Forget everything and remember
Jun. 29th, 2005 09:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ventaLast year was the first time I'd been to Glastonbury, and the entire festival left me completely awed. I was a little concerned that this year it would lose the magic, and be as it was last year but with different bands. It'd still be good, but would effectively be "more of the same".
Er, no.
Sure, this year I knew not to be surprised by just how many tents you can get into ten square feet, and wasn't surprised by the crowds or the mud. Even with last year to go by, though, I was still staggered by the sheer amount of Stuff there is to be found on the site. Huge stages, tiny stages, impromptu street theatre, people doing mad stuff, more food than even I could eat, enormous wicker figures, small wooden sculptures... if you can plausibly imagine one at a festival, there'll be one. Of course, you might not be able to find it.
We found loads of stuff we missed last year, loads of new stuff, some familiar old stuff and there's still things we didn't see. It's entirely possible to watch bands solidly for around 14 hours a day (minimum) but it'd be a shame to do so... there's so much more there than just the headliners, and I'm really glad that we spent parts of each day just milling and hoping to find things to prod or play with or watch.
Incidentally, if anyone is curious as to the bands which I ignored/missed, etc, there's an approximately-accurate table of the main stages here. For reasons best known only to themselves, Glastonbury doeesn't produce an online reference for the lineup, and the official Guardian Guide is low on ataglanceability[*], leaving amatuers to cobble together usable charts. Which of course don't cover all the stages - because, frankly, there's millions of them. There's the stages listed on that guide (all 12 of them), there are other largeish stages like the Leftfield, and then there are minor stages in cafés, on platforms, or in bandstands dotted around the place. Finding out in advance what's on at them is nigh impossible. And that's even before you start to consider the theatre tent, the cabaret stage, the various circus stages...
Did I mention that there was a lot of stuff going on ?
If you can't believe I missed Band X or Artist Y, then bear in mind that just getting about between stages takes time, and in particular this year it took time. The mud really was atrocious, and walking through fields of sticky, sucking gloop which tries to steal your wellies (or land you on your bum) at every step is a very time consuming process. Bands in []s are ones where I only saw a very small part of the set, or heard them from afar (the Other Stage was perfectly audible from our tent).
Thursday
Bands seen: well, there aren't any playing officially. Unofficially, we found a band on the Lost Vagueness stage, and an interesting trio with a remarkably drug-addled-looking singer in The Gin Palace. I have no idea what either of these was called. And, incredibly, on a stage in The Crown (one of the sites "pubs") we found Bez, with a full band in tow. I admire the guy's ability to build a career out of nothing. His singing's not up to much, but the overall effect was quite interesting, and if my brain hadn't been melting with hayfever I'd have liked to have stayed longer to listen.
I had a vague idea that somehow I'd remember the layout of the site from last year, and that navigation would be easier. Wrong. The site is so huge that I find it impossible to get an overview into my head, and have to fall back on point-to-point geography and landmark spotting. Fortunately, ChrisC has a keen sense of direction so I mostly got by by stating my desired destination and following obediently. Walk by wire :)
Last year, the one location I could always find and identify correctly was the Jazz World field - or "the flags field", so called (by me) because of its rows and rows of colourful silk flags. Only this year, some silly bugger decided that flags were nice, and that they'd have them everywhere. Bah. Of course, it took me a little while to properly assimilate this; at first I assumed that flags==Jazz World every time, which gave me a rather Möbius sense of geograpy.
Twelve hours or so went with very little effort on Thursday. Some of it was spent lazing in the shade and trying not to get sunburnt; mostly we just wandered around being continuously amazed at things. I think the camera came with us, and I'm kind of looking forward to seeing what's on the film when it comes back, as I've mostly forgotten what got photo'd.
Friday
Bands seen: Maximo Park, The Zutons, Elvis Costello, Bloc Party, [Alabama 3], [The Egg], Willy Mason, Fatboy Slim, The White Stripes.
Friday morning wasn't a lot of fun. If you saw this field then yes, that was the one we'd chosed to camp in. We were above the floodline by a (small) safe margin but, standing looking over the field as the water rose alarmingly, it wasn't immediately obvious this would be the case.
