Glastonbury 2013 Part 1

After a fallow year in 2012 which allowed us punters to pay attention to the Summer Olympics and allowed the cows to take off their ear defenders for a bit, Worthy Farm once more played host to the great unwashed and the festival that is Glastonbury.  As has now become a ritual on this blog I shall be posting two Glasto reports, this one with a few thoughts on this year’s proceedings and a second with my world famous awards.

So without further ado, here are some general observations.  This year’s event was generally more of the same, sporting a huge variety of acts from all genres and generations, playing to enthusiastic crowds of awe-struck teens, seen-it-all-before parents and bewildered toddlers.  What was different was that the weather was almost Woodstock-like with clear blue skies rather than the usual deluge and the TV coverage was bigger and better than ever before with live broadcasting of all the major stages on multiple channels, website streaming and mobile access.  In fact, it was all too overwhelming for the poor viewer who could not possibly watch everything and was reduced to the same dilemma that confronts the actual festival goer, that is, which acts do I watch?  Hurrah for hard disk recording!

Some things, however, never change and it is quite curious to note that despite the massive advancements in music tech and the changes in society generally, the one aspect of bands at Glasto that has not changed is that guitars have remained resolutely stuck in the 1960s.  Everywhere you looked guitarists were sporting Fender Stratocasters or Telecasters, Rickenbackers, Gibson Les Pauls or SGs.  If you found a bass player without a Fender Precision you were doing very well indeed.  It seems to be that guitars have become the genes of the rock world that are passed on from generation to generation, tying the line of heritage together into a complete whole.  There is almost a reverence in using classic instruments that the likes of the Beatles and Jimi Hendrix once sported that says, ‘we are descended from the greats’ like the royal right of succession.

Without giving too much away, Saturday headliners, The Rolling Stones, will not be appearing in my Top 3 (to be revealed in my next post) and for one reason only; they are the meanest band in rock.  They made their fortune several times over, years ago, so why do they still insist on holding people to ransom over fees.  This time, they wanted to restrict broadcast time to one hour and when that was finally agreed (the day before their performance), started to quibble over repeat fees.  It’s not like broadcasting their set is likely to keep paying punters away, the festival was a sell out months ago.  It’s about time Mick and the boys started to give something back to the industry and the fans that made them what they are.

I’ve got hours and hours of recorded material to wade through and I've not seen their performance yet, but perhaps I won’t bother.

Glastonbury Festival 2011 (Part 2 - The Awards)

This year the Glastonbury Festival marks its fortieth anniversary, the first (then free) festival taking place on a cobbled together tubular steel and wooden plank stage in 1971.  In order to celebrate the fact, a ‘Spirit of ‘71’ stage was included this year where many of those who performed in 1971 returned to the scene of their crimes to perform to nostalgic on-lookers.  To see the likes of Melanie and Edgar Broughton belting out old familiar numbers even gave hardened old cynic me a misty eye.

The Hippy roots of Glastonbury continue to pervade the Festival to this day and there is no doubt that the festival spirit affects both performers and audience alike.  Major beneficiaries this year were undoubtedly Elbow whose connection with the huge crowd was quite mesmeric.  But they weren’t the only ones and it is one reason why I love this Festival – for three days, the world seems at peace.

But enough of this new-agey stuff, on to the Music Obsessive Awards which this year were very tricky to pitch given the huge and generally enjoyable line-ups on virtually every stage.  However, a decision has been made. 

In third place comes the old crooner himself, Morrissey who played as the warm up act to the all-conquering Coldplay on the Saturday evening.  Despite the fact that he is clearly middle-aged these days and the old joints are not what they were, and the fact that the set went a bit flat in places, I thoroughly enjoyed his mix of solo stuff and old Smiths songs.  It served as a timely reminder of what a way the man has with words.  The mixture of kitchen sink, no holds barred truths and wry black humour has never really been matched by anybody writing since and to hear the likes of ‘I Want the One I Can’t Have’ and ‘This Charming Man’ again was a real pleasure.  All together now;

‘I would go out tonight

But I haven’t got a stitch to WE-AR….’

