Once again, the gates of the worlds largest, loony filled and littered festival have shut. The whole 5 days have exploded into a rocket launch; propelling almost as fast as fans away from Mr West's set on Saturday night. It was the shear adrenaline of what was thought to be a fairly disorganised year, with Foo Fighters out of the act, Kanye bringing his bars to the farm, 'gasps' a female indie act for Friday night and oh let's not forget the controversy behind the future of our beloved mud bath.
I fasten over the fidgety straps of the best three pounds I've ever spent-an umbrella hat, as the 30 year old double decker chugs down the hill to Pilton. It is not long before we are confronted by the timeless Glastonbury spirit of hearty optimism when the old engine stalls at the yellow gate entrance. It is now down to the dark eyed but still grit-toothed smiling wardens to get us in through the most rock n roll style way possible for an entry to Somerset's music mecca. Hark! we are towed on the back of a Landrover within minutes. Up and out I begin the same old familiar route to The John Peel Stage, standing in all its glory like a sore thumb in the gloom of cloud and drizzle. I was initially quite shocked at the amount of zombie-fied creatures trekking their way around; whether to the long drop loos, sink or even the exit. I had to remember that 10.45am is like a 5am wake up call for the all weekenders. And it is Sunday. Perhaps more apocalyptic than ever after the last 48 hours have seen the likes of Wolf Alice, Florence and the Machine and Leftfield!
Peeping briefly into the tent, I manage to catch around 10 minutes of Southampton based singer-songwriter Lucy Kitchen. It appeals to me that, as usual with such early sets, that if on a few hours later her intricate yet entirely capturing vocals would have attracted a much larger crowd, although for such an hour the mellow rhythms were perfect to summon this morning's walking dead back to action. I then continued to sludge through Silver Hayes (aka the sprawling dance village on constant throb throughout the weekend) of course deserted mostly with just some warm up sessions. It wasn't long until I reached the newly configured Other Stage, with a eye warping sculpture to drag punters in. I significantly prefer it from the old design, if you picture the Reading main stage all jazzed up with hippy galore that is what we have here for the next band on my list, Rival Sons. I briefly skimmed over their name in the necklace guide, in Glastonbury's words they're a bunch pummelling California rockers and in all honesty I was more intrigued to see them than The Smyths at Williams Green (exceptional tribute band, but have been there/done that). Main tune of the moment, 'Open My Eyes' from their 2014
album, 'Great Western Valkyrie' bought the crowd into higher spirits. Although sometimes edging onto cheese-rock, lead singer and guitarist Jay Buchanan thrusts suddenly almost each song into a gutsy solo with absolute raw power, it proves to us that they aren't all as rehearsed as they may come across. Previous belters such as 2012's 'Keep On Swinging' were the ultimate burst of noise to get my neck into action. It is notable that a good few Foo's fans were here too, 'BRING BACK DAVE' being the most prominent of flags. For Rival Sons their badass maturing is something of interest, with a European tour kicking off yesterday in Swansea.
8/10
After many an hour listening to Bridie Monds-Watson at some godly hour on Radio 1, it was a real delight to notice that I could witness her ghostly euphoria of ambiance and chilling lyrics on such a grand stage. Also at a reasonable hour where many a festival goer seeks a more ear comforting aesthetic. She walks onto the stage with what I would say a slightly overwhelmed expression. One of the first, 'Sea Creatures' gets hips slowly cranking into action but it's evident that SOAK will have to beef up a few tracks if she really wants to awaken the more alienated of us. After about two of her dusky, quaking tracks it has brought the crowd and setting of slowing drizzle into perspective, Soak has no trouble of
beaming straight into one of the 40 minute highlights, 'B A Nobody' where each delicate riff sends shivers . What has warmed so many to attention over the last year or so it her freshness to the industry, only 1 year older than myself, young Bridie makes a statement of unpolluted music and production. Alike the band before her, she thanks the crowd for attending in meek conditions and frames of mind. However it is the set closer from Soak, that for me defiantly pulled her set up to the next level. SOAK leaks without warning into tremendous clash and sonic fusion of reverb, wah wah, and screeching treble almost pushes her and the to abstract frontiers, almost. I cannot quote on what one of her songs this was in particular, but did it matter against the sound? What I did appreciate was that at this moment she truly knocked the socks off the gloating individuals of the crowd, a crazy fury of pedal pushing embarked onto the stage and for sure took us by surprise. The ignition may have been a bit slow to start, but what we could be hearing soon looks to be much more explosive.