I was woken by thunder on Friday morning, and both it and the rain were sounding really alarming from inside a tent. I (the pessimist who'd packed wellies) trundled out to buy boots for ChrisC (the optimist who'd read the forecast of light rain). By the time I'd waded out to the army surplus stores I'd come to one conclusion: wellies were useless (the water was way over the top of mine), and the shop sold their last pair as I arrived. Eyeing up the huge queue at Millets, I decided that something very big and very waterproof (like an army poncho) was a better bet; feet would, since chest-waders were unavailable, have to take their chance. This was ultimately a very bad call - our campsite wasn't representative of the site as a whole, and the wisest move would have been joining the Millets queue before they sold out of wellingtons.
Walking back to the tent, I found myself wishing I had brought the camera with me - the water rushing down the hillside was quite an impressive sight. Then I realised that actually there were people struggling in the water, and that I could do more useful things than stand and watch them. Instead of my photo I have a memory of fighting in knee-deep, fast-moving water to help three people drag their tent onto solid ground. The tent was a nylon dome like mine, purple, green and white against the brown water, but already twisted out of shape, poles stickying out at angles. By the time we'd landed it it was a hopeless, irrepairable wreck. I hope they managed to salvage their kit and find somewhere dry to sleep.
Over a cup of tea in the nearby breakfast tent an hour or so later, we chatted to a girl whose tent had also been swept away. She'd rescued her stuff, but it was all soaked through. By that stage I knew that our tent was safe, but I hope that, had it not been, I'd have been able to deal with it as calmly as she appeared to.
By lunchtime bands were starting to struggle onto stages - lack of power, and little considerations like the Pyramid being struck by lightning (according to rumour) had forced cancellation of morning spots - the sun was coming out, and the last of the stalls were cautiously creeping into openness again. Apparently Blackbud - who'd been suppose to appear on the John Peel stage - played an acoustic set (in a very literal sense) propped up against a fence in the field. I salute them, and wish I'd been there to see it.
Highlights of the day were The Zutons, who rose mightily to the occasion and confronted the mocking sunshine with buckets of energy and some very brazen sax, and us accidentally finding The Egg. We'd wandered up to the Dance Field hoping to find Pitman, but the tent he should have been appearing in was a tattered and collapsed wreck after the storm. Instead, a sound of dance music with incredibly funky bass lured us to a nearby stage. It was only after the (too soon) end of the set that we found out that we'd stumbled upon The Egg, on stage at completely the wrong time. They're still great.
Saturday
Bands seen: [The Deadbeats], [The Engineers], Goldie Lookin' Chain, Kaiser Chiefs, Chas 'n' Dave, Ash, The Coral, Nouvelle Vague, New Order, David ?, [Peatbog Faeries], Glen Tilbrook, Chris TT
Saturday dawned gloomy, and stayed gloomy. However, it also brought new consignments of wellies to stalls all over the site, which was a Good Thing.
You know, I can't help thinking that GLC are probably unable to believe that they're still getting away with it :) They're a one-joke band, but I'm prepared to forgive them a lot for Guns Don't Kill People, Rappers Do. Kaiser Chiefs will always stay in my mind for their singer crowd surfing in front of the stage, and ultimately kidnapping a punter's inflatable dinosaur to take back on stage with him. And, er, Chas 'n' Dave. Yes. Unexpected runaway success of the festival - the Acoustic Stage was packed to capacity and then some, and then some more. My street cred might be going down the pan, but they piled out a remarkably fun set. And way too many people knew all the words (I hasten to add that I didn't).
Arguably my top band of the festival was Nouvelle Vague. We'd struggled up to the Dance Field in the hope of locating their set, only to find that the Dance Lounge tent had been repaired, its red and blue stripes were bold against the sky, and all was running as normal again. Nouvelle Vague are a covers band, performing new wave and 80s classics in a sort of laid back bossa-nova style.
