I’ve been a lazy bastard recently! I have neglected the blog, granted a lot of that was due to university deadlines having to be met. But otherwise I just haven’t been bothered to write anything. I made an attempt at a Premier league review, but I’m going to postpone that until I can write a preview for the next season. And I was also going to write a blog on the history of my sexual exploits, but then thought that would be too much of a depressing and vulgar experience to put you all through. So I suppose I’ll try and drag out a Glastonbury based blog before all the facebook photo’s get overtaken by some other festival I end up going to in the not too near distant future and Iplayer take all the performances offline, which I find is a bit like taking the Christmas decorations down in January. But anyway, this year was one to remember!
After missioning around in London for hours we finally arrived in the Glastonbury car park for 4 o’clock Tuesday night (or Wednesday morning whatever you prefer) by 8 o’clock we were in, by 8:30 it was raining, by around 9ish we had the tents up. Wednesday’s are always a bit of a blur at Glastonbury, usually due to lack of sleep from the night before- in this case next to none. And the impending stress of getting in and setting up and getting settled etc. Weather did brighten up though and had a nice walk around the site with Rosa, pretty sure the weather was fine for the rest of the day. Got really drunk then met up with the Plumstead boys in the evening I think. The homebrew had been tested and I gave it a resounding thumbs up, later though people were telling me it gave them frequent visits to the long drops. I get absolutely blind drunk, blow a score on food and have a vague memory of wondering away from Northern Al at the stone circle and being guided back to the camp site by the other half and Heide. Apparently my Bob Dylan renditions, sung in the style of the man himself went down a treat.
Woke up on Thursday morning to the sound of rain, fell back asleep, woke up again and it was still raining, only this time even heavier then before. I can’t sleep so I watch The Other Half and Heide sleep for an unsettling amount of time. But can’t help be entertained by some of Josh’s hand and mouth movements whilst he slumbers. From what I can remember the weather turned out to be really nice, and the view of the festival from our campsite was absolutely beautiful. We spend most of the time sitting around the campsite pouring booze down our thirsty throats and contemplate actually leaving for a bit of food. Me and Sarah then split to have a look at Shangri-la and catch a cool Danish, Bulkan, Punk band called Tako Lako. A lovely start to the weekends proceedings. Evening had then settled and it was soon time for Bangface, the mud was thick and squelchy but not acting as a problem. But before any of this we head over to the stone circle dressed as robots for the robot invasion organized by Liam and Ian, it's an absolute resounding success, with about 50 robots at its peek, some of which had put an incredible amount of effort. There was even generations of families there, grandparents, kids and grandkids. A nice start to the evening. So night falls and I neck a pill then very shortly spew it back up again, unfortunately it was half digested and cant be salvaged from the bile, I then quickly lose the effects, but stay to watch a damn fine Teknoist set, then bugger off to go watch Hobo With a Shotgun at the cinema tent, and mange to catch up with Dave along the way. Came out of the film with a great sense of satisfaction as it were the bollocks. At this time I have settled into the festival and get that tranquil sense of comfort that I am at Glastonbury and everything is fine.
It’s Friday and the festival has officially started, the forecast says it’s due to piss it down. No fear though we all have waterproofs. First act of the weekend is Emmy the Great, who I have seen more times then other artist at that particular festival. I was dubious at first about putting a folk act on in a dance tent which already has a reputation for having dreadful sound, unfortunately my reservations are correct and the first half of her set is marred by absolutely shocking sound levels, she manages to salvage a fair set though, even though it’s her older stuff that is the best performed. Me and Heide split to Shangri-la to catch Molotov Jukebox, although I get the times wrong and we end up there an hour early-it’s raining by this point I might add. I am cheered up immensely by the site of 2 barely dressed birds dancing on their own in this one particular field to a pretty good Dub DJ, me and Heide grab a drink, then set off for a little wonder until Molotov come on. Have a glance at Bloc 9 and confirm how impressed I am by it- A to scale sized council estate block with a London Underground Tube sticking out the top of it. Molotov Jukebox open to 4 people, us 2 and the 2 birds who were already there. “Hello nearly nobody” says the gorgeous Natalia Tena. Before then proceeding with a spicy set which made us forget about the rain, and made passers by stop and have a boogie to.