In second place is Beyoncé.  Yes, I know.  Before the Festival started, I would have laughed in your face if you’d told me I was going to type those words, but it has happened.  Despite not really knowing much about her music, I was vastly entertained by her Sunday headline set and I was entertained because she didn’t fall into the trap so many of her mega-star ( and I have to say American – sorry guys) peers fall into and kept it simple.  No constant costume changes, no huge sets, no complicated Busby-Berkeley dance routines – a bit of glitz, sure, but just music.  Glastonbury is all about music and the connection between the performer and the audience and Beyoncé seemed to understand this.  The mix of songs was spot on, drawing on all her influences from funk to ballad, from R&B to soul.  Glastonbury is not a place to plug your new album, it’s a place to display your best stuff and to convince people who are not necessarily your fans that you have worth and for me she did just that.  Once again Glastonbury wove its magic and you could see the emotion, especially during final song ‘Halo’ where she had to stop to catch her breath.  Beyoncé, you have a new fan.

And so to my Number One Act.  They played two sets; one on the Park stage on Friday and one on the John Peel Stage on Saturday afternoon and they are the all-female foursome from Los Angeles – Warpaint.  Warpaint is such a clever name for starters, combining the slang for makeup, thus underlining their gender, with the more tribal connotations of warfare.  Their music could also be described as ‘tribal’ being a cross between 1982 Cure/Siouxsie gothic and 1992 Cocteau Twins.  It has a peculiar quality of being quite mesmerising without seeming to go anywhere in particular.  Somehow, it doesn’t really matter as the heavily chorused guitars chime over intricate bass patterns and complex drumming and you are drawn in forever.  Their live vocals could do with beefing up a bit as they don’t quite match the studio versions I now have in my possession on their debut album, ‘Fool’ but otherwise they were beautifully understated, yet wonderful and worthy winners this year.

But that is not really the end of it.  Special mentions must also go to The Horrors, Kool and the Gang, Rumer, Hurts and Elbow and a very special mention must go to Jessie J who played her set with a broken foot and provided us with a magic moment.  It occurred when she asked for a member of the audience to help her with ‘Price Tag’ and we old cynics cringed.  But it turned out to be nothing like the toe-curling moment we expected and a gobsmacked Jessie didn’t quite get what she expected.  It put a smile on my face for hours afterwards.  Magical.

Glastonbury Festival 2011 (Part 1)

Well, you have to hand it to the BBC, they always do a wizard job of covering the Glastonbury Festival and this year was no exception.  The only problem for goggle-eyed TV viewers like me is finding the time to watch over 24 hours of footage, either live or recorded.  It is becoming a bit of a marathon involving a sagging couch and several crates of beer.

Nevertheless, this year’s event was well up to standard and remains the Festival that all Festivals should aspire to.  Despite the enormous amount of airtime set aside on up to three BBC channels (plus the red button), the ever growing size of the goings-on is beginning to defeat even the wily TV editors and the viewing experience is becoming one of not so much what you do see, but what you don’t.

This year the number of stages and line-ups over the three days was so huge that I was left feeling a bit frustrated by the fact that some of the smaller bands I wanted to see were not covered.  Of course, the answer is to attend the thing myself, but as BBC presenter Jo Wiley put it so succinctly, ‘Why brave the mud, when we can do it for you?’  Having said all that, the atmosphere was like a well-used comfort blanket and for a weekend, music did what it should and provided a considerable amount of emotional pleasure.

The 2011 extravaganza was thus for me, one of undoubted enjoyment but tinged with a sense of loss.  I have no real attachment to any of the three headliners, U2 (it rained heavily on them on the Friday evening - so there is a God), Coldplay (OK, but they didn't play 'Speed of Sound' - my only real must-have Coldplay track) and Beyoncé (more of her later) so this year I became more attuned to some of those lesser names further down the playing order.  Many were very good indeed and some will feature in my top three acts which will be revealed, as has now become a MO tradition, in my next post, but there were names that never saw a TV camera. 