Of course, almost exactly an hour after a small but enthusiastic crowd sang along to Love Will Tear Us Apart (slightly disconcerting Nouvelle Vague, who seemed to think they'd finished the song already, and weren't entirely sure how to cope with the crowd continuing with the refrain), a much, much larger crowd sang along to the same song as played by New Order. The latter version was dedicated to John Peel - and began after a false start because Peter Hook's bass wasn't set up properly. "John Peel would be pissing himself laughing" pointed out New Order's singer - and too right. It's just a pity they couldn't manage to play it at the wrong speed.
I was vaguely surprised not to hear more tracks dedicate to Peel - last year's festival bristled with artists falling over themselves to namecheck Joe Strummer, but as far as I'm aware only New Order mentioned Peel. ChrisC thought Elvis Costello might have done, but wasn't sure. Ash covered Teenage Kicks, but sadly that was before we made it down to them. The John Peel Stage (formerly known as the New Bands Tent) had a wonderfully simple backdrop - his name and dates on one side, and the line "teenage dreams so hard to beat". And there's still a corner of a field dedicated to Strummer, with people paying their respects. I like the idea that Glastonbury looks after the memories of its heroes.
You might observe that I spent late Saturday night not listening to Coldplay - and indeed not listening to any of the headline bands. Having decided that we were at best kind of ambivalent to most of them, we went wandering in the Green Fields instead, finding a whole other world there. During the day, the Green Fields are quietly humming with workshops, craft demonstrations, stalls, bongos and kettles. At night, small stages spring into life in tiny café tents. The Small World Solar Stage, featuring Dave Surname-forgotten while we were there, is a beautifully patterned tent with carpet on the floor and small, low tables adorned with tea-lights scattered about. It's heated with glowing braziers, and has a little bar across one corner. The atmostphere is friendly, informal, quiet and incredibly relaxed compared to the scrums by the big stages.
Eventually leaving the pleasant, glowing welcome of the Green Fields we turned a corner to find an inflatable white cone around twenty feet high. Two people, wearing complicated gymballed harnesses, were suspended from its apex, and around the nearly-vertical surface were dancing a beautiful half ballet-half acrobatic story. It was entrancing, although we had no idea what or why it was. (Google knows, though: go here and click on Conedancers, though the video doesn't do it justice at all.)
Then it was into the cabaret tent for a little bit of Twisted Cabaret, before we headed over to the Leftfield to catch some of their late night acoustic stuff. And by the time I was heading to bed at getting on for 3am, there were still places all over the site that were only really just getting going.
Sunday
Bands seen: Red Hand Band, [Martha Wainwright], Brendon Benson, Jools Holland, The Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain, Brian Wilson, Garbage, Billy Bragg, Tori Amos, Ian Brown.
I listened to the Red Hand Band as I got up on Sunday morning, and tried not to get lost pottering about seeking breakfast and buying myself juice from a friendly stall that offered me watermelon, apple, ginger and lime (good combination!). They were great live (the Red Hand Band, that is, not the juice stall), though I'm not yet quite convinced about their recorded stuff - their website has some tracks to download if you're interested.
I never quite settled into enjoying Jools Holland, as I was being excessively sunned upon and trying to buy drinks and so on, which is a shame. He seemed to have a good old collection of talented musicians on stage with him, though I guess I'd have like to hear more Squeeze-era tracks from him.
And then... oh dear. Up to the Acoustic Stage. Some of you may know, I spearhead the anti-ukelele campaign. I went to see the UOoGB under extreme protest and, er, well... Don't tell anyone, will you ? But I really enjoyed them. I'm forced to rationalise this as follows: the seven of them are very talented people, they're very entertaining and have an amazing ability to keep multiple songs going at once. They're just misguided in their choice of instrument. Sooner or later they'll see the light and get proper instruments, and then they'll be even better. They played a straight set of covers, and the crowd obligingly went wild.
Brian Wilson went for out-and-out crowd pleasing. Thousands upon thousands of people in the sunshine, boogying outrageously in the mud to Surfin' USA and numerous other Beach Boys classics. Nuff said. We caught the end of Billy Bragg's set in the Leftfield - which meant we caught a gem: Bragg and Phil Jupitus on stage, singing a parody of Bragg's Sexuality. Bestiality really isn't politically correct, but it is very, very funny.
