Reviews >Reviews 2007 > Glastonbury Festival

Singing in the Mud - "Bet George Formby didn't have to do this sort of thing"

The days leading up to this year's festival had not been promising. The week before had seen large tracts of the UK under flood water, and an absence of any really hot weather had seen punters packing gloves and thick sleeping bags along with the usual wellies and macs. However the early days of festival week had seen things fair up a bit so it was with cautious optimism that we descended on the hill of the Big Ground campsite overlooking the main stage. Conditions were rather pleasant as we set up in a very crowded location, but we are all becoming experts at squeezing tents into tight spaces now. The new scouse tent had made it too looking rather grand and a definite focal point for getting back 'home' through the sea of canvas. Tents up, beds sorted, camp made, it was time to go for a scout around.

No matter how many times you go to Glastonbury the scale of the whole thing sets you back a bit. This year it had got even larger with an increased punter capacity, and the new Park area had resulted in a larger site area too. The Park consisted of an open air stage, a large DJ tent, and viewing tower. It was miles away from the other stages through a vast sway of tents and thus had the feel of a festival within a festival. Lots of newer bands played up there and also surprise sets by the bigger acts were the order of the day. I would have liked to have spent more time up there but its isolated position meant I visited only for the Baggy Mondays DJ night on the Thursday. We spent most of Thursday hiking around the vast site calling in at the Brothers cider bar which is becoming too popular for its own good now as the crowds around it testified. One punter even crowd surfed away from the bar. On the subject of drink there were a few changes this year. Carling had taken over the bars and decided to put a real ale on which went down a treat. You could also get Guinness at most bars and the bar in the acoustic field had a good selection of real ales on tap, and just a short walk from our camp. Just the thing for a hearty breakfast. In the main things were pretty much the same as times before, though I made a conscious effort to do a few different things this year. On Thursday we went to look at the new red light zone area complete with US style gay bar, watched a steel band, and took in the spectacular fire show, though this seemed to involve as much water as fire and also a bit of nudity. The more intrepid of us also booked in for an hour long yoga session on the Friday morning, and here's Steve to tell you all about it.

It seemed like a good idea on Thursday afternoon, but after a heavy night and a brain frazzled by intoxicants and lobsters being set on fire by crabs, the prospect of getting up early Friday morning to face the trudge across to the healing fields for Yoga Class at the ungodly hour of 10:00am seemed traumatic to say the least. We made it though - just - but sitting on the carpet taking off my muddy boots in readiness for an hour of yoga, I did wonder what the feck I was doing sitting amongst a group of people dressed for the occasion in loose fitting clothes and looking like they knew what they were doing. It was at this point that I think the instructor knew we weren't yoga devotees when he spied Robs' "Knight Rider" t-shirt. Still it's all about the taking part and getting something out of it. I was looking forward to doing a bit of stretching and then a bit of relaxing - hopefully not falling asleep - and feeling at peace with the world afterwards. A rude awakening indeed. After a gentle(ish) introduction with some stretching - the sort of thing you'd do before a footy match - we were having to shake ourselves rather vigorously (for me this equated to a personal silent disco as I realised that I was dancing, and its a good job Ivan wasn't there, or he would have rattled from the intake the night before). This part of the routine culminated in jumping up and down 108 times - resulting in me hitting my head on the timber A-frame of the tent at least three times. This was turning out to be bloody hard work and I was getting up a sweat. Still, the sun started to shine in my mind as I looked out of the tent and noticed a group of people outside in the field doing Tai Chi. It was absolutely arsing it down out there and they were completely soaked - one of the funniest things I saw all festival! The mood was lightened further when some random freak came into the tent to escape the downpour, took off his boots and started doing his own exercise routine independently of anything we were doing.

After all the jumping up and down, I was ready for some relaxation. I wasn't getting any though, as we started to get involved in some rather complicated stretching routines combined with breathing exercises. After consuming a fair amount of tobacco and related products the previous night, and all the jumping up and down - controlled breathing just wasn't going to happen. And the exercises, bloody hell, put your left knee outside your arm, but keep your foot under your stomach whilst leaning forward to touch the floor with your nose and controlling your breathing - give me the hokey cokey any time. No wonder the instructor had to come over to show the "lady in the jeans" how it was done. If he had a dunce’s hat, I think he would have used it. He then asked for the time. I told him it was almost 11 and we started to wind things up (at this point I must confess it was only just past 10:50 - but I was knackered and had had enough!). Verdict - well, in a bizarre way, it was quite a highlight, and about half an hour afterwards I felt absolutely great, but it was bloody hard work.

