The sun sets: Pharrell and Kanye to come
That’s all from this leg of our seemingly never-ending Glastonbury liveblog, but Michael Hann is just about to press “LAUNCH” on a new episode. He will be bringing you all the action from tonight, including performances from Pharrell Williams and that Kanye West.
So far today we have witnessed much, so thanks for hanging with us.
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Father John Misty and DFA updates!
Alexis Petridis has caught him some Father John Misty at the Park.
It’s a flatly brilliant and remarkably full throttle performance – in his stage guise as the misanthropic, wisecracking, shape-throwing Father John Misty, Josh Tillman is a genuinely fantastic performer. It helps that he has the songs to back up the knowingly histrionic posturing, but his deadpan between-song chat is almost as entertaining: “If you’re watching this at home, on mushrooms,” he says, staring directly into one of the BBC’s cameras midway through Bored In The USA, “I can see you. Your TV is talking to you.”
While Gwilym Mumford saw Death from Above at the John Peel stage.
Glasto fashion update: for reasons left tantalisingly unexplained, Death From Above 1979 drummer/singer Sebastian Grainger is sporting a T-shirt with Sinead O’Connor’s face on it at the band’s John Peel performance. That unexpected sartorial decision aside, you pretty much know what to expect from a DFA 1979 show: two Canadian men are going to play punishingly loud, punishingly fast noise-rock until either the set ends or one of them dies. That latter looks more likely at times here, but DFA 1979 have more subtlety than their bruising reputation suggests, with Trainwreck 1979 and Romantic Rights proving they can write a chorus as big as the best of them.
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The Maccabees on the Other stage
Jenny Stevens checks out Orlando and co.
Glastonbury is a long way from the capital, but tonight’s set is all about the Maccabees’ London hometown. Glorious set highlight Pelican is dedicated to the band’s friend and Friday night headliner Florence Welch, who can be seen dancing on top of a set of shoulders in the crowd, cheering and whooping. Earlier in the set, they bring out Wimbledon troubadour Jamie T for new song Marks to Prove It, and pay tribute to Elephant and Castle’s Faraday memorial, introducing Latchmere (A paean to Battersea Leisure Centre). Early track Precious Time is a reminder of just how far the band have come in three albums – the rattling indie pop a stark contrast to the lusher soundscapes of their new material. But for the fans, there are more pressing issues at play during tonight’s set than new songs. “His hair!” one festival goer shrieks, clearly bemused at frontman Orlando Bloom’s shaved locks. Felix too, has had a trim. “I still love them anyway,” she says. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Evidentially not.
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Paloma Faith at the Pyramid
Rachel Aroesti has seen Paloma Faith performing on the Pyramid because, frankly, someone had to. She reports:
Early on in her performance, Paloma Faith berates herself for having “verbal diarrhoea”. Apparently, she said something derogatory about Glastonbury recently – and if the crowd weren’t aware of any negative vibes before, they certainly are now. In honesty, that misstep makes little difference to the already pretty muted reception she’s greeted with, as she prances on to her stage set that resembles that of a 70s variety show (all white, lots of stairs).
Faith has kitschy stage presence to spare – cute dance moves executed with huge energy, an alway inventive costume (tonight, a backless, thighless tuxedo-style catsuit and yellow hair) – but her songs aren’t quite so distinctive: the set mainly consists of a sludgy retro soul hybrid that struggles to gain any real momentum (Faith has always had an issue producing memorable songs). Her stage banter keeps it interesting though, even if her speaking style is a bit Bruce Forsyth meets John Lydon: patronising, old school and at points a bit aggro. She wisely winds things up by bringing d’n’b duo Sigma on stage to perform their No 1 single Changing, and finally the crowd have a familiar song to get behind. Faith certainly knows how to put on a show, it’s just a shame she doesn’t have any decent material of her own to fill it with.
One FACT not mentioned above: Rachel now reports that “a woman next to me in the crowd took her bizarre catsuit off so that she was completely naked and then squatted down for five minutes, before putting her clothes back on and walking off with her friends.” That’s 70s variety fun for you.
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The Tube train tent returns
Perched up above the Pyramid there’s what looks very like a London Underground tube train. But it is a tent!