Unsure of which headliner to go for on Sunday evening, Ian Brown eventually won the day and opened with four Stone Roses songs - a strange choice and a strange statement to make. I'm not familiar with his solo stuff at all, though was quite taken with some of it. My abiding memory of this set will be of a nearby tall, thin bloke wearing no shirt, long shorts, hiking boots and an embroidered smoking cap jumping up and down in utter glee as She Bangs The Drums found its way into the end of the setlist.
During the day, I'd been sitting on a bench happily eating a most amazing pie, when we observed the strains of Where Is My Mind? (covered by James Blunt) floating by. I remarked that it was the first quality cover I'd heard all weekend - hastily adding "Nouvelle Vague don't count". A gentleman passing by mis-caught the end of my sentence, and paused to remonstrate with me, telling me that Nouvelle Vague were great. I agreed, and we chatted to him and his friends for a while, them being terribly disappointed to realise that they'd missed said band the previous day. It was only after they'd moved on that ChrisC pointed out to me that it was Stephen Frost who'd paused to talk to us. I'm rubbish at celebrity spotting.
Sunday also featured the most amazing piece of unexpected weirdness. A gentleman in wizards's robes and a long, white wig was demonstrating that you can, if skilled, make a crowd do anything. When we arrived, he had a bunch of people imitating ostriches, and, having just taken a collection in a hat, was leading a discussion on who to give it to. It was eventually distributed between a girl carrying a lump of cardboard Emmental on a stick who happened to be walking past, and a bloke driving a quad bike who came suddenly round a corner and nearly piled into the crowd. Both went on their way thoroughly disconcerted, and slightly richer. Quite how the wizard had managed to get his crowd into a state where a gesture toward a bloke on a quad bike and the words "bow to the chosen one" could instantly have a couple of hundred people on their knees, salaaming, is a bit of a mystery.
And suddenly, it's Monday and time to go home.
ChrisC managed a good record for the weekend of just unexpectedly bumping into people he knew. I failed despite a crop of sms's to catch up with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lnr and co., or to meet anyone else, though I managed to spot from afar a couple of people I vaguely recognise from folk festivals. I waved a cheerful hello to kitty_goth when I found myself standing next to him, which he politely returned, but the blank look suggested he had no idea who I was ;)
[*] that word is ©zandev, 2005.
Er, no.
Sure, this year I knew not to be surprised by just how many tents you can get into ten square feet, and wasn't surprised by the crowds or the mud. Even with last year to go by, though, I was still staggered by the sheer amount of Stuff there is to be found on the site. Huge stages, tiny stages, impromptu street theatre, people doing mad stuff, more food than even I could eat, enormous wicker figures, small wooden sculptures... if you can plausibly imagine one at a festival, there'll be one. Of course, you might not be able to find it.
We found loads of stuff we missed last year, loads of new stuff, some familiar old stuff and there's still things we didn't see. It's entirely possible to watch bands solidly for around 14 hours a day (minimum) but it'd be a shame to do so... there's so much more there than just the headliners, and I'm really glad that we spent parts of each day just milling and hoping to find things to prod or play with or watch.
Incidentally, if anyone is curious as to the bands which I ignored/missed, etc, there's an approximately-accurate table of the main stages here. For reasons best known only to themselves, Glastonbury doeesn't produce an online reference for the lineup, and the official Guardian Guide is low on ataglanceability[*], leaving amatuers to cobble together usable charts. Which of course don't cover all the stages - because, frankly, there's millions of them. There's the stages listed on that guide (all 12 of them), there are other largeish stages like the Leftfield, and then there are minor stages in cafés, on platforms, or in bandstands dotted around the place. Finding out in advance what's on at them is nigh impossible. And that's even before you start to consider the theatre tent, the cabaret stage, the various circus stages...
Did I mention that there was a lot of stuff going on ?
If you can't believe I missed Band X or Artist Y, then bear in mind that just getting about between stages takes time, and in particular this year it took time. The mud really was atrocious, and walking through fields of sticky, sucking gloop which tries to steal your wellies (or land you on your bum) at every step is a very time consuming process. Bands in []s are ones where I only saw a very small part of the set, or heard them from afar (the Other Stage was perfectly audible from our tent).