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Now on to the music.

Reverend and the Makers - What the hell is a dog salad and which stall is selling it?

Observant folk reading this review would have noticed the word downpour. Yes if one word is used to sum up Friday it would have be rain I'm afraid. Things started brightly though. The Other Stage was the first destination - easily my favourite location on site - to see up and comers Reverend and the Makers. The band really revolve around one man, singer, preacher and poet John McClure. A decent early morning crowd assembles under sunny skies to watch them no doubt largely on the strength of debut chart bothering single 'Heavyweight champion of the World' which is played early on today. In between the anthemic observational type indie pop stuff he breaks off to do some John Cooper Clark 'esque street poetry which adds a different element to the band. Playing the best of forthcoming album 'The state of Things' they appear to have a knack for commenting on a lot of things witnessed personally, wanabees and hangers on, Brits on the piss abroad, and extra matrimonial activities. All this is done in a myriad of musical styles. A very entertaining start to the day. On the face of it the Cribs should not really have succeeded at Glasto. Their tendancy to slag more established acts and a no compromise live style more suited to clubs are not really ingredients for a successful festival slot. But surprise surprise, the little blighters seize the moment and rattle out 10 or so songs of the highest quality spanning their 3 albums. Indeed on listening to their set I note just how anthemic some of their tunes are, 'Martell' for example with its singalong chorus, and opener, the hipster baiting 'Hey Scensters'. Nothing however comes close to the current single 'Man's needs' one of the finest slabs of indie pop you will hear all year. Its an intense set and it ends in a riot of stage diving and smashed guitars and drums with 'Wrong way to Be' Everything a festival set should be, Glastonbury loved 'em.

So far so dry then, however storm clouds rolled in immediately after the Cribs and it lashed it down for half an hour solid causing me to miss Modest Mouse's set complete with Johnny Marr on guitar. I returned to dry out just in time to see The Automatic run through a highly entertaining set featuring the best of explosive album 'Not accepted Anywhere' Keyboard player and general mentalist Pennie is the star of the show, at one point he looks like he will explode and i'm sure he must be breakfasting on the E number fest of space dust and coloured slush puppies (why are the raspberry ones blue?). 'Monster' is the song everyone wants to hear, but 'Raoul' and 'Recover' are equally as good, but best of all is the manic cover of Kayne West's 'Golddigga'. Word perfect it is yet more proof white boys can rap. Or perhaps not. Going in a complete opposite Conor Oberst takes his Bright Eyes in a laid back country rock direction, which whilst interesting, does get a bit self indulgent and drag on. Mindful of the controversy he caused last time out when ranting about Live 8, he says practically nothing. Oh and it rains again. By this time things are getting a bit depressing and soggy but we are about to have out spirits lifted by the Super Furry Animals. You know its going to be a good show when singer Gruff Rhys dons a Power Rangers helmet to sing opener 'Slow Life' They follow this with an hour of stone(r) cold great tunes, the psychdelia of 'Rings around the World', the glam rock of 'Golden Retriever', the Brit Pop of 'Ice Hockey Hair', and the vocally synthesized 'Juxtoposed with You'. Halfway through they play a gorgeous 'Hello Sunshine', the grey clouds part, and out comes the big yellow fella. It's a moment that can only happen at Glastonbury. Even this highlight is topped by a final rock through of signature tune 'Man don't give a Fuck' and the loud, sustained applause has never been more merited.