Of those that were given airtime my particular favourites included the astounding vocals of Hurts, the neo-prog of Everything Everything, the wild Aussie rock (circa 1969) of sister-band Stonefield, the quite outstandingly good harmonies of The Pierces (I’m sure John Phillips was smiling down at their Mamas and Papas meets the Jefferson Airplane song, ‘Glorious’) and Jessie J complete with broken foot.

Sadly, top of my list of non-shows was the Swedish female quintet, Those Dancing Days, which was first introduced to me by fellow blogger, Zee, and whose last few singles I have enjoyed enormously.  Their raw energy and slightly ragged playing style puts me in mind of bands like The Slits and the Raincoats, but they have a classic Swedish ambience all of their own.  Apparently, their set on the Park stage on the Saturday was beset by technical problems so perhaps it was best they remained anonymous this once.  However, in order to balance out the fact that they got no airtime, here is their latest poptastic single, ‘Can’t Find Entrance’.

Glastonbury Festival 2010 - Part 2

Viewing Glastonbury on the TV is a bit like looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope. Despite the hours of footage broadcast by the BBC with all its digital channels you really only get to see someone else’s edited highlights. Nevertheless, a TV viewer probably still gets to see more acts than a person actually on site, so I suppose it’s not for me to complain.


As I opined in part 1, I felt a little underwhelmed this year. The headline bands were OK but I never did understand the attraction of Gorillaz and as a stand in for U2 (and I’m not a fan of U2 at all), they were mildly disappointing. Muse was the best of the bunch bringing a sense of bravado to Saturday night and then there was Stevie Wonder. To me, Wonder falls into the same category as Paul McCartney and The Rolling Stones in that their best work was done in the late 60s and early 70s and they’ve spent the last 40-odd years trying hard not to tarnish that work and largely failing. As the years have passed, I’ve tried to watch as many of the older generation of musicians as possible because you always get the feeling that it might be your last chance and this year I tried to like Stevie Wonder. Admittedly, his set was an endless and impressive list of hit songs but it wasn’t until he did ‘For Once in my Life’ that I really connected with him. There is just something compelling about his early Motown singles that still touch me where much of his later output doesn’t. The musical arrangement was pure Motown and the spirit of the Funk Brothers hovered over the performance like an old long lost friend. A gem of a moment in a workmanlike set.

So who were my personal favourites? This year I have tried to pick three acts that I don’t really know much about. So no accolades for Florence and the Machine, Rodrigo Y Gabriela or Scissor Sisters (despite Kylie turning up for a brief few minutes) – all of whom were excellent, but have been applauded in past years.

Instead, in third place comes Shakira who, according to rumour, is the best selling female singer in the world after…Susan Boyle. Dressed in surprisingly demure attire, she wiggled her way through a largely enjoyable set which not only pleased her audience but seemed to fill her to overflowing with the spirit of Glastonbury. For such a major star to appear so humbled and grateful was quite heart-warming. Sometimes this world can be a wonderful place; you just need to know where to look.

In second place is a band that I know next to nothing about and they are Editors. I found singer Tom Smith, who appends a memorably cavernous voice to the tortured style of a Morrissey/Ian Curtis hybrid, a fascinating front man. Whilst being a standard Indie band at their core they embellish the template with sparkling synthesisers and a variety of song styles which move them into an area that is more gothic and less jangly. An interesting set and a band I may well research a bit further.

My winner this year is another band of which I know next to nothing and they are Faithless which has quite surprised me. As a rule, I am not a fan of Rap finding it a bit ‘lazy’ technically but the sheer musicality of their performance won me over. The combination of dance grooves and pop/rock dynamics was riveting. Whether I follow this up, I don’t know but for an hour or so on a sunny Sunday afternoon it was perfect.

So that’s it for another year. Special mentions must also go to Ellie Goulding, Pet Shop Boys, Marina and the Diamonds and Corinne Bailey Rae who all entertained but just missed out on the prizes. Will next year be another classic?  Only Star Trek knows.

Glastonbury Festival 2010 - Part 1

Isn’t it the Star Trek movies that people always assert are better if they are even numbered, starting with Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan and pants if odd numbered? I only ask because I’m beginning to think that the Glastonbury Festivals are following a similar alternating path. The 2007 shindig was great, the 2008 event disappointing and last year’s 2009 festival probably one of my all time favourites.