8/10
Now I venture on the rather splendid and generously steep walk to The Park Stage, a particular favourite discovery from last year. The setting of the place was 10x more extravagant and all the time more peaceful. A plate of chow mein and a spring roll had me slumped next to the sound system in waiting for--
What initially pulled me up to Worthy Farm's heavens in the first place was Jack's supreme diversity and slick, shiny quality to his music. Out he comes as a ginger, bearded lad and in his button like eyes you see his personality straight as someone who thinks and produces of the wall. After all, his multi-instrumental structure is stunning> It's gained him much attention from the likes of Radio 1 DJ Annie Mac, broadcasting him on a Channel 4 insight into 2015's most promising artists for the future. Of course one favourite of mine was spectacular in all its glittery synths and angelic vocal samples, 'The Love You're Given.' perhaps being like a James Blake moment, Garret achieved this aesthetic shine to be even more skilled considering the standard time of an afternoon slot. His confetti glinted bass rings out across the small valley and more flock to see his magic. Although it was proceeded by another blaster from the London man, 'Chemical '. Which not surprisingly, at the name got a few cheers from the eye goggling hippies next to me. He responds by hammering away at his beat pad, spitting " My love is chemical, shallow and chauvinistic" later repeating " So don't try to reason" . Does he seek to escape these realities when he adds in a savage drum n bass chorus? sending the crowd into a light but systematic rave. Garrat blends the line between down to earth/ nitty gritty singer/songwriter and experimentalist electronica. Hence it's so enlightening to witness his creativeness. He seems entirely grateful for the impressive showing and it's not long before he starts conjuring with a guitar. To close his set, many chanted "Jimmy!" as all out anarchy broke lose between finger and fretboard. It was a blistering pulse of passion from someone who has impressed us all so very much through his unpredictability . Keep your eyes open for this guy.
9/10
Back down I travel, with a bit of time to boogie to some deep driven house at the Bimble Inn ( dredlock, patchwork wearing hippies again) I looked a bit out of place with my pink wig but met some fellow dancers who were on their 15h Glastonbury and looked about 25.
pump into '180' 's 'Rattlesnake Highway'. I'm immediately thrown into the most keen area of the crowd where mosh galore is now a reality. Glastonbury has long awaken by now. They thrust around into the ultimate clash of instruments at the end with sweat shining off their foreheads, transferring to the crowd also. Their relentless scruffy slash of emotion is exuberantly dominate throughout the whole set, but a few old favourites get the wall of deaths kick started; 'All the Garden Birds' brings a mass singalong of joy as the sun brightens. (note- even seagulls are around us to pick up the chip wrappers, sort of a garden we guess!). Although when they sprint psychotically into the album, 'Danger In The Club' they bring in just the four records, at least well balanced between others. 'On The Beach' has me up on someone's shoulders with a brief TV appearance and sexy pointing gesture from Chilli after my frantic headbanging. It is worth noting that yes, maybe their second album does sound sexier and more jazzed up. Still a fair dosage of carnage and all the new turmoil the 4 piece face, but live they're all seething to almost reach out and touch the crowd. Especially after the viscous and sly tailed 'English Tongue' Both Sam and Chilli end on tipping point of the
stage as a wall of death opens out for 'We Found Love' it all its glory. The best element to take away from my debut Palma Violets gig is that, after 2 years of learning the words on car jounreys and in revision sessions they cause an emotive, happy air across the crowd. We're all left like chesire cats, high on whatever they injected us with when 'Best of Friends' sends us screaming, "Jumping Janet till the end! I wanna be your friend!". Despite that being the obvious set closer they leave us on the jagged ends of 'Jonny Bagga Donuts' where a cascade of drums sent us all into a bliss of harmony and adoration as the shrug off the stage. Palma Violets had hundreds on their every word, at last we have our hangovers romanticised into a glamour that only few bands can pull off.