By now the rain has interacted with 150,000 pairs of wellies and Glasto is as usual turning into a giant ploughed field. The good news is that the weather has been responsible for a new word - 'Slodge' - the act of walking through Glastonbury mud to get, well anywhere really. (Pay attention at the back Oxford English Dictionary). This word will feature a bit from now on. Having been through 2 mud years last time out, we are getting an unwanted hat trick, and I slodge my way to the Pyramid Stage to sink down and watch Bloc Party. With a newish album to play, plus the best of a classic debut, this lot are becoming one of the most dependable festival bands of recent years. When they first started I thought of them as a bit of an indie art rock band with nothing to pick them out from the crowd of similar acts. However on repeated listens they have grown on me and do have a few classic tunes to play. More than this they are really great technical players and all have definite muso leanings, especially guitarist Russell. They are sort of a Rush for the indie generation. None of this disguises the fact that new album 'Weekend in the City' whilst being a strong release, is a tad too black and depressing to lend itself to live performance. Instead it is the songs from 'Silent Alarm' which stand out. 'Like eating Glass' and 'Positive Tension' are excellent but it is the twin assault of 'Banquet' and best tune 'Helicopter' that hit home today. Overall they go down well on the main stage in front of a huge crowd. Also with elements of art to his performance is Rufus Wainwright who glides effortlessly through an hour of the campest and grandest pop this side of the Pet Shop Boys. His stuff is really varied though, some of the social comment tunes on acclaimed album 'Want One' remind me of Radiohead, especially 'Pretty Things'. There are also echoes of surely his biggest hero Elton John. The camp stuff reaches its climax during the Judy Garland inspired encore when he does a full on drag cabaret performance. Stunning, and well worth the long slodge round from the Pyramid.

Arcade Fire - More folk onstage than most band's roadcrews.

Apparently this is the debut of The Arcade Fire at Glastonbury (Well they just all wouldn't fit into the Peel Tent). A huge crowd, one of the largest ever assembled at the other stage, is present as lone new album single 'Black Mirror' kicks off proceedings. The show then is really run as a game of 2 halves. Early on they run through most of the new album 'The Neon Bible', showcasing they vast array of both personnel and musical instruments at their disposal. This is punctuated only by debut album track 'Crown of Love'. Fans of 'Funeral' are well satisfied by the latter part of the performance where the 'Neigbourhood' tracks make an appearance along with a stunning 'Rebellion, Lies'. It is an epic, almost perfect performance and there is something special about hearing it amongst a Glastonbury crowd. The only criticism is that they didn't include some of the cover versions they have been playing at other venues (including stuff by the Smiths, New Order and The Clash). They save the best 'till last, the mass singalong to 'Wake up' being heard as far away as Bristol (probably). Then just when we think its over the chanting part of the song gives way to the jazzy pop ending salvo, and then they are gone. Superb. In truth anything following on from this is bound to be an anti climax, but bless her, Bjork at least puts on a proper show, with huge band, dancers and costume changes. Perhaps she is substituting for the absent Kylie who was once rumoured to be headlining tonight originally. Sad to say then that the music is pretty dull, nice but dull. You either get her manic warbling or not and I'm afraid I fall into the latter category. So I call it quits and In truth I am knackered after a long muddy slodge, and with a long way to go its time for a wander around the site. Sadly the elements win too here and heading for the tents, that's it for day one.

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Heavy overnight rain has given us a lakeside view from our tents on waking up on Saturday morning. Well not quite but an enormous puddle has formed to the right of the Pyramid stage so we prepare for another day of mud slodging. Thank god for the Wherry Ale to take my mind off it. There was a bit of early Pyramid action in the shape of Seasick Steve, a remarkable old blues player who uses a guitar with only 2 strings. Gimmick or not, the jury is currently getting bribed in the pub over lunch, but certainly there are some good ole authentic blues tunes on offer and these complement the real ale nicely. In fact as yet more rain falls I am happy to sit in the tent drinking and chilling out and it is past one when I slodge my way to the Other stage to see the Long Blondes. Long touted as the next big thing by the NME it hasn't quite panned out that way for the Sheffield lot. The debut album has got some good tunes on but it wasn't the brilliant package some of the music press would have you believe and they are perhaps victims of hype. They connect today though with their bittersweet melodies fighting against the rain and ultimately triumphing with 'Once and never Again' one of the best pop songs of the last year.