Don’t remember much of the rest of the day, although we find out that Radiohead have been confirmed as the special guests for the Park stage, and myself, The other half, Heide, Kush & Ness all head over at an attempt to relive the magic set that the half of them did last year. Unfortunately this wasn’t to be, an overwhelming amount of people meant we stood at the back, loitering. We count our loses and head over to the Other Stage to await the mighty Primal Scream, but catch a bloody impressive Mumford and Sons set. I reflect back to 4 years ago watching them for free at the Macbeth, and remind everyone several times that I liked them before they were famous, the site of thousands of people dancing and dosey-doing in the mud and rain fils me with an unbelievable festival spirit, and I can’t help but sing and dance along to ‘The Cave’. I scoff half a bag of mushrooms and shove a pill up my arse. The 5 of us get a nice spot for Primal Scream. It starts raining heavily. Primal Scream blow us all away with a performance that included the masterpiece album Screamadelica followed by 3 classics. Primal Scream prove yet again that even after 25 years of racking out records, it’s experience they perform with live instead of age. Bobby Gillepsie also proves he is one of the best front men around and that the best Rock n Roll band of the festival are headlining the Other Stage instead of the Pyramid. Loaded and Come Together prove to be the best songs of the whole set.
I lose the others during a trip to the toilets, after standing around looking like a lost child for around 15 minutes, I munch off the rest of my evenings dose of liberty caps and make for the Strummervile stage alone.
On the way I catch a whiff of an exotic sound coming from the Greenpeace stage, it is ofcourse the lovely Molotov Jukebox again, with an almost entirely different set. I gain some sort of sexual gratification from Natalia thrusting with a accordion, then carry on my adventure in the pissing rain, cup of tea in hand. It is now that I get one of my most simple of magic moments. At the time I found the ridiculously long one way system was down to my perception of time and distance being totally bent. However I walk through the rain alone with my head up with a sense of complete content. My head is completely clear and my thoughts are positive and creative. It is by far the most peaceful I have ever felt within myself for a very long time and one of the very few times that I am pleased with my own company, I find the whole experience incredibly therapeutic and cant take the smile from my face as I continue with my Friday night. I arrive in Shangri-la and poke my head into Club DADA to see that the Correspondents are tearing the place apart as per usual. But I trot on over to the Strummervile campfire, where Beans on Toast is off his head and serenading us with festival classics. His 2 new tunes prove that his song writing skills are developing more as he gains age, and ends with a beautiful low tempo version of ‘This Side of The Fence’. It’s the only time I catch the most charismatic performer on the festival circuit. I poke my head into Bez’s Acid House, but can’t help but run in for a massive stomp. It’s by this point I notice that my moves are the best in the house, and end up spending an hour throwing shapes to some phat Acid House. Another quick whiskey and I head back for some much deserved rest, not before finding Tom ‘the nonse’ back at the Torquay campsite and grab a cup of tea before bed.
Saturday comes! The day when I chuck the rule book out and get as busted as I can physically muster. Usually with an abundance of Psychedelics and booze, this year is no acception. Myself, my 2 tent mates, as well as Sarah and Sam started with a lovely cider session, where we roamed the greenfields, making penises out of clay, generally acting like the beautiful drunken bastards that we are. A quick nip back to the tent to pick up supplies followed by a trip to the Dance village to see Dreadzone, the effects of the acid we necked a few hours ago is failing to show its face so I neck another pill and by this point and I’m very drunk. Sarah and me then leave an incredibly drunk Heide in the capable hands of The Other Half and make our way to see golden oldies Pentangle. It’s nice to finally see them, but the acoustic tent has this habit of being just a little bit too quiet sometimes. We grab a beer and stick around for Nick Lowe, who I have recently fell in love with. And for no use of a better word he is ‘nice’ to the full extent of the definition. Pure professional easy listening, delivered with warming charm. We leave after half an hour unfortunately to catch Mumford and Son’s do a set at the Strummerville. I get a call from Ian asking whether I saw Pulp do the special guest set at the Park, this pisses me off not because I missed Pulp, but made me wonder that if the organisers could book two acts like Radiohead and Pulp, why not just get them to headline? Instead of putting Coldplay and fucking Beyonce on top of the bill, and having 30,000 people re-enact the Hillsborough disaster on a tiny stage. But anyway along the way I compliment Sarah on her fast paced determination to get through a festival. Mumford are running late, we hit a few shots of tequila, bump into Bez, wait for a little longer but then split to catch Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry. We arrive at the Glade stage a little early, and they are playing dub step, but it takes us about a minute to remember that the Chemical Brothers are playing just meters away. We catch the last 20 minutes of a hench set that makes me dance myself into the mud. Then over to an incredibly impressive ‘Scratch’ Perry, where I discover that I am probably the best dancer on the whole farm, and that the whole of the Glade stage is full of the finest hardboddies that Glastonbury has to offer, so much so it nearly distracts me from the excellent set.