“We’ve got 18 of us in here this year,” Will Grey, 26, from London, told our intrepid reporter. “Packed like sardines. It’s a bit bent and bashed up now – we’ve done three festivals in it now: two Glastonburys and then Farr festival in Hertfordshire – so there are a few holes popping up. It’s fine unless it rains.”
Connor Gettle, Vancouver, 23, exclusively revealed: “It weighs about 40-50 kg, it took three hours to get it up here from the car, but it was worth it.”
Grey answered the key question. “How do we sleep? It’s a bit disjointed: it’s bliss for about two hours once everyone’s back and they’ve all gone to sleep …”
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Kanye update
And you thought he was going to be one of the growing number of festival goers to cycle here. You get to lock your bike up for free, don’t you know?
That is all, although someone is wondering: “Is Kanye rocking a country gent look for the festival?”
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Idris Elba gets the party pumping, perhaps
Gwilym Mumford has been in Silver Hayes.
Saturday evening in the dance village and there’s a load of expectant revellers waiting for someone to get the party started. Step forward … err, the bloke who played Stringer Bell in The Wire. Actually, it’s not quite as incongruous as it sounds: Elba’s been DJing for a decade or so, and fronted a Channel 4 documentary on clubbing. Some clunky changeovers aside, he’s competent enough on the decks, and works up an impressive sweat. Track selection is where things go a little awry, with an endless churn of thumpingly ordinary house tracks failing to hit the mark. Though things are at least enlivened at the end by Idris taking off his shirt.
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Clean Bandit: posh pop saved by top vox
Tshepo Mokoena has seen Clean Bandit with her own eyes on the Other stage.
Clean Bandit are as eager to please as they’ve ever been. Maybe, when you’re a band crawling your way back into people’s good graces after a cringe-heavy advert for a Windows Phone personal assistant, it’s the only option. The pop-house four-piece are still bludgeoning us with their combination of 90s-inspired dance music and the odd violin flourish, fronted brilliantly today by singer Elisabeth Troy. Without her, they feel like a few posh kids who want to show off both their musical chops and a secret desire to have been old enough to hit the clubs in the 90s. Their cover of Show Me Love by Robin S elicits a joyfully enthusiastic singalong, matched by their closer – and biggest hit – Rather Be. It’s smiley and saccharine sweet, saved by the power of Troy’s voice and her ridiculously charismatic stage presence.
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Gals a bubble – as pictured today ...
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Some other tips for Glasto virgins
@ben_bt less is more. try late night suprise sets at Crows Nest, Strummerville and Piano Bar.
— rob ball (@oldierob) June 24, 2015
Well, it wasn’t at night but the Crow’s Nest got a look in on a glorious afternoon:
Another tip for Glasto virgins:
@ben_bt The Groovy Movie Picture House is really good.
— Stephen Wicks (@StephenWicks83) June 24, 2015
I checked it out and it is indeed lovely – a great little solar-powered space by the Healing Field. I popped in for a couple of minutes of Shaun the Sheep, but it was too nice to stay indoors ... a potentially great haven for any future rain though.
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I’m still on my quest as a Glastonbury virgin to tick off your suggestions for essential stuff to do on site. My favourite so far has been this from Anna Codrea-Rado:
@ben_bt go to the healing fields and get a by-donation session with an osteo
— Anna Codrea-Rado (@annacod) June 24, 2015
So I did, and encountered Neil, who has made my back feel infinitely better by cracking it this way and that. “Ah, the younger ones tend not to always make their appointments,” he says on greeting. He thinks I’m young! And then notes that “young people like you tend to have less subcutaneous fat than the elderly, so it’s easier to massage them.” He thinks I don’t have that much subcutaneous fat despite having only eaten kebabs and peanut butter for two days! I love Neil already.
He wears pointy wax tips on his ears, like a cut-price Vulcan, but assures me that they won’t interfere with the service – he tucks his long blond locks behind them, and they protect against sunburn too.
As he does his work, he tells me about his other clients. “One woman, I could feel her heart beating really fast in her ribcage. I asked: are you alright? Her friend said: don’t worry, it’s just the ecstasy.” Spangled people: apparently you can slightly massage the liver and it makes a comedown less bad, but probs leave it to Neil rather than your untrained mate.