Thursday
Bands seen: well, there aren't any playing officially. Unofficially, we found a band on the Lost Vagueness stage, and an interesting trio with a remarkably drug-addled-looking singer in The Gin Palace. I have no idea what either of these was called. And, incredibly, on a stage in The Crown (one of the sites "pubs") we found Bez, with a full band in tow. I admire the guy's ability to build a career out of nothing. His singing's not up to much, but the overall effect was quite interesting, and if my brain hadn't been melting with hayfever I'd have liked to have stayed longer to listen.
I had a vague idea that somehow I'd remember the layout of the site from last year, and that navigation would be easier. Wrong. The site is so huge that I find it impossible to get an overview into my head, and have to fall back on point-to-point geography and landmark spotting. Fortunately, ChrisC has a keen sense of direction so I mostly got by by stating my desired destination and following obediently. Walk by wire :)
Last year, the one location I could always find and identify correctly was the Jazz World field - or "the flags field", so called (by me) because of its rows and rows of colourful silk flags. Only this year, some silly bugger decided that flags were nice, and that they'd have them everywhere. Bah. Of course, it took me a little while to properly assimilate this; at first I assumed that flags==Jazz World every time, which gave me a rather Möbius sense of geograpy.
Twelve hours or so went with very little effort on Thursday. Some of it was spent lazing in the shade and trying not to get sunburnt; mostly we just wandered around being continuously amazed at things. I think the camera came with us, and I'm kind of looking forward to seeing what's on the film when it comes back, as I've mostly forgotten what got photo'd.
Friday
Bands seen: Maximo Park, The Zutons, Elvis Costello, Bloc Party, [Alabama 3], [The Egg], Willy Mason, Fatboy Slim, The White Stripes.
Friday morning wasn't a lot of fun. If you saw this field then yes, that was the one we'd chosed to camp in. We were above the floodline by a (small) safe margin but, standing looking over the field as the water rose alarmingly, it wasn't immediately obvious this would be the case.
I was woken by thunder on Friday morning, and both it and the rain were sounding really alarming from inside a tent. I (the pessimist who'd packed wellies) trundled out to buy boots for ChrisC (the optimist who'd read the forecast of light rain). By the time I'd waded out to the army surplus stores I'd come to one conclusion: wellies were useless (the water was way over the top of mine), and the shop sold their last pair as I arrived. Eyeing up the huge queue at Millets, I decided that something very big and very waterproof (like an army poncho) was a better bet; feet would, since chest-waders were unavailable, have to take their chance. This was ultimately a very bad call - our campsite wasn't representative of the site as a whole, and the wisest move would have been joining the Millets queue before they sold out of wellingtons.
Walking back to the tent, I found myself wishing I had brought the camera with me - the water rushing down the hillside was quite an impressive sight. Then I realised that actually there were people struggling in the water, and that I could do more useful things than stand and watch them. Instead of my photo I have a memory of fighting in knee-deep, fast-moving water to help three people drag their tent onto solid ground. The tent was a nylon dome like mine, purple, green and white against the brown water, but already twisted out of shape, poles stickying out at angles. By the time we'd landed it it was a hopeless, irrepairable wreck. I hope they managed to salvage their kit and find somewhere dry to sleep.
Over a cup of tea in the nearby breakfast tent an hour or so later, we chatted to a girl whose tent had also been swept away. She'd rescued her stuff, but it was all soaked through. By that stage I knew that our tent was safe, but I hope that, had it not been, I'd have been able to deal with it as calmly as she appeared to.
By lunchtime bands were starting to struggle onto stages - lack of power, and little considerations like the Pyramid being struck by lightning (according to rumour) had forced cancellation of morning spots - the sun was coming out, and the last of the stalls were cautiously creeping into openness again. Apparently Blackbud - who'd been suppose to appear on the John Peel stage - played an acoustic set (in a very literal sense) propped up against a fence in the field. I salute them, and wish I'd been there to see it.