9/10
Yep, it's back to The Park again to see the most fucked up band in the country. A rowdy,
revolting 5 piece from London who have been engaging well in one of Glastonbury's themes for 2015, protest. One mark Lias (lead singer) made to demonstrate was openly pulling his willy out on stage for all us looking straight at him. Wonderful. But there were more important things to be taking from this 4.15 slot of course!. Fellow band mate Saul comes out to "make some noise" probably whilst Lias is well you know, 'preparing'. Probably through the staggering hole in his jeans. After a fairly decent sing song, the full band waltz out and messily froth their guitar into (my personal favourite from their album 'Champagne Holocaust') 'Auto Neutron'. Lias comes down and slowly walks out his own dance as the rumbling intro begins. As I've found out, the band really do treat the stage as their playground. As he already embraces the crowd I finally notice that huge slash in his jeans which never really finishes on the pass up to his groin, but never the matter the lead singer alone creates this enchanting presence over us all. I shouldn't like them at all, they sing about wanking, whacking up and world attractions. But I do. They turn their precision up a notch when it comes to 'I Am Mark E Smith' . The band, despite various changes over the years bounce
off eachother really well and although it's only too easy to see Lias's insanity, each one of
them contributes to this clutter of noise effortlessly. It is then that I join the mosh pit and at some point, perhaps during 'Cream of the Young' I am launched through the air and crash into the front row. At some points their narcotic nemesis of sound runs a bit short, they drift into 'Whitest Boy On The Beach' and various other stages with the sense of predictability. So what do the Fat Whites do? they drive full speed into the crowds most beloved, 'Touch The Leather' . It is one hell of pouring squander, the tangling, itchy riff makes hands stand on end and eyes wobble as once again he lolls into us, I am compressed to the point of pain and finally manage a way through to stroke Lias's hair/arm/body. My friend tells me after that such a person is too disgusting to touch. I agree, but their music isn't.
8/10
I then progressed to eat a fajitas and go to The Stonebridge Bar, just across from the Park Stage. I encountered perhaps some of the best dancing in my life to a band named Fleetmac Wood. More on that in the next article so stay tuned!
-I was absolutely gutted to have missed Cambridge rap, singer songwriter revelation Kate Tempest and a Glasto signature reggae act of London's Kiko Bun. Fleetmac Wood really did get me. Never the less my conquest continued to Silver Hayes
I read today at some time on buzzfeed.com that someone spoke, "Four Tet looks like my uncle, if my uncle was Four Tet" . So if Pete Tong is the father of dance, do we have another member to add to the family? It was that I would enter ( yes I'll admit it) my first proper rave at the WOW Stage, I've only ever danced outside it in the past which I rightly refused to qualify as 'raving'. Let's cut to the chase. A solo 37 year old Londoner who just doesn't know when to pack it in. Hence the reason he has a 3 hour set tonight, the longest of the lot for Silver Hayes. It was really refreshing to hear earlier on in the day that people literally did recognise him when I answered their questions to who I was seeing.I walked in around 20 minutes into his set, not a dent in the sheer depth that the tent was barely swimming above to keep up with his cranked up lab experimentalism. I glanced at my limbs systematically shuffling and twitching in the strobe lights which even seemed to be on acid themselves. I have to say, that his start to mid set was the most mind boggling journey of wobbly bass chemically mixed up with random outbursts of wonderland elation. It sent fellow young ravers asking me when the time was right to take their acid. I was
struggling to answer because every moment seemed like perfection for such a high, not that one was completely necessary, I stuck to the auditorial version of a drug. By that I mean his exquisite works on most recent album 'Beautiful Rewind' (2014) with stand out tracks of pure pristine electronica, 'Parralel Jalebi'. But where Four Tet did tick my boxes was how he blended the off the beat experimentalism into a pure hardcore bass driven world. His music neither sits on one side or the other of outer galactic symphony or just the standard 'blast the speakers out' sound. What really worked was a bit of both, for example in his track from recent EP 'Percussions' named 'Sext'. It fiddles in and out of ploppy telephone dial beats and an original polished hi-hat backing. After having gone out for a breather since my feet had frozen stiff in cramp, briefly having a congregation/foot massage with a friend and re-entering Four Tet had embarked onto the slightly more surreal. Whether that was a good effect or not, the beat got all to high pitch and repetitive for myself, but it was worthwhile to say the least. Another 2 hours of this has him as the most upcoming DJ to rival Mr Jamie xx in my opinion.