Biffy Clyro - "Who cares about a bit of rain you soft English Poofs"

Its time for one of the highlights now. Up until last year Biffy Clyro were a competent rock band from Scotland with a devoted if smallish following. However new album 'Puzzle' has changed all that overnight and now they are a big draw on the Other Stage drawing in a large crowd. The set is on the short side due to en evening gig in Paris, and singer Simon Neil says little throughout, but there is no denying the power of the new record, surely one of the best of 2007. Best thing by far is recent single 'Living is a problem because everyone Dies' with its stop start intro played to perfection. 'Saturday Superhouse' and forthcoming single 'Folding Stars' are great too. Listening to them, it is amazing how American they sound, their tried and tested quiet, loud, quiet, and fucking loud style should see them having a decent crack at the States later in the year. The heaviest thing on offer bar tonight's headliners they are a great example of how good this music is heard in a festival context. Now go and see their own show. Wanting to keep the energy levels up a bit I put my faith in You say party! we say die! over new ravers CSS. This lot are a Canadian garage band well known for their guerilla gigs often playing in fan's homes. The are a kind of mix of the best of recent garage bands the White Stripes, Hives and Subways, but also have a nod to the earlier stripped down noise of tonight's headliners, the Stooges. Though their songs are not up to the mark of some of these bands they play a decent set, one obvious difference is the presence of a girl singer, and some of the stuff is a bit like a more polished Yeah yeah yeahs. Worth checking out.

Hype in music can work on several levels. It can for example create excitement about an act that makes the subsequent live show electric. It can also turn unaware folk on to music, which is of course good. Not so positive is a band failing to live up to the public acclaim. This usually is no fault of the band and more the British way of build 'em up, then knock 'em down. It takes a special act to transcend hype, and the inevitable cynicism that follows. Indeed many a promising band has fallen by the wayside (anyone remember Gay Dad?). Klaxons fall between two stools. They have the songs and a decent debut album, but no way is their stuff purely rave. They are really victims of the NME's desire to create a new genre, new rave, which isn't really out there. Klaxons carry the torch for this movement when really they are a tuneful indie act. Live they are ok but fall today under the weight of expectation of a huge crowd wanting to wave glowsticks (Come on people its 5 o clock on a summer's afternoon) and dance. They also seem a little overawed, and simply go through the motions. A shame because I like them but feel that a large tent after midnight would have been a better option. Still lots of people really enjoyed them which at a festival is a case of 'Job done'. A certain amount of hype is also responsible for punters packing into the Peel tent for the Pigeon Detectives, but this time it pays off. Gloriously. Last year's festival appearances marked them out for big things. Now with an excellent debut album behind them plus hit singles they deliver live. Right from the off the focus is on mental lead singer Matt as he goes into the crowd, climbs the speakers and engages in banter with the audience (it's his birthday apparently). Chants of Yorkshire Yorkshire also ring out across Somerset. The songs make it great though, the chanted vocals of 'Romantic Type' and the singalong to MTV fave 'I found out'. Best of all is set closer recent single 'I'm not Sorry' when the BBC tunes in live to see the whole tent bouncing up and down to a quality tune and Matt disappearing into the crowd yet again whilst keeping the singing going. That was the sound of a band realising their early promise. Headliners in 2008.

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High quality control is maintained over on the Other Stage by Maximo Park who turn out the best of the new album with choice cuts from 'A certain Trigger'. 'Graffiti', 'Apply some Pressure', 'Girls who play Guitars', 'Limassol', 'Books from Boxes', 'Going Missing'. All great festival tunes and there are not many recent bands with such a repertoire, and I include Razorlight and the Killers in this. Paul Smith has an engaging stage manner and coupled with his livewire antics he is a great foil for the rest of the rather static instrumentalists. Like Doves in 2004 and the Killers in 2005 its the feelgood set of the festival. Undoubtedly the biggest attraction of the festival for me was Editors. First album 'The Back Room' was a journey into dark gloomy rock beloved of the band's heroes Joy Division. Now with an acclaimed new album just about to be unleashed I was looking forward to seeing how the band had progressed over the last 2 years. It has to be said they are an unfussy lot, they simply amble on stage pick up their instruments and get playing. They start with familiar stuff 'Blood' and 'Sparks' mixed in with the title track of new opus 'An end has a start'. Despite the unassuming nature of the band both guitarist Chris and especially singer Tom have star quality in abundance. The new tunes reveal a much more epic nature to their material which peaks with superb new single 'Smokers outside the Hospital Doors'. However best of all is slower number 'Weight of the World' with singer Smith sat at a piano Chris Martin style. With a new celebrity girlfriend in tow, perhaps he is leading Editors towards Coldplay's kings of Glastonbury crown. Whatever, this lot will be high up on the Pyramid stage next year. until then we have 'Munich' and 'Bullets' to keep us happy.