So you can see where I’m going with this. Despite the fact that the weather was completely alien to your average Glastonbury goer – sun and clear blue skies the whole three days – this year’s Glastonbury just didn’t really do it for me. None of the headliners, which included Gorillaz, Muse and Stevie Wonder, held me spellbound despite their obvious credentials and a few high spots and compared to last year, I felt the line-ups generally were a bit lacking.

Not that there was anything wrong with the composition of the artists’ roster. As usual, the Eavis family did a great job in mixing up genres and generations so that we had the likes of Willie Nelson and Ray Davies rubbing shoulders with Groove Armada, Snoop Dog and Dizzee Rascal, but frankly it was always going to be difficult trying to match last year’s headlining trio of Neil Young, Blur and The Boss, especially after U2 had to pull out.

Nevertheless, there is one aspect that remains a constant and it is the reason why I tune in year after year. It is that the Glastonbury Festival seems to have a direct link to its hippy roots of the late 60s and early 70s and the abiding spirit of peace love and good-natured openness never fails to infiltrate performers and public alike. Every act, irrespective of their age, style or, let’s be honest, ability, plays to a huge and appreciative audience and everybody appears to have a good time. The cynic may say that the audience should, after all they’re paying for it, but what about the artists? There is more to this than meets the eye.

Even hardened big name performers who are no stranger to playing in front of gargantuan crowds seem to succumb to the Glastonbury spirit and come over all emotional. I saw it in Bruce Springsteen’s eyes last year and it was Shakira’s turn this year. Somehow, the atmosphere seems to take them by surprise and it is this powerful emotional feeling that still pervades, even in these days of rampant commercialism, that makes the Glastonbury Festival the best in the world. In a nutshell, it is always Glastonbury itself that is the star of the show and this acts as a great leveller between artist and audience.

But enough of this new age musing, what you are all waiting for is this year’s Music Obsessive Top Three Acts but I have to say that I am struggling here and may plead for additional time in front of the BBC iPlayer before I make my decision. But never fear - it will appear here soon.

Glastonbury Festival 2009 (Part 2)

Michael Eavis has been quoted as saying that he thought this year’s Glastonbury Festival was the best yet, but he would say that, wouldn’t he? Nevertheless, looking at the headline line-up of Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and a reformed Blur, you feel he may have a point. Certainly, there was a good feeling about this year’s event and I for one enjoyed it immensely. It has made my task of picking my favourite three acts humongously difficult and I have thought long and hard about it, as well as going to the BBC website to see highlights of bands for the second time just to make sure. In the end, I have just had to go with what I enjoyed on a personal level rather than what was clearly good stuff but didn’t touch me in the same way. So here goes in time honoured reverse order:

In third place is Florence And The Machine who played to a huge crowd on the John Peel Stage. This is a controversial choice for me because a) they didn’t quite meet the hype put around by the media, and b) Florence’s singing was a little wayward at times. But what sealed their place on the podium was the performance. Florence prowled the stage like a wild animal and every feral snarl and leap was a captivating watch. This is what separates live music from MTV video. There was nothing choreographed, nothing thought about for more than a nanosecond just pure instinct – it’s called star quality and Ms Welch has it. Pity the music wasn’t a bit better but the performance was captivating and for that reason alone they get my vote.

In second is Bruce Springsteen. I am not a Boss fan and have never seen him play live but I sat through nearly an hour and a half of his set without knowing most of the songs and still loved it. I dare say that the size of the Glastonbury set up was not too daunting for Bruce – he’s probably played to bigger audiences before but somehow the occasion seemed to get to him and he looked like he was savouring every minute of it. He sang, he danced, he played guitar and risked life and limb in the audience and it was clearly as much fun as his old mate Joe Strummer had told him it would be. A true icon.

And so to the top spot and after much heart searching I’ve given it to Bat For Lashes who played the Other Stage on Sunday night. Never have I enjoyed seeing someone whom I wasn’t quite sure about blossom so assuredly on stage. Natasha Khan and her fabulous backing band (including Charlotte Hatherley on guitars, basses and keys) have elevated the nursery school music lesson to epic heights. All manner of strange percussion instruments were rattled and shook, ancient keyboards were prodded and a staggering variety of drums thumped, yet despite the musical complexity somehow you felt you could join in if only you had a detergent bottle filled with rice.