I turned over and put my head through the hole in the massage bed (which doubles up as Neil’s actual bed each night). Beneath me lay a laminated Scott’s Porridge Oats box. Apparently his wife likes to look at the strapping kilted bloke on the cover. “She’s always trying to get me in a kilt”, Neil notes a little worriedly.
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Kim's calling
See below. Let us know if you have any wellies you can send her. Hunters preferably. Or something flirty with a heel.
What size shoe are you?
— Kim Kardashian West (@KimKardashian) June 27, 2015
Food Facts
Clean by name, clean by nature. Clean Bandit, or “The Bandits” as I like to call them, get ready for the Pyramid stage with a little lolly.
hello we r at #glastonbury i just got orange lolly on my t shirt 😒 anyway 1735 the other stage WAHOOOO pic.twitter.com/Pnv8Xuv6qJ
— Clean Bandit (@cleanbandit) June 27, 2015
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Hello. Harriet Gibsone here. Fresh from the field, I’ll be taking over the liveblog for a little bit. I promise to feed you the highest quality reportage from the site. In fact, I have a little bit of vital information to kick things off:
- James Corden is here. He’s wearing a bucket hat
- Allegedly Kanye wanted to bring an army truck on stage
- Ellie Goulding is going to do a 3am gabber set at the Glade this evening
One of these is a lie, guesses below the line!
Burt Bacharach swings the Pyramid stage
Harriet Gibsone has been watching a classic karaoke set from the 87-year-old songwriting legend.
The musician and his brassy backing band play all the camp karaoke classics - from Say a Little Prayer to Walk on By, (There’s) Always Something There To Remind Me, I’ll Never Fall In Love Again, Do You Know The Way To San Jose, What’s New Pussycat? and Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head (the latter of which they play twice, presumably expecting some more appropriate weather). Watched by the likes of Adele, Will Young and Daisy Lowe, the master songwriter looses a little bit of the audience towards the smulchy lounge section at the end, but if there’s one thing Saturday afternoon at this festival needs, it’s some sweet familiarity before Kanye polarises the Pyramid stage.
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Sleaford Mods: shouting about it
We sent Mark Beaumont to the John Peel stage for a loud afternoon of angry men shouting about stuff.
Thinking of entering the shouty agit-pop game? Then take a cautionary lesson from the crowd at the John Peel stage this afternoon. Newcomers Slaves court a gigantic audience bulging out of the tent with their comic bovver-punk and stage-diving mates in manta ray costumes. Twenty minutes later the angrier, more intense and significantly longer-in-the-tooth Sleaford Mods bark their karaoke rants at half Slaves’ crowd but garner twice the adulation. And post-punk pioneers the Pop Group, veterans of the style, keep barely a couple of hundred heads in the room for their malformed funk freak-outs, but those that stay are rabid diehards. Today’s lesson? Don’t count on the part-timers, basically, and don’t do it for the dollar.
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Kanye flies in
Tonight’s humble Pyramid headliner Kanye West is on his way to Worthy Farm in a chopper, according to wife Kim Kardashian, who tweeted the following pic, which very much makes it look like he’s the one flying the thing.
Glastonbury here we come... pic.twitter.com/wY8ZgFz4qn
— Kim Kardashian West (@KimKardashian) June 27, 2015
The view from the sofa
Michael Hann remains at home in front of the telly watching along with BBC viewers. This is his take on today’s action so far.
The BBC2 coverage appears to be fitting the mood of a hazy afternoon: the red button offers highlights from yesterday (and Catfish and the Bottlemen). The main programme is dealing in highlights rather than anything else. Mark Radcliffe is bringing his refreshing refusal to spew verbal exclamation marks into camera, with Lauren Laverne to supply the pep to those who wants it. But if you had to pick one pairing for the TV, it would probably these two – who do appear to have a genuine appreciation of music, rather than just shouting “YEAH! AMAZING!” every 30 seconds. While the experience of watching Glastonbury at home is, of course, not the same as being in Somerset, even that can bring you some unexpected moments … After last night’s liveblog finished, I sat down with a beer or two to unwind – then woke up on the sofa at 5am with spilled lager in my lap.
And Mark Radcliffe’s just brought a Kanye update: apparently his people took so long building his stage set overnight that they didn’t finish till 10.30am, delaying the Unthanks’ set up. And I’ll bring a Kanye prediction: Justin “Bon Iver” Vernon was spotted in London this week at the Nathaniel Rateliff gig. He’s got no album to promote, so might it be too much to suggest he might have flown over to appear at Worthy Farm with Kanye? Fiver says he will.