The Stooges - Iggy never worries about what he will wear on stage

So what could really follow a set as good as that? How about the godfather of grunge, garage and, oh fuck it, the godfather of just about everything else as well, Sir Iggy Pop. Its a Stooges show tonight so we do not get any solo stuff just a load of bona fide dirty classics like 'I wanna be your dog', '1969', and a smoldering 'TV Eye'. There are a few new songs which veer towards yellow card territory but, hey, you show it to him. Iggy is as manic as ever, all over the PA Stacks, shagging his mike stand (its a heated debate which is thinner) and generally rearranging the stage much to the chagrin of his over fussy stage manager who has spent ages getting things perfect. However towards the end of 'Real Cool Time', he invites a fan or two onstage with him. This invitation is rapidly escalated to the whole of the audience and within 5 minutes there are close to 200 people up there, the most there has ever been on that stage (Apart from the Arcade Fire the night before). This is all soundtracked by their best song, 'No Fun', and the lyrics couldn't be further from the truth as fans bop along, some try to grope Iggy and mob the rest of the band who somehow manage to keep playing perfectly. At the song's conclusion it take a good 10 minutes to clear the stage before they can carry on. A superb and chaotic spectacle for anyone who saw it, and a Worthy (Sorry) entry into Glastonbury folklore. The show ends with 'Skull Ring' and 'Funhouse'. After the most entertaining set of the weekend, Iggy goes off into the night to party some more, and so do we. On they way back we manage to get to the Leftfield in time to see a great but short set from Hard Fi representing the Rock against Racism charity. The best songs from their debut album plus several promising new songs make it a good way to spend Saturday night.

After a frustrating evening, the legendary Lost Vagueness area was rendered useless by the mud and water, and it rained heavily yet again, we awoke to a slightly more promising day. That is to say it wasn't actually raining. After some quality heckling of the Glastonbury Town Band and National Youth Orchestra - who apparently didn't know how to play Motorhead's 'Killed by Death' (or at least pretended not to) it was time to slodge down to the Peel Tent for the Noisettes. This is a real effort as anything resembling a slope now has all the grip of ice and mud casualties are everywhere. Noisettes turn out to be a 3 piece with a hairy drummer who obviously models his act on Animal from the Muppets, and a cool looking arty guitarist. However the undisputed star of the show is bassist and vocalist Shoniwa. Dressed in an amazing outfit (see the picture right) she is equal parts beautiful and scary. So is the music. Drawing from punk, ska, metal, r'n'b and even a bit of country they present us with an entertaining half hour. i didn't really know any of the songs but they made an impression and will be checking them out further. Always a good sign, they were watched stage side by members of other bands including the Horrors and The Enemy. Definately a tip for the top. Already tipped for similar things are the Horrors who have graced the NME's front cover before an album release, and been on that magazine's coverted Awards Tour. Sadly they have yet to really take off but I must confess to quite liking them. Musically they are grunge, punk, goth and metal combined, and come on a lot like a modern day Stooges or perhaps the kings of shock, The Cramps. Instead of Iggy we have the splendidly named Faris Rotter, who yells shrieks and howls, anything but sings, and spends 99% of the gig staring at the floor. Image wise think the Ramones on their way home from a Halloween party and you won't go far wrong. A good sized crowd has slodged in to see them and they put on the usual manic show. It does grate after a while though and I leave to go elsewhere with 10 minutes of their set, safe in the knowledge I won't see anything different. Good overall though.

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The premature leave was due to monumental slodge required to get me across town to the Acoustic Stage. Here a rather talented bloke with a beard called Keith James is treating us to a performance of the songs of Nick Drake. Amazingly when I get there though it is fullish it is relatively dry (I even saw grass fleetingly) and it's possible to sit down. Oh for life's simple pleasures. Now Keith James is not a household name, but he is a singer songwriter who has been a record producer for much of his career. Recently he has been performing the Nick Drake songs, who was also a singer songwriter, until his death in 1974 from a drug overdose at the age of 26. His songs are raw, stripped down and are, to be honest, a tad depressing and bleak. During his life they sold not many copies and it wasn't until the 90s when he was 'discovered' by most people. Indeed people are still discovering him now and I count myself among them. James plays his songs like an ardent fan and it was a pleasure to have been there and heard him. Truly depressing and I mean that as a compliment.