8/10
We left to head South eastwards, whilst waiting for the loo we were lucky enough to witness the first 2 songs of The Chemical Brothers on the Other Stage. 'Hey Girl, Hey Boy' broke out into all out frenzy before mixing neatly into 'EML Ritual' as we passed onwards the climax was heavenly to witness and dance along the way to Shangri La! From what I saw it was a solid 9/10! . I panicked not, with the largest crowd I have ever seen for the Other Stage, I'm sure we won't be seeing the last of the Manchester crew.
To Shangri La we ventured! For those of you who have no idea what this is or where,
Once again I tell you to read my next article for all the ins and outs of the festival. But I can't believe I'm doing this,yes I'm giving a band 10/10 for a gig because well, it was like a drugged up dream of psychedelic trance delusion.
So, that is it for another year down at he farm! My one day of pure madness was again, shockingly exuberant in every light. Next year hopefully I can venture forth to stay for the whole weekend! ( imagine how long that article will be!) . Although of the experiences I have had are indescribable in almost every wonderful sense, I do hope hat what I have said has persuaded you that Glastonbury certainly lifts artists to a whole new dimension of connecting with music and most of all us! I am looking forwards to writing about all other affairs I merrily discovered at some point this week! Stay tuned.
I fasten over the fidgety straps of the best three pounds I've ever spent-an umbrella hat, as the 30 year old double decker chugs down the hill to Pilton. It is not long before we are confronted by the timeless Glastonbury spirit of hearty optimism when the old engine stalls at the yellow gate entrance. It is now down to the dark eyed but still grit-toothed smiling wardens to get us in through the most rock n roll style way possible for an entry to Somerset's music mecca. Hark! we are towed on the back of a Landrover within minutes. Up and out I begin the same old familiar route to The John Peel Stage, standing in all its glory like a sore thumb in the gloom of cloud and drizzle. I was initially quite shocked at the amount of zombie-fied creatures trekking their way around; whether to the long drop loos, sink or even the exit. I had to remember that 10.45am is like a 5am wake up call for the all weekenders. And it is Sunday. Perhaps more apocalyptic than ever after the last 48 hours have seen the likes of Wolf Alice, Florence and the Machine and Leftfield!