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Celeb spotting
Someone like who?
Look who’s arrived in the backstage area – it’s only renowned singer of songs Adele. Let the guest-spot rumours start here. Will she join Kanye? Will it be Pharrell? Or is she just here to enjoy a nice cold pear cider in the sun while she watches Father John Misty on the Park stage tonight?
In other such news:
- The Dalai Lama has apparently been spotted in Glastonbury Abbey. He won’t be on site today but there are suggestions that he’ll make a couple of special guest appearances when he’s at the festival tomorrow. We’re keeping mum.
- Kim Kardashian was photographed leaving a London hotel, apparently en route to Worthy Farm. We would show you the images if a) we were people like that b) they weren’t as revealing as they are
- Photographer Wolfgang Tillmans is definitely here: he was spotted DJing at Block9 at 11am this morning, with a host of drag queens raving with him.
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The great G2 covershoot mystery
The crew from our newspaper section G2 have been up at the top of the Park working on the cover of Monday’s Glastonbury special issue. They won’t tell us exactly what they’re up to, but they did send us this sneaky pic from behind the scenes.
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Young Fathers drop the mic
Outside the world of tropical tepid indie pop, here’s Paul MacInnes on Young Fathers, who just stepped off the Other stage.
Young Fathers don’t go out of their way to be likable. Their hip-hop hybrid is often abrasive, the lyrics are confrontational and they never, ever smile. So ideal festival fodder, then. The truth is that YF are a smart band, and while the attitude might be non-negotiable, their music is flexible enough to play up elements that will work well with a bigger crowd – namely big beats and sing-along refrains. Songs like Low and Get Up help the band cut through to the Other stage crowd, blissed out in the sunshine. They’re also helped by their physical performance, which mixes freaky, ecstatic dancing with the odd burst of funky moves. They never stop performing and by the end of the hour-long set the crowd are on their feet and cheering. The moody so and sos have pulled it off. By way of thanks, Young Fathers give the crowd a burst of R&B crooning, literally drop the mic and walk off.
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By George, it’s George
Harriet Gibsone has been out watching George Ezra on the Pyramid stage.
It takes a few minutes of George Ezra’s set for the lady next to me to realise she’s not watching Bombay Bicycle Club. Not that she’s disappointed when she discovers it’s the teen heartthrob and inter-railing aficionado. In fact, you get the impression that as long as the sound of tepid, tropical indie pop is floating through the hay-strewn fields this Saturday afternoon, it really wouldn’t matter if it were Katie Hopkins with a Westboro Baptist backing band on stage playing it. That’s not to say he doesn’t have fans who are here with serious intentions, however. The front of the Pyramid stage is a forest of flower garlands; girls shriek when he contentedly tells the audience he’s going to play a song about Ben, his best mate. The only remarkable thing about Ezra’s performance – aside from the amount of people wigging out over his uptempo cover of Macy Gray’s I Try – is just how much he’s able to command such a major stage. He doesn’t even break a sweat, as if he were in front of a few mates down the local pub rather than thousands at the Pyramid stage. Very pleasant, if that’s what you’re after.
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Can ye Kanye? A rant about ... rants
If there’s one thing that pisses this guy off then it’s people who rant. So he’s had a rant about it ...
Guardian gig tombola: The Lost Brothers
Our gig randomiser (ie getting journos to pull random names from a festival hat and packing them off to see them) sent Rachel Aroesti to see the Lost Brothers. She had this to say ...
It’s not only the Lost Brothers I can hear from my spot at the Acoustic stage – it’s also being soundtracked by actual snoring coming from the girl next to me. In fact, most of the audience look like they’re on the verge of unconsciousness. The Lost Brothers – two Irish brothers, each armed with an acoustic guitar and a bright and clear singing voice – play their traditional and delicate folk to remarkably soporific effect. Sending people to sleep is, for once, a testament to their music’s intended dreaminess: unashamedly and soothingly nostalgic, but never quite crossing over into tweeness, with lyrics that reference magicky folk tropes (mystical women etc), while sneaking in a bit of vague social commentary (“all we have is gold and silver”). They conclude by asking the audience to get on their feet – and the surprising effort made by slowly roused punters is enough to confirm the crowd’s affection.
