of course. Liam's stagecraft essentially consists of looking surly and chewing like he's auditioning for the part of someone 'hard' on Grange Hill.
New songs The Meaning Of Soul and A Bell Will Ring seemed like little more than rejigs of old Oasis songs (only less good). And good Lord, Noel really does look very bored indeed.
Except when he's singing of course. He does an ace Little By Little, lets Liam do Wonderwall and they combine as only the Gallaghers can on a soaring Acquiesce.
Champagne Supernova sees Julie blubbing into her beer and a final My Generation proves that Zak (complete with regulation issue Oasis haircut) is a notably better drummer than his Dad.
The rest of the team aren't having it of course. But as stadium rock acts attempting to rediscover their edge go, Oasis are still worth their place in the semi-finals.
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NO PICTURES, PLEASE |
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The Famous Mike Hanson, 2250, Friday 25 June
Working in the glamorous (yeah, right) world of media, I'm often in the company of 'celebrities' from the A list to the absolutely no list.
To be honest, it's not like Heat magazine at all. Still, it can be exciting to be around a really big star, and once in a while, you can bask in the reflection of the famous folk you're with. And when you're around it all the time, you forget how famous some people are, especially if you see them everyday.
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"So he pushes Steve Lamacq out of the way and we have our photo taken for posterity" |
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For me, it's working with Phill Jupitus and Steve Lamacq. When I see them at work, they're just guys around the office. But out in public, I realise that they are, in fact, famous. So, off to see Franz Ferdinand with Lammo today, and of course, he gets stopped all the time, and has his photo taken with his adoring public.
But as we're sitting there waiting to do a live insert into the Music Week, a guy who's obviously been enjoying the 'Glasto vibe' comes up to me and says: "Hey, man, can I get my picture with you?"
"Do you know who I am?" I ask, not in a starry way, but in a genuine I-know-you're-wasted-dude-so-I'm-not John-Malkovich-or anyone.
He just shrugged. "I'm not anyone famous," I say. Again, he shrugs. So he pushes Steve Lamacq out of the way and we have our photo taken for posterity.
Anyway, enough of me and my famous lifestyle - it will all be detailed in my highly anticipated autobiography A Lot Of People Don't Know This, But I'm Very Famous available in all good book shops soon.
Back to the music.
Well, I haven't seen much, because as the esteemed Mr Marc Riley pointed out, with the unique way the BBC is funded, I didn't arrive on site until 1600 Friday, but I did catch the first half of Franz (very good - especially Matinee with the crowd singing and dancing along) and a bit of Kings of Leon (didn't do it for me).
If I get a chance to get out and see more, and not get mobbed by my fans, I'll report back later.
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BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ |
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Mark Sutherland, 2220, Friday 25 June
So here we are, hot wing from The Bees in the New Tent, which provided us with the most surreal sight of Glastonbury 2004 thus far. In front of us in the crowd, four people dressed as… bees. With antennae and everything.
Surely this is the most hardcore of all fanbases. "Nah, we've never heard of them before," says one drone (no offence). "We just wore these mad outfits and stumbled across them. It's a fluke."
"Blimey," I replied. "Imagine who's watching the Barenaked Ladies right now …" Think about it.
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"Let's hope tonight's set is more '94 than '95 if you know what I'm saying" |
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Also spotted Noelly G and his lay-dee. "Fancy a chat later?" asked Julie C. "Nah, I'll be hammered later," he replied. Two words: "good" and "attitude". Let's hope tonight's set is more '94 than '95 if you know what I'm saying, Glasto/Oasis crossover "fans".
The old ones are the best, eh Joti?
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TURN OUT THE LIGHT |
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Joti B, 2200, Friday 25 June
Evening campers. Well, I understand it's evening. Inside the 6 Music tardis all norms of space and time are suspended - 10 people might go in today, but who knows how many will come out the other side, or what year it will be when they do?
I did get a hit of sunshine earlier - blinking in the light and the admiring the fetching pink of most shoulders in the crowd as Nelly Furtado gave good summer pop, but, back in the van, it's like the whole festival is just a figment of an overactive imagination …
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"Inside the 6 Music tardis all norms of space and time are suspended" |
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Of course, it doesn't help matters later when all the bands and half the audience look like they just stepped out of Slade's salon. There are rather too many sideburns and strange oblongy-bowl haircuts around here for my liking and I'm putting the blame on Kings Of Leon, strutting their stuff on the main stage.
Speaking of time warps, there's going to be an awful lot of deja-vu tonight, what with 1995 headliners Oasis on the main stage and 2000 headliners The Chemical Brothers on the Other Stage.
And for avid readers of last year's festival blog, the deja-vu even extends to Mark Sutherland's well-worn gags. You can take the boy out of Smash Hits …
Right, I'm off to see Oasis. Anyone see what happened to K-9?
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GLASTO 2004: IT'S A 'GOER'! |
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Mark Sutherland, 2050, Friday 25 June
Ahoy! Ah, the smell of Ostrich burgers on the breeze! The far-fetched rumours about the Gallagher brothers! The sight of Bez trying to blag his way backstage!
It could only be Glastonbury, the festival's festival and this year seemingly bigger, boggier and Um Bongo-ier than ever. Ker-ching!
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"My show was hailed as "a triumph" by no less an authority than, er, my wife)" |
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Haven't actually seen much of it yet, obviously, what with having to prepare for The Music Week (hailed as "a triumph" by no less an authority than, er, my wife) and all. But let me fill you in on what has caught the attention of the 6 Music 'posse':
The staggering good-lookingness of The Concretes' drummer! The amusing picture of Phill Jupitus at Stonehenge on Lauren Laverne's camera phone! The fact that our ruddy car still hasn't arrived … back after Oasis peeps.
Peace out, as we say in Somerset.
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