Playlouder - Music is the Network

FRIDAY

Famously at Glastonbury, if you have the legs and the time, you can take a bite out of every musical genre in the world and still not be full by sunset. The sky is a moody grey and everyone's standing in torrential rain in the jazz field trying to enjoy non-american Americans Alabama 3. They seem to bring the opening band party spirit but even the inclusion of “got yourself a gun” can't distract from how similar all their songs are.

MGMT seem to be carrying enough buzz to fill the John Peel tent two times over, though they don't quite have enough great songs to justify it just yet, though Skins mega hit “Time To Pretend”is a gigantic festival anthem. Just next door Freestylers ram the West Dance tent with a four-deck rinseout with a live M.C. Rolling through just about every old skool rave anthem you'd ever need to know. From those weird half-arsed hippy girls with really short hair to the red-faced old men gurning from bad pills, the dance vibes are in everyone’s vains (and the village doesn’t stop pumping all weekend.) Just a little walk away at the other stage, The Enemy play not only the set of their lives, but the set of the weekend. Walking on like they own the stage with “Away from here”, every song is screamed louder than any other band by an absolute mile. It’s more like a football gig than a rock show. This was one of those rare gigs where you come out of it visibly buzzing, you can see how they sold out six nights at London Astoria off the back of performances like this. Someone actually lit one of those amazing red flares (like in those uber-violent football games in Turkey) halfway through “Aggro.” A great moment.
Headliners Panic At The Disco are a guilty pleasure, (particularly when you have to miss Kings Of Leon to see them) but an awesome band all the same. The field is one long cheesy singalong after another, and even the new songs are reluctantly enjoyable, such as Panic’s charm. “Camisado”, “Nine In The Afternoon”, and “The Only Difference Between Sucide And Martyrdom Is Press Coverage” being the set highlights. Incredibly, Peter Docherty is playing on the tiny and intimate “Park” stage, and is fine form, banging out “Don’t look back in to the sun”, “La Belle et La Bete” and “Beg, Steal, and Borrow,” cementing his place as one of the great singer-songwriters of our time.

SATURDAY

The “festival within a festival” the Dance Village continues with Metronomy who play their typically amazing dance/new rave/new wave pop gems with enough charm and sarcasm to win over the audience in a ridiculously early timeslot. However. The Teenagers are exactly half as funny and as talented as they think they are, and only the sweet sweet chorus of “I love my English romance, I fucked her american cunt” (in “Homecoming) saves their set from being a complete disaster. No such problems for Holy Fuck who are not only the most leftfield dance acts playing this year, they’re also one of the best in the world, making sounds no-one else can touch right now, and it’s fantastic to see a band like this make it to the John Peel stage. He would’ve absolutely loved them!

Hot Chip seem to have payed God to make sure they have the perfect sound for their co-headlining slot tonight, where they play a near-perfect collection of pop/dance anthems, even throwing in Wiley (9) for a crazy cross-genre cover of his hit “Wearing my rolex.” Hot Chip's clever multi-instrumentalism was perfect for a festival crowd today…even more so, “controversial headliner” (the fuss: at best, elitism, at worst, racism) Jay-Z Opened his set with a video montage of all the nonsense surrounding his slot, juxtaposing Noel’s “Glastonbury? No Fuckin’ chance!” with a cover of Wonderwall and straight in to “99 problems.” What an opener! Aside from that, it was a nice change of pace to hear Hip Hop on the big stage, and you can’t deny he was a fantastic headliner. (Unless you weren’t there, a lot of people were saying Massive Attack were band of the weekend, and I felt guilty for not watching them.)

SUNDAY

Does It Offend You, Yeah? are a laugh: “Someone gave me a piece of paper with a strawberry on it. I said, “cool!” strawberry sweets! Then they laughed and told me it was something else” Morgan gibbers, but they don’t have nearly enough good songs-“let’s make out” is moronic, and “epic last song” is neither epic nor their last song (Well, one out of two ain’t bad.) The whole world seems to be enjoying the hell out of the new improved Crystal Castles live set when singer Alice Glass climbs the rigging and the over-zealous Health-and-safety-rule-following sound guy pulls the plug, killing all power. Great job, guys! They re-start with (song of the year, anyone?) “Alice Practice” before the plus is pulled again for, I assume, crowd fears as Alice is crowdsurfing all over the front rows now. If Mr. Eavis really wants to know why there’s no atmosphere at times at Glastonbury it’s because genuine rock n’ roll moments like this (which are few and far between) get jumped on by security. I mean, damn, two security thugs manhandled and dragged Amy Winehouse off during her own set! These are your rulebreakers Mr. Eavis! Crystal Castles didn’t even get to play “Crimewave.” Always hyped as a band of the people, The Zutons have pulled a huge crowd today. Do they have the festival vibes? You’d find more life in the welfare tent. Saying they were going through the motions would be an insult to the motions. Uninspired, lazy songs gives way to the middle-aged men who are here to see them crashing out on their picnic mats and having sleeps all over the field. Get back to V Festival lads!

Though there's some discussion of whether the nostalgia factor is enough to propel The Verve to automatic Glastonbury headliners years since they wrote “Urban Hymns,” there's absolutely no doubting their performance tonight. Songs like “Sonnet,” “Heart and mind” are epic, and The Verve showcase virtually unrivalled musicianship and stage presence throughout. “Velvet Morning” turns back the clock a good ten years, while everyone either cries or bites their lip and hopes for the best when “The Drugs Don’t Work” rings out and makes the entire field think of the real cost of the drugs they’ve been doing that weekend-on themselves, on their relationships with others. The most sobering moment of the entire weekend, but somehow a hopeful one too. When Richard Ashcroft dedicates “Bittersweet Symphony” to everyone “who has to go back to working a job they hate tomorrow” it's a fitting end to an amazing Glastonbury.