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Glastonbelly!
Rachel Aroesti is still enjoying the festival’s plum job – taking pictures of everything she eats. This halloumi cone looks pretty nice ...
Can ye Kanye?
Our video series of Kanye West-inspired rants continues with this. The source of our man’s anger? Ice cream being served at the wrong temperature ...
Jane Weaver ... it’s time to be reviewed!
We're here at @GlastoFest! Playing the West Holts Stage tomorrow at 12:30pm and William's Green on Sunday at 3pm. pic.twitter.com/KqZFh1dFId
— Jane Weaver (@JanelWeaver) June 26, 2015
Sarah Phillips has been here doing lots of political stuff for our Comment Is Free site, but in her downtime she’s been reviewing bands, too. Here’s her take on Jane Weaver, who plays another set at William’s Green on Sunday at 3pm.
“Thanks for not going to Courtney Barnett,” Jane Weaver jokes. “I would have seen her. But I’m here.”
It’s just after midday, the sun is beaming and most of the crowd gathered at West Holts seem slightly dazed. What better soundtrack to waking up at Glastonbury than Weaver’s ethereal vocal gymnastics. This would be best experienced lying on the grass/mud. At least one audience member is brushing her teeth in time to the music.
Weaver, looking resplendent in a white “electric mountain spacesuit” as she calls it, that wouldn’t look out of place in Shangri-la, has a reassuringly relaxed air about her. “Think positively,” she advises.
Five albums in, it is mad that her early Goldfrapp meets Cocteau Twins via Kate Bush balearic-space-folk is only listened to by those in the know.
Today, her sublime 2014 album The Silver Globe gets a good airing. Don’t Take My Soul is even more mesmerising live, with Weaver’s incredible vocal range delivery seeming effortless. Cells is heartfelt and haunting. Spacing out has never been so tuneful.
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The verdict so far
Our chief pop and rock critic (that sounds enjoyably quaint, right?) Alexis Petridis will be writing some actual words about the festival as a whole in due course, but for now:
Guardian gig tombola!
It’s still going on! Ben Beaumont-Thomas provides the latest random dispatch after drawing “Monkey Pilot DJ set” from our gig tombola hat.
The Glade is a shady spot south of the Other stage, populated by people dancing like they’re flinging washing up suds off their hands while daintily stamping on cockroaches. Forget indie fans – this is the real core of Glastonbury, the hippies who generate the festival’s geniality and have trousers that could happily accommodate a teenage sapling in each leg. Between bands it plays host to a none-so-Glasto DJ set from Monkey Pilot, known for evergreen club night Whirl-y-gig, magnet for London’s ever-decreasing crusty element. The tough breakbeat sections are a bit much even for the fisherman-panted faithful, but when he plays spiritual drum’n’bass loaded with Indian chants, it has everyone gladly shaking off their hangovers. A Brazilian take on Original Nuttah (“Bad boys inna Rio!”) goes down very well, with the day’s first ciders getting flung about.
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Where have all the hippies gone?
Paul MacInnes has been searching for the original hippy spirit at Glastonbury. Does it still exist in 2015? Can we find a single old school hippy at this year’s event? And if so, how often do they wash? Never let it be said that we don’t provide the big answers ...
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Is everyone onsite really a Tory?
You’ve no doubt seen this doing the rounds on Twitter: a Guardian poll revealing that everyone onsite voted Tory or UKIP. It is, of course, not a proper poll or indeed anything to do with the Guardian. But don’t let that stop you enjoying it ...
reminder that the glastonbury is officially probably the most tory place in the world right now pic.twitter.com/GCWz27Lo4r
— Patrick (@PrayForPatrick) June 26, 2015
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The Waterboys face the review treatment
And it’s Caspar Llewellyn Smith in the critical hotseat (ie sweltering in front of the Pyramid). He says ...