 |
| A Cheery Sunday Morning on the way to John Peel! |
Peeping briefly into the tent, I manage to catch around 10 minutes of Southampton based singer-songwriter Lucy Kitchen. It appeals to me that, as usual with such early sets, that if on a few hours later her intricate yet entirely capturing vocals would have attracted a much larger crowd, although for such an hour the mellow rhythms were perfect to summon this morning's walking dead back to action. I then continued to sludge through Silver Hayes (aka the sprawling dance village on constant throb throughout the weekend) of course deserted mostly with just some warm up sessions. It wasn't long until I reached the newly configured Other Stage, with a eye warping sculpture to drag punters in. I significantly prefer it from the old design, if you picture the Reading main stage all jazzed up with hippy galore that is what we have here for the next band on my list, Rival Sons. I briefly skimmed over their name in the necklace guide, in Glastonbury's words they're a bunch pummelling California rockers and in all honesty I was more intrigued to see them than The Smyths at Williams Green (exceptional tribute band, but have been there/done that). Main tune of the moment, 'Open My Eyes' from their 2014
8/10
SOAK
After many an hour listening to Bridie Monds-Watson at some godly hour on Radio 1, it was a real delight to notice that I could witness her ghostly euphoria of ambiance and chilling lyrics on such a grand stage. Also at a reasonable hour where many a festival goer seeks a more ear comforting aesthetic. She walks onto the stage with what I would say a slightly overwhelmed expression. One of the first, 'Sea Creatures' gets hips slowly cranking into action but it's evident that SOAK will have to beef up a few tracks if she really wants to awaken the more alienated of us. After about two of her dusky, quaking tracks it has brought the crowd and setting of slowing drizzle into perspective, Soak has no trouble of
8/10
Now I venture on the rather splendid and generously steep walk to The Park Stage, a particular favourite discovery from last year. The setting of the place was 10x more extravagant and all the time more peaceful. A plate of chow mein and a spring roll had me slumped next to the sound system in waiting for--
Jack Garrat
9/10
Back down I travel, with a bit of time to boogie to some deep driven house at the Bimble Inn ( dredlock, patchwork wearing hippies again) I looked a bit out of place with my pink wig but met some fellow dancers who were on their 15h Glastonbury and looked about 25.
Palma Violets
After all this time I still haven't been able to witness the all out carnage of our favourite Lambeth band. At the drop of their raucous second album, 'Danger In The Club', I was interested to hear their set list, since admittedly I prefer the rough and tumble of their 2013 debut '180'. It's amazing how one gig changes your mind eh? Every girl gets the gasp of delight at the sight of bassist/singer Chilli Jesson as he swoons around the place before it's even started as if the wind placed them there to bless the skies before us. Practically sex on legs. After a brief sound check they
9/10
Fat White Family
Yep, it's back to The Park again to see the most fucked up band in the country. A rowdy,
8/10
I then progressed to eat a fajitas and go to The Stonebridge Bar, just across from the Park Stage. I encountered perhaps some of the best dancing in my life to a band named Fleetmac Wood. More on that in the next article so stay tuned!
-I was absolutely gutted to have missed Cambridge rap, singer songwriter revelation Kate Tempest and a Glasto signature reggae act of London's Kiko Bun. Fleetmac Wood really did get me. Never the less my conquest continued to Silver Hayes
Four Tet
I read today at some time on buzzfeed.com that someone spoke, "Four Tet looks like my uncle, if my uncle was Four Tet" . So if Pete Tong is the father of dance, do we have another member to add to the family? It was that I would enter ( yes I'll admit it) my first proper rave at the WOW Stage, I've only ever danced outside it in the past which I rightly refused to qualify as 'raving'. Let's cut to the chase. A solo 37 year old Londoner who just doesn't know when to pack it in. Hence the reason he has a 3 hour set tonight, the longest of the lot for Silver Hayes. It was really refreshing to hear earlier on in the day that people literally did recognise him when I answered their questions to who I was seeing.I walked in around 20 minutes into his set, not a dent in the sheer depth that the tent was barely swimming above to keep up with his cranked up lab experimentalism. I glanced at my limbs systematically shuffling and twitching in the strobe lights which even seemed to be on acid themselves. I have to say, that his start to mid set was the most mind boggling journey of wobbly bass chemically mixed up with random outbursts of wonderland elation. It sent fellow young ravers asking me when the time was right to take their acid. I was 
8/10
 |
| Hey boy! hey girl! |
We left to head South eastwards, whilst waiting for the loo we were lucky enough to witness the first 2 songs of The Chemical Brothers on the Other Stage. 'Hey Girl, Hey Boy' broke out into all out frenzy before mixing neatly into 'EML Ritual' as we passed onwards the climax was heavenly to witness and dance along the way to Shangri La! From what I saw it was a solid 9/10! . I panicked not, with the largest crowd I have ever seen for the Other Stage, I'm sure we won't be seeing the last of the Manchester crew.
