Alright, now we're talking. Seasick Steve, Crowded House and Blunt, James Blunt. A former rider of freight trains, followed by a bunch of literate Kiwis, finished with a smooth mousse of squaddie turned crooner. If I can't find out what MOR means now, I never will!
So, for those who've endured the click, an admission: Seasick Steve blew both the following acts off the stage. He played six string, three string and one string guitars, conjured distortion out of all of them and regaled a crowd three times the size of Martha Wainwright's (the Martha is now the standard measure) with songs and banter about his uncommon life. There was definitely a mild air of voyeurism lingering over the field as Steve made his confessions (the song Doghouse Blues is a seemingly autobiographical account of a violent upbringing that nearly ends in murder) but a real connection between artist and crowd too.
Crowded House brought the weather with them, the song that is. The actual weather had arrived a couple of hours earlier, the sun burning through the clouds and forcing a mass change in clothing (the sort that might cause a dip in Millett's share price). Neil Finn and his band attracted a big crowd, five Martha's worth, and a small sea of flags accompanied it, incorporating national flags from South Africa, Brazil, Australia, Mexico, Ireland and, yes, Yorkshire.
The music? Well, it felt like MOR to me. The mid-song banter (Finn conducting a protracted attempt to get the security staff to disobey their orders and turn towards the stage) was great, but the songs were nigh-on anaemic, and for most people - it seemed - backing music to an afternoon in the sun. They closed with the Weather song and everyone applauded before walking off. It all felt like a big list-ticking exercise.
But the Blunt? Oh, the Blunt he was different. So many people - since learning that my day was to be built around the Blunt - have asked me to get James Blunt is a cunt into print. After having seen him this afternoon, however, I will have no truck with such behaviour. The man may be a herculean ball of cheese, but he has umpteen hit songs and big puppy dog eyes - and these can carry someone an awful long way.
At the beginning of his set, Blunt encountered difficulty. It appeared the ironic posse were out in full effect, singing along badly to opening numbers Breathe and Beautiful Dawn as if on purpose.
Slowly, though, the tide changed. Blunt kept on bringing the hits - Wise Man, Goodbye My Lover - and the lads who, behind me, had been chanting Mighty Boosh songs on top of his lyrics were suddenly standing up and singing along all earnest like.
Blunt, whose canine eyes had been beginning to look bewildered, suddenly turned lustrous again and he brought out a totally storming version of Because I Love You as a result. Everyone then got up on their feet and, you know what?, there was one of those Glasto moments when everyone feels as if they're all together, just for a brief second. Blunt then railed against the media sowing gloom about Glasto, reminded us he'd played the festival three times now and closed out the set.
That's another thing about MOR artists, they have the common touch.