Introducing the second song following a rousing Fisherman’s Blues, Mike Scott claims it’s autobiographical but probably “applies to 95% of you”. Cue Still a Freak. The sun’s beaming, the flags in the crowd are streaming in the gentle breeze and all that’s missing is the smell of pachouli oil. Scott is in extraordinarily fine voice and the band (including Muscle Shoals veteran David Hood) generally magnificent, especially Steve Wickham on electric fiddle, even if he looks dressed for an appearance in an Asterix book. This changes later when he dons a crow’s mask, and Scott puts on a three-faced harlequin number and starts quoting Yeats. In the metaphysical races, the stakes have been raised for Patti Smith tomorrow.
The Waterboys are Glastonbury veterans, but with the likes of Medicine Bow, We Will Not Be Lovers, a singalong for The Whole of the Moon and, of course, The Glastonbury Song, they sound pretty timeless.
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Guardian gig tombola!
It’s the festival craze that’s sweeping the nation! Well, it is if by “nation” you mean “a handful of Guardian writers”. Anyway, we’ve been covering the smaller acts at this year’s festival by drawing their names from a hat and going off to see them. Today, Jenny Stevens pulled Coco and the Butterfieds out of the lucky dip. They sound bloody awful to me, but she loved it ...
It’s a rare thing to invent a genre even a music journalist has never heard of, but Coco and the Butterfieds appear to have managed it with their very own brand of Fik Fop (that’s folk, pop and hip-hop to anyone else to whom this is news to). What does such spectacular promise of genre melange offer? A banjo, double bass, brass section and – somewhat incredibly – a beat boxer. They flit between a bluegrass hoedown, sultry hip-hop jams and pop sing-alongs – at times within the same song. “Some people thing Captain Jack Sparrow is in our band!” they cry to mass cheers. It’s very Cotton Eyed Joe – but who can argue with that at this stage in a hangover.
Elsewhere, Hazza “Harriet” Gibsone saw Maid of Ace and was a bit less enthusiastic ...
Back in 2011 an understated, ambitious 20 year old performed on Glastonbury’s BBC Introducing stage armed with nothing but a guitar and a loop pedal. Four years on and he’s selling out three nights at Wembley stadium. So will Maid of Ace follow in Ed Sheeran’s footsteps? When I first picked out their name from the band tombola I suspected there might be some heaviness ahead; the name smacked of slightly of an outmoded pagan-metal act. Which was a moderately accurate prediction. The group of sisters from Hastings make burly racket that’s unlikely to ever date, however: a wall of dirgey guitar sounds, dirty bass, bloodthirsty vocals and a general sense of venom. There’s a lot of men with mowhawks, a mini pit and points where I feel like I might be having a mild heart attack. To conclude, Wembley stadium sing-alongs: unlikely. Moshpits at the Purple Turtle: imminent.
Diligent as she is, she got a security guard to take her emoji stick picture, too ...
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Courtney Barnett and Frank Turner reviewed
While I’m still trying to drink myself out of the night before, our crack team of reviewers are already out in the field plugging away. Here’s Gwilym Mumford’s take on Australian alt-popster Courtney Barnett ...
Courtney Barnett stumbles on, blinking in the lunchtime sun, looking for all the world as if she took a wrong turn on the way to Shangri-La. “Woah, you’re so far away,” she slurs. As Pyramid Stage entrances go, it’s hardly the most auspicious. Kanye, it’s safe to say, won’t be quaking in his diamond-studded boots. Star quality, though, is determined by more than just how many flamethrowers you can cram on stage, and behind the slacker persona the Melbourne singer-songwriter is a remarkably engaging presence, bounding about the stage like an enthusiastic spaniel, making the most of an unusually high-profile slot. She has the songs to match, with sunny alt-folk tracks like Depreston and Avant Gardener managing the unusual feat of being both mordantly funny and catchy as hell. She shuffles back off stage as unceremoniously as she arrived, but by then it doesn’t really matter: we’re all already won over.
Meanwhile, Mark Beaumont has been won over by Frank Turner.
“It’s a long road up to recovery from here!” bawls Frank Turner, revisiting the fiery despond of 2013’s Tape Deck Heart, but he’s well on the way. Finally back at Glastonbury after four years removal from his spiritual home – his (perceived) politics perhaps clashing too sturdily with the festival’s advertised ethos – he’s overjoyed to be here, bounding through quasi-Pentecostal atheist sing-along Glory Hallalujah (“There is no God, so clap your hands together!”) and folk-punk journeyman anthem The Road. Plus, new song The Next Storm is his getting-over-it declaration that chimes with Glastonbury’s weather-beaten optimism: “Don’t wanna spend the whole of my life indoors, laid low, waiting on the next storm ... Rejoice! Rebuild! The storm has passed!”