To Shangri La we ventured! For those of you who have no idea what this is or where,
-It's a complete other universe of wonderful and wacky ideas split into areas (Shangri heaven, Shangri hell, The common, The Unfairground, Block 9 and many others) for late night goers to attend between 10.30pm and well breakfast time I guess.
-It is on the complete other side of the festival.
Once again I tell you to read my next article for all the ins and outs of the festival. But I can't believe I'm doing this,yes I'm giving a band 10/10 for a gig because well, it was like a drugged up dream of psychedelic trance delusion.MY BABY
We rather stumbled, if not were lavishly twirled in by an man outside dressed in a French revolution caviller costume into a bar in Shangri-Hell, called The House of Comeons. Inside a small enough but decent space to dnce and one band who after witnessing for 5 minutes couldn't take our instinct to rush off and find more. We had and wanted to endure this pilgrimage to a music land we had never ever thought of laying our ears upon. A three piece band from The Netherlands who this night were on their 7th set of the weekend. However this must have been the most intimate of the lot. For you my reader, I am going to describe them as they have exactly done on the handed out paper pamphlet; Tribal, Blues, Indie, Delta, Trance Funk fusion. Well what the hell does that sound like? I have trawled through two of their albums which are readily available from bandcamp. One listen to their track, 'Shameless' brings through a melting pot of beautiful intoxicating guitar bends and slides.The thing that draws your ears
and soul in most is lead singer Cato Van Dyck's wistful and harmonising vocals, she takes this to an absolute full advantage when the whole set is revved up to maximum reverb, distortion and echo to the point of completely exceeding recorded versions by 10 times. Both albums of 'Shamanaid' and 'Loves Vodoo' get an equal cram of exhilaration into a set which keeps getting the warn to finish but never seems to end, 'Uprising' is also extravagantly impressive, a bluesy hook rips up and down each crackling fret and now echoed vocals are at their strongest ever. A wah wah effect breaks into a mass dance along as a flurry of people enter the bar, a woman with her boobs out gets the groove on and it is truly the most fun I think we've all had all night. Covering around 20 miles of walking in one day has my feet bent backwards, but I possibly danced in such a fashion that all sense was gone, especially as the climax of their set rung
out. A cover of Bob Dylan's 'Masters Of War'. Cato's fellow guitarist ends up strumming the veins out of himself just inches from me on the floor as I install a pair of glow stick ears on my head. Somehow her brother, Jost cascades the drums in such a fashion that makes the tiny room break out into an up-thrawl of house music fashion, is that possible? truly? Cato's flared outfit mimics her slow and steady movements as she utters" I hope that you will die and your death will come soon!" I utterly think I have at the outbreak of jam-band bliss. which I am yet to remember what. Eventually their set did cut off into a mass distortion of a finale. The band, one topless, ones beard almost falling off with adrenaline and the other just so glitzed and glamoured in the light of this tiny nook, that we all managed to discover has now become a haven for what went down at My Baby. Do damn snazzy.
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| LET'S GET PSYCHOTIC! |
10/10
So, that is it for another year down at he farm! My one day of pure madness was again, shockingly exuberant in every light. Next year hopefully I can venture forth to stay for the whole weekend! ( imagine how long that article will be!) . Although of the experiences I have had are indescribable in almost every wonderful sense, I do hope hat what I have said has persuaded you that Glastonbury certainly lifts artists to a whole new dimension of connecting with music and most of all us! I am looking forwards to writing about all other affairs I merrily discovered at some point this week! Stay tuned.
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