Highlights of the day were The Zutons, who rose mightily to the occasion and confronted the mocking sunshine with buckets of energy and some very brazen sax, and us accidentally finding The Egg. We'd wandered up to the Dance Field hoping to find Pitman, but the tent he should have been appearing in was a tattered and collapsed wreck after the storm. Instead, a sound of dance music with incredibly funky bass lured us to a nearby stage. It was only after the (too soon) end of the set that we found out that we'd stumbled upon The Egg, on stage at completely the wrong time. They're still great.
Saturday
Bands seen: [The Deadbeats], [The Engineers], Goldie Lookin' Chain, Kaiser Chiefs, Chas 'n' Dave, Ash, The Coral, Nouvelle Vague, New Order, David ?, [Peatbog Faeries], Glen Tilbrook, Chris TT
Saturday dawned gloomy, and stayed gloomy. However, it also brought new consignments of wellies to stalls all over the site, which was a Good Thing.
You know, I can't help thinking that GLC are probably unable to believe that they're still getting away with it :) They're a one-joke band, but I'm prepared to forgive them a lot for Guns Don't Kill People, Rappers Do. Kaiser Chiefs will always stay in my mind for their singer crowd surfing in front of the stage, and ultimately kidnapping a punter's inflatable dinosaur to take back on stage with him. And, er, Chas 'n' Dave. Yes. Unexpected runaway success of the festival - the Acoustic Stage was packed to capacity and then some, and then some more. My street cred might be going down the pan, but they piled out a remarkably fun set. And way too many people knew all the words (I hasten to add that I didn't).
Arguably my top band of the festival was Nouvelle Vague. We'd struggled up to the Dance Field in the hope of locating their set, only to find that the Dance Lounge tent had been repaired, its red and blue stripes were bold against the sky, and all was running as normal again. Nouvelle Vague are a covers band, performing new wave and 80s classics in a sort of laid back bossa-nova style.
Of course, almost exactly an hour after a small but enthusiastic crowd sang along to Love Will Tear Us Apart (slightly disconcerting Nouvelle Vague, who seemed to think they'd finished the song already, and weren't entirely sure how to cope with the crowd continuing with the refrain), a much, much larger crowd sang along to the same song as played by New Order. The latter version was dedicated to John Peel - and began after a false start because Peter Hook's bass wasn't set up properly. "John Peel would be pissing himself laughing" pointed out New Order's singer - and too right. It's just a pity they couldn't manage to play it at the wrong speed.
I was vaguely surprised not to hear more tracks dedicate to Peel - last year's festival bristled with artists falling over themselves to namecheck Joe Strummer, but as far as I'm aware only New Order mentioned Peel. ChrisC thought Elvis Costello might have done, but wasn't sure. Ash covered Teenage Kicks, but sadly that was before we made it down to them. The John Peel Stage (formerly known as the New Bands Tent) had a wonderfully simple backdrop - his name and dates on one side, and the line "teenage dreams so hard to beat". And there's still a corner of a field dedicated to Strummer, with people paying their respects. I like the idea that Glastonbury looks after the memories of its heroes.
You might observe that I spent late Saturday night not listening to Coldplay - and indeed not listening to any of the headline bands. Having decided that we were at best kind of ambivalent to most of them, we went wandering in the Green Fields instead, finding a whole other world there. During the day, the Green Fields are quietly humming with workshops, craft demonstrations, stalls, bongos and kettles. At night, small stages spring into life in tiny café tents. The Small World Solar Stage, featuring Dave Surname-forgotten while we were there, is a beautifully patterned tent with carpet on the floor and small, low tables adorned with tea-lights scattered about. It's heated with glowing braziers, and has a little bar across one corner. The atmostphere is friendly, informal, quiet and incredibly relaxed compared to the scrums by the big stages.
Eventually leaving the pleasant, glowing welcome of the Green Fields we turned a corner to find an inflatable white cone around twenty feet high. Two people, wearing complicated gymballed harnesses, were suspended from its apex, and around the nearly-vertical surface were dancing a beautiful half ballet-half acrobatic story. It was entrancing, although we had no idea what or why it was. (Google knows, though: go here and click on Conedancers, though the video doesn't do it justice at all.)
Then it was into the cabaret tent for a little bit of Twisted Cabaret, before we headed over to the Leftfield to catch some of their late night acoustic stuff. And by the time I was heading to bed at getting on for 3am, there were still places all over the site that were only really just getting going.
Sunday
Bands seen: Red Hand Band, [Martha Wainwright], Brendon Benson, Jools Holland, The Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain, Brian Wilson, Garbage, Billy Bragg, Tori Amos, Ian Brown.
I listened to the Red Hand Band as I got up on Sunday morning, and tried not to get lost pottering about seeking breakfast and buying myself juice from a friendly stall that offered me watermelon, apple, ginger and lime (good combination!). They were great live (the Red Hand Band, that is, not the juice stall), though I'm not yet quite convinced about their recorded stuff - their website has some tracks to download if you're interested.
I never quite settled into enjoying Jools Holland, as I was being excessively sunned upon and trying to buy drinks and so on, which is a shame. He seemed to have a good old collection of talented musicians on stage with him, though I guess I'd have like to hear more Squeeze-era tracks from him.
And then... oh dear. Up to the Acoustic Stage. Some of you may know, I spearhead the anti-ukelele campaign. I went to see the UOoGB under extreme protest and, er, well... Don't tell anyone, will you ? But I really enjoyed them. I'm forced to rationalise this as follows: the seven of them are very talented people, they're very entertaining and have an amazing ability to keep multiple songs going at once. They're just misguided in their choice of instrument. Sooner or later they'll see the light and get proper instruments, and then they'll be even better. They played a straight set of covers, and the crowd obligingly went wild.
Brian Wilson went for out-and-out crowd pleasing. Thousands upon thousands of people in the sunshine, boogying outrageously in the mud to Surfin' USA and numerous other Beach Boys classics. Nuff said. We caught the end of Billy Bragg's set in the Leftfield - which meant we caught a gem: Bragg and Phil Jupitus on stage, singing a parody of Bragg's Sexuality. Bestiality really isn't politically correct, but it is very, very funny.
Unsure of which headliner to go for on Sunday evening, Ian Brown eventually won the day and opened with four Stone Roses songs - a strange choice and a strange statement to make. I'm not familiar with his solo stuff at all, though was quite taken with some of it. My abiding memory of this set will be of a nearby tall, thin bloke wearing no shirt, long shorts, hiking boots and an embroidered smoking cap jumping up and down in utter glee as She Bangs The Drums found its way into the end of the setlist.
During the day, I'd been sitting on a bench happily eating a most amazing pie, when we observed the strains of Where Is My Mind? (covered by James Blunt) floating by. I remarked that it was the first quality cover I'd heard all weekend - hastily adding "Nouvelle Vague don't count". A gentleman passing by mis-caught the end of my sentence, and paused to remonstrate with me, telling me that Nouvelle Vague were great. I agreed, and we chatted to him and his friends for a while, them being terribly disappointed to realise that they'd missed said band the previous day. It was only after they'd moved on that ChrisC pointed out to me that it was Stephen Frost who'd paused to talk to us. I'm rubbish at celebrity spotting.
Sunday also featured the most amazing piece of unexpected weirdness. A gentleman in wizards's robes and a long, white wig was demonstrating that you can, if skilled, make a crowd do anything. When we arrived, he had a bunch of people imitating ostriches, and, having just taken a collection in a hat, was leading a discussion on who to give it to. It was eventually distributed between a girl carrying a lump of cardboard Emmental on a stick who happened to be walking past, and a bloke driving a quad bike who came suddenly round a corner and nearly piled into the crowd. Both went on their way thoroughly disconcerted, and slightly richer. Quite how the wizard had managed to get his crowd into a state where a gesture toward a bloke on a quad bike and the words "bow to the chosen one" could instantly have a couple of hundred people on their knees, salaaming, is a bit of a mystery.
And suddenly, it's Monday and time to go home.
ChrisC managed a good record for the weekend of just unexpectedly bumping into people he knew. I failed despite a crop of sms's to catch up with
lnr and co., or to meet anyone else, though I managed to spot from afar a couple of people I vaguely recognise from folk festivals. I waved a cheerful hello to kitty_goth when I found myself standing next to him, which he politely returned, but the blank look suggested he had no idea who I was ;)[*] that word is ©
zandev, 2005.