“I’ve started lying about songs recently,” he admits, claiming that The Way I Tend to Be is about inventing Glastonbury with Michael Eavis, in space. Frivolous yes, but such whoppers – and antics like getting the entire field to sit down and leap up during Photosynthesis – make for endearing counterpoints to the devastatingly lovelorn rock angst of Plain Sailing Weather. Plus, on the righteous form of rock’n’roll calls-to-guitary-arms Four Simple Words, I Still Believe and Try This At Home (“You could do much better than some half-arsed skinny English country singer” he cries in his role as Director of Punk Recruitment), you might even believe he’ll headline one day.
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Glastonbury virgin
As mentioned earlier, I’m a Glastonbury virgin, and I’m taking suggestions for essential things to do. Another one:
@ben_bt Hi Ben, hope you're having a good Glasto, check out Lekkido Lord of The Lobsters #cult #mint set times here> http://t.co/ncrKtueuJ5
— Rob Auton (@RobertAuton) June 25, 2015
We’re big fans of Lekiddo at the Guardian, and gave him a five-star review the other day. I checked out his set at the Circus Field yesterday and it was ridiculously charming: imagine disco, pop-reggae and Ghanaian highlife with freewheeling lyrics and encouragements for the audience to pretend they’re crustaceans. Make sure to check him out today or tomorrow: Summer House Stage in Glebeland 13.15-13.45 (Sunday 13.05-13.35) and each day at the A Little More Sensation stage in Bella’s Field, 18.35-19.05.
I was also was encouraged to check out Arcadia’s giant spider thing, in the comments on our callout for suggestions.
So I did, and it was epic. Imagine titanic brostep wobblecore soundtracking a giant mechanical spider toying with flailing humans, with a pause for some folks firing purple bolts of electricity out of their arms like vogueing dancers who tried to fix some dodgy wiring. There’s no real narrative per se, but if you want to gawp, and have your eyebrows singed by the biggest pyro in Glastonbury, check it out at 11pm tonight and tomorrow. Not found Mr Tumble yet though, soz. Any other suggestions, fire them over to me on Twitter, @ben_bt.
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The inside scoop on the restorative Healing Fields
Our own Jenny Stevens wandered over to the Healing Fields for a day of contact yoga, laughter workshops and something called a sound bath. Read the full piece here for context on the giggles below:
We howl at complete strangers, pick smiles from the grass and throw them into the air, grin and shriek and whoop. By the end of the session, we’re outside – laying on our backs, arms and legs in the air, giggling dizzily towards the sky. “You don’t need drugs or alcohol,” our teacher squeals. “This is the best kind of high you can get!”
Hello it’s Tim Jonze here taking over the liveblog for the next three hours or so. Current state of mind:
Saturday weather report
Sunny, with late-night showers
Ben Beaumont-Thomas has the skinny on today’s projected weather. As ever, it could all change in an instant, but we’re looking at a high of about 19C, sunshine interspersed with cloudy spells, and some rain in the wee hours of the morning.
Watch Ben talk through it, below:
Seth Troxler: beast of barbecue
Kate Hutchinson went to have a delicious meaty meal with Seth Troxler who, as well as multiple sets with his DJ supergroup J.E.S.u.S, is cooking up a storm with his barbecue joint Smokey Tails. Head here for the full Q&A; here’s a wee taster.
I’m the guy who goes to a festival and eats everything until I’m sick. In America, festival food is a bit better. But the main thing I found is that no one in Europe was doing smoked meat like how we do it in the US. My grandfather, a Native American man from Kalamazoo [Michigan], made the family [barbecue] sauce for me when I was eight years old. And then when I was 20, he got cancer, and he took me aside and taught me how to make it. It’s my responsibility to keep him alive through making it. I’m 30 this year, and I’m starting to look at my life in a different way. You can be a rebel and be fun, but now I want a family. I want to do other things, and I don’t want to be a DJ forever. I want other things in life besides parties and late nights. You have to keep yourself interested – the thing that keeps you living is learning new things. I don’t want to be a one-trick pony.
He also has a fine line in Shia LaBeouf impressions.