Dame Shirley - "And this dear folks is the size of my appearance cheque"

Despite the huge array of acts on at the festival there was one name who was on most people's lips, and especially the media who couldn't mention Glastonbury in a sentence without slipping in the name of Dame Shirley Bassey. Possibly the only Dame to play at the festival ever, but, hey, we'll check this out for you. There is a delay whilst a large orchestra assembles onstage, and on close inspection I can confirm it wasn't the Arcade Fire. (Now there's an idea). Overhead rain clouds threaten again and surely the performance cannot be spoilt by the weather can it? For one it would ruin her dress. This apparently cost over £50000, and on her entrance it is easy to see why. Simply put she looks fab inside it and it is hard to believe she is a tad over seventy. In the build up we had been promised some surprises, but nothing on the scale of starting her set with Pink's 'Get the party started'. It was quite amusing when she had to sing the words 'Kissing my Ass' and she gave an embarrassed 'Sorry'. I would have quite liked to heard her tackle the Datsun's 'Motherfucker from Hell' but sadly this was not to be, though in truth it was never really a deal breaker. She did however dip into some of her most famous songs, including 'Goldfinger', 'Hey big Spender' (so good she did it twice) 'I am what I am', and 'The lady is a Tramp'. All completely over the top mind and cheesy but there is no denying the Welsh troubadour carries it off. The Welsh theme is carried on by the Manic Street Preacher's regular Pyramid Stage slot. Of course being regulars they are completely au fait with what the audience wants. Classic songs. Hits come from all stages of the band's career right back to pre album track 'Motown Junk' which is just about the best tune of the entire day. From this year they bring the Cardigans Nina Persson on stage to duet on recent hit single 'Your love alone', and as ever the beast that is 'Design for life' (Still sounding fresh today, 12 years on from its conception), closes out the set. They go down a storm.

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Waiting for the Who - Worn out but happy and still partying

Only the headliners still to come then. So far the Pyramid stage had been plagued by technical and sound problems, especially for the 2 previous headliners. By the third night these had been well and truly ironed out, and just in time too, by the looks of it as The Who have brought a monstrous stage show full of giant video screens showing highlights of the band's past. Sadly of the four young men gracing the scenes in this montage, only 2 have made it safely through to 2007. Roger Daltry still possesses a great voice and is not too past it to swirl and twiddle his mic lead with an encouraging amount of wreckless abandon. Townshend meanwhile makes it clear he is the band leader, doing most of the talking to the audience and of course still giving it the windmill guitar arm. It is his guitar which opens the show, the razor riff of 'I Can't Explain'. Light rain has started to fall but spirits are lifted by a run of classic songs from the band's peak, 'Baba O Reilly', 'Who are You', 'Behind blue Eyes' and signiture tune 'My Generation'. In between is some lesser played stuff plus, horror, a new song. Its definately average, unlike the rest of the set. The highlight comes with the powerchord intro to 'Won't get fooled Again', a complete classic and played with a great deal of energy, from men in their 60's. There are loads of encores too including more classics 'Pinball Wizard' and 'The kids are Alright'. Really entertaining and a nice end to a mixed bag of a festival. The rain has become heavier and as we are leaving early in the morning its time to head to the tents.

All night the rain came down. On waking at the ungodly hour of 6.30 when under different circumstances I would still be up, the campsite looks to be slowly disappearing under water. Amazingly we get packed and off for 7.30 but it's truly a depressing scene, and piss cold too, given that it's apparently summer. All around its grey as we trudge slowly out of the site, I have never been so glad to see the car. By a minor miracle there is no real queue to get out and as bigger and heavier cars are getting stuck in the mud, my light beast glides smoothly over and avoids any potential bottlenecks. By 8.30 we are out and enjoying a huge full English in a transport caff and drying out. After 3 mud years its time to pray for glorious weather next time out. Its so much better when this happens. And in any case i've had enough of slodging.

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