The playing was highly inventive, especially the drumming and Nat’s vocals were cool and beautiful. Top stuff.

There are so many other bands that have had to be relegated to the ‘Highly Commended’ category that I would have to continue this post into part 3 but mention in dispatches should go to Neil Young, Blur, Ting Tings, Crosby Stills and Nash, Franz Ferdinand, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Lady GaGa, all of whom I enjoyed unreservedly.

Follow that Mr Eavis.

Glastonbury Festival 2009 (Part 1)

The end of June is always a time ripe with anticipation chez Music Obsessive. Down on Eavis farm, the tents are erected, the stages built and the cows fitted with ear-defenders. Elsewhere, travellers are checking their backpacks for wellies, toothpaste, ridiculous comedy costumes and TV camera blocking flags – yes it’s the Glastonbury Festival 2009. After last year when I felt that age was finally catching up with me and apathy was the thief at the door, I was a little apprehensive, but having just watched a marathon 20-odd hours of TV coverage (another sterling job by the BBC) I am glad to say that this year was a cracker. So much so that I am splitting this post into two parts. Part 2, with my now globally famous top three Glasto acts awards to follow…

This year was marked by several aspects that are worthy of comment. First up, this was the year when I was out-manoeuvred by my own 9 year old daughter. Up until this point, I have been carefully educating her in the ways of rock ‘n’ roll whilst steadfastly retaining my God-like status as ultimate rock bore and fountain of all knowledge when it comes to knowing who wrote what and which obscure album it can be found on…but no longer. There we were watching Lily Allen’s rather lacklustre set on Friday afternoon when Lily went into the song ‘Womanizer’. At this point The Daughter affirmed with some conviction that this was a Britney Spears song. No, no, no, said I (with admittedly some smugness), I think you’ll find this on Lily’s album, ‘It’s Not Me It’s You’. But to be on the safe side I sneakily checked later and... I was wrong! It appears on Ms Spears’ latest effort, ‘Circus’. Damn! My cover has been blown and may never recover.

The second aspect concerns guitars. It was noticeable that only the more, ahem, mature acts still play guitar solos and that the younger generation still spurn them like the plague. This seems to date back to the mid-1970s when musical dexterity and especially guitar dexterity suddenly went out of fashion big-time. But now? Why is this grudge still perpetuating itself down the generations like a family curse? ‘Don’t-ee be playing that there geetar solo m’boy lest ye be struck down by the devil’. Anyway, it was great to hear some proper solos. Hat’s off to the likes of Stephen Stills, Neil Young, Francis Rossi and The Boss.

Also, it is interesting to note that all hoary old rockers play guitars which are battered to within an inch of their life. There seems to be a sort of reverse logic here where long-lived and presumably successful musicians spend no money on their tools of trade, preferring the ‘comfy shoes’ instruments that they are used to. Perhaps there is a natural life cycle where all bands start out with cheap instruments, then when they are successful they buy a new one every week, just because they can, only to revert to an old faithful when in their dotage. Someone should do a thesis on it.

Next up – the Music Obsessive Awards, stay tuned!

Glastonbury Festival 2008

I’m not sure what it was this time around, but for the first time in many years, I didn’t really connect to this year’s Glastonbury Festival. Perhaps it was the fact that it didn’t rain. Well, not much anyway. Perhaps it was the bill that didn’t have any really charismatic names on it or perhaps it was just me getting old and blasé?

So I find myself struggling to nominate my usual top three awards this year. None of the headliners caught my eye. Kings of Leon were reasonable but didn’t win me over. Jay-Z didn’t convert me to rap although his set had been carefully thought out to counter criticism that he didn’t belong at a ‘rock’ event and although The Verve weren’t that bad, they didn’t really cast off the tag of ‘has-beens’ that seemed to hang over them.

So what am I left with?