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Glastonbelly: from veggie delights to cereal bars
Guide previews editor Rachel Aroesti’s been documenting every meal she’s eaten on-site, spanning from “authentically charred” pizza to a day-old cookie. Here’s her latest, starting with some late-night chips:
In the tent this morning, a Coco Pops bar functioned as a quick breakfast. In Rachel’s own words:
The only food I actually brought with me was some of these Coco Pops bars. Had a couple (/five) yesterday and one for breakfast in the tent. Safe to say I already hope never to eat/see another one in my life.
Fair enough.
Luckily, there was a second breakfast on the way:
Watercolour Challenge: Glastonbury edition
Up on the Park stage before Jamie xx, our roving raver Kate Hutchinson met Bath artist Susanna Kendall, who makes amazing watercolour sketches of Glastonbury artists and audiences. “When I’m not at home, everything is new and interesting,” she said. “I really enjoy painting people who are doing their own thing at Glastonbury, and who aren’t posing for me.” Your expertly filtered Instagram looks a bit tame now, I’m afraid.
Would you go on a blind date at Glastonbury?
Nope, us neither. But we sent Holly, 21, and Ryan, 24, off to drink cider at the Pyramid stage. Watch here to find out how they got on …
Celeb Instagrams
The story so far ... according to celeb Instagrammers
From che Vaccines gone psychedelic to Grandmaster Flash hanging out with Boy George, here’s some of the best schleb Instagrams of the Glasto performers so far.
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Tourist: Glastonbury gig tombola
Remember yesterday’s gig tombola? Gwilym Mumford was sent to Pussy Parlure for Tourist:
It’s 10.30pm at Glastonbury, and over on the Pyramid, six trillion people are craning their necks to see Florence foghorn her way through the hits. But rather than joining them, I’m at a sparsely populated Pussy Parlure for the last of Friday’s Glasto tombola picks.
Tourist is a producer who specialises in “sad dance music” and has collaborated with Lianne La Havas, among others. Post Disclosure, this sort of tasteful soul-tinged house is everywhere, and while this has a nice cooling quality to it on a muggy Friday evening, there’s not much that distinguishes it from the pack. In the distance, the booming ragga of Bunji Garlin can be heard (he’s playing at the Gully), a siren call that, for some of the audience here, proves irresistible
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Folk balladeers the Unthanks kick things off
Marc Beaumont joined the bleary-eyed 11am crowd at the Pyramid stage, for folk act the Unthanks:
It’s a thankless task opening the Pyramid on the extremely hungover Saturday morning, so who you gonna call? A band that needs no thanking. Cue the Unthanks, slipping on comfortable shoes for a morning of haunting, misty Celtic folk balladry and gentle clog dancing accompanied by Charles Hazelwood and his orchestra.
Oozing maudlin sophistication, the colliery brass and chamber strings really bring the likes of new album title track Mount the Air and the skittering Flutter to life, almost rivalling the mightiest narwhal noises of Sigur Ros. “I’ll stay out all night and come reeling home drunk in the morning,” spits Rachel Unthank on the accusatory Blue Bleezing Blind Drunk, and Pilton, as one, hangs its hanging head. It’s a set of stirring folk invention; our utmost gratitude.
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The alternative to Florence: yetis, aliens and Super Furry Animals
Mark Beaumont resisted Florence’s charms and went to see Super Furry Animals.
While Florence was “owning Glastonbury” by running around in her bra – by which standard, most of Silver Hayes has been “owning Glastonbury” all weekend – up at the Park, a boisterous, wail-averse crowd were soaking in the psychedelic pop mania of Super Furry Animals.
Rejigging their recent reunion greatest-hits shows to bring the encores upfront and curtail much of the segment celebrating their 2000 Welsh-language record Mwng, they saunter out to the mariachi groove of Slow Life in matching white boiler suits and pile nonchalantly into one of the most magical canons in alt-pop – Hometown Unicorn, (Drawing) Rings Around the World and Do Or Die all stun.
“The last time we played this here, the sun came out,” Gruff Rhys mumbles before Hello Sunshine, gazing expectantly into the night sky, yet you’d almost expect them to be able to subvert astronomy itself, such is their crazed ability to twist a plush country saunter like Mountain People into a crazed techno meltdown inside three minutes. As it all