I head back to the tent to wake up Heide, and then the other half quickly joins us where we make an attempt to catch Shoplifting for Jesus at the Strummerville stage. Although the one way system had other ideas and we was herded like cattle around for over an hour, which led me to the conclusion that the festival may benefit from reducing it’s capacity, but it doesn’t matter though, im coming up on a pill and remind The other half and Heide how much I love them, and how lucky Hedie is to be sharing a tent with the two of us. We arrive at Shangri-la in full swing; Shy-FX & the Ragga Twins supplying the tunes, incredible lazers and visuals on the walls of the place, atmosphere in full Saturday night Glastonbury mode, couldn’t help but turn to Heide and announce how absolutely blown away I was by the whole effort put into the place. A reoccurring feeling that I get every year from that area and makes me remember why I pay 200 quid for the pleasure of going. The rest of the evening consists of us dicking around and soaking up the atmosphere, pop into the Acid House to see Larry Love on stage MC’ing, although listening to him shouting ‘ACCCIIIDDDDD’ over a Dub step tune is quite disturbing so we leave. I have my cool moment of the festival, when asked what I would like to drink ‘Lagar or Cider?’ my reply is ‘I’ll have a whiskey actually. Straight, no ice.’ To which a random bystander compliments me with a hearty ‘respect!’. I feel like I could go home happy. The evening ends as the sun rises, and I tell Josh that we would do our naked walk Sunday night, a decision that even at the time I knew would be fatal. We get to bed, suck a few balloons and have a cuddle before passing out.
Get woken up on the Sunday by the beating hot sun, so much so that my attire consists of just my satin shorts, but also means that it’s perfect weather for a bit of bare foot action, although i notice that my left ankle has swollen to almost twice the size of my right, although i feel no pain, i get the impression its going to hurt next week. I don’t have many plans for the day, get as drunk as humanly possible, see Paul Simon, and then catch the Streets later on. Not before a starter at the Glade for Cassette boy followed by The Correspondents. Cassette boy are their usual entertaining selves, then The Correspondents wow an absolutely rammed Glade stage, which leaves me to think that my predictions of them teetering on the edge of greatness may very well happen before the end of the summer. I stick a pair of shoes on and smack a robe over my already burning shoulders, get caught short at the campsite and end up using a piss bottle, only to find that my piss is the colour of a malt whiskey. 'I haven't drunk any water in nearly 48 hours' I think. I then make an attempt to get into the Leftfield tent but it’s too rammed, so we decide to stop by the Brothers tent to load up, then make our way over to Paul Simon, which is my first and only trip to the Pyramid stage all weekend. The set is a nice summers afternoon set, a lot of lying down nodding our heads, before having a bit of a dance to ‘You Can Call Me Al’ other then that a few recognisable Graceland tracks. Nothing that rivals previous ‘Legends slots’ such as Ray Davies and Tom Jones the year previous to that. I’m almost entirely out of cash and getting pretty burnt and agitated in the afternoon heat. I head back to the tent to wake Heide and The other half up but they aint having none of it. So I snort a line of K and wait for Rosa so we can go see the Streets. The sound isn’t amazing for them, but there is a nice mix of old and new material and Mike Skinners pulls off a good one man show. They don’t pull of a blinder by any sense of the imagination, and it’s easy to tell that their time as an act is coming to an end very soon. A sign of the times and nothing lasts forever.
I split from Rosa and head off to Croissant Neuf stage to catch the Sunday night headliner-Neville Staple. An incredible set from an incredible performer, 60 odd years old and still skanking around on stage pulling out all the hits. An ideal way to finish a damn fine festival, I catch up with Rosa, Ian, the Nonse and Pritchard. We stroll around the after hours areas until my knee can’t take it anymore. I pop a valium and head back to the camp site. I realize that I have missed the opportunity to walk around Glastonbury naked, but I wouldn’t say the festival has bee a failure by any sense of the imagination.
The next day we end up leaving with more booze then we came in and I get my hands on a lovely pair of Timberland boots. We go home.
Overall a festival for the archives, the rain and mud helped the atmosphere I thought- separated the lightweights from the ravers. The lineup was fantastic with minimal clashes, my comrades who I served with were their usual amazing selves and without sounding too much like a poof I enjoyed a sense of moderation to my festival, and for once the following week I didn't end up suffering from any mental breakdown like i usually do, but instead had to deal with physical aftermath of wading around in thick mud off my head, and walking around in the blazing sun in just a pair of satin shorts. But I have to say even though this one has made its way into my top 5, I am looking forward to the break next year, for financial, phsyical and tolernce reasons more then anything, But I know by June i'll be having withdrawals.
See you in 2013 I suppose.
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