Well, third prize goes to the enigmatic Alison Goldfrapp even without the horse’s tail. This year we were treated to her ‘folk’ period music accompanied by papier-mâché beasts and a dress that looked like a shredded shower curtain. Well up to standard then.

Second prize goes to Welsh chanteuse, Duffy - and this has nothing to do with the red hotpants. Rather it goes to a performer who just stood on stage and sang beautifully. No dancers, no gimmicks, just an honest performance of some great tunes.

And finally my top award goes to the Ting Tings, who despite my guarded review of their debut album earlier in this blog, produced a lively and thoroughly entertaining set that I really enjoyed watching and showed a degree of versatility that I thought might be beyond them given the fact that there’s only two of them. Comparisons with the White Stripes are usual, but the Ting Tings are entirely different in style and content. Playing on the John Peel stage, I did actually wonder whether Peely would’ve approved of their unashamedly throwaway pop but I loved them. Top Act!

As the years go by, it is great to see artists that once held a prominent place in my record collection play some of the lesser stages at distinctly non-prime times. Without fanfare or pressure to make a name for themselves, they have a relaxed outlook which conveyed a sense of calm to their audience. There were a few this year, Joan Baez, Candi Staton, Neil Diamond, Leonard Cohen and Jimmy Cliff amongst them but in particular was Joan Armatrading who played a beautifully poignant set and played some mean guitar to boot. Good on yer, Joan.

Finally – Amy Winehouse. Her live appearances are more akin to a car crash these days. To watch her slur through a load of OK songs left me both fascinated and disturbed in equal order. Can’t somebody help her, please?

Let’s hope next year perks the thing up a bit as it would be a crying shame if it were to slowly die the death of a thousand lacklustre acts.

Glasto - The Awards!

Whew! I’ve just completed the marathon task of watching all 12 hours or so of recorded Glastonbury highlights (thanks BBC) and have to say that, as usual, what a thoroughly enjoyable experience it was. The more so that I didn’t actually have to be there!

So. After much deliberation, five minutes at least, I am now ready to give out my awards to the best three acts – bearing in mind the limitations of only having seen those that were televised – in the customary reverse order.

In third place are the Killers, who I thought looked like a genuinely capable headline band this year, unlike the Arctic Monkeys, whom I really don’t get and the Who, who are just too familiar. Sounding a touch U2ish at times the Las Vegas outfit were melodic and dramatic in the best stadium rock tradition. Fabulous. Just as well I’m not an Elk lover!

In second place are the bizarre Brazilians, CSS who were thoroughly entertaining and bonkers in equal order. Who’d have thought that lycra catsuits were back in fashion? Oh…they’re not. In a strange way, this lot put me in mind of The Fall with their relentlessly patchworked rhythms and scattergun vocals – I’d like them to do a cover of Slang King or Pat Trip Dispenser just to test this assertion. I dare say I’ll get a load of comments from grim northerners telling me they’re nothing like them now. So moving swiftly on…

And in first place is the truly mesmerising duo of Rodrigo Y Gabriela, the Flamenco Heavy Metal guitarists. Until you have seen these two you just cannot conceive of how two acoustic guitars can produce the dynamics and gut wrenching excitement of Thrash Metal. And not a Marshall stack in sight. A bit of a cheek to get the audience to sing ‘Wish you were here’ all by themselves – how do they remember the words, do you have to learn them beforehand on the off chance or do you get handed a lyric sheet at the gate? Anyway, amazing stuff from the Irish Mexicans and I shall be investigating their CDs in the not too distant future.

Of the rest, Bjork was her usual fascinating self (loved the horn section) and the Pigeon Detectives kept me amused for at least a couple of songs – a rarity these days. Lily Allen was sweet and John Fogerty reminded us all how to write songs. Babyshambles were just that and I found Iggy Pop a shade disappointing. Is it me getting old or can’t new bands write melodies anymore? OK, it’s me. But really – they can’t. I can’t stand Paul Weller, but his set was bursting with great melodies, yet most other bright young things were monotone in the extreme (Killers excepted). Come on guys!

But frankly there’s nothing quite like live, as opposed to recorded, music. The highs are higher and the lows cannot be disguised by an MTV makeover. Who’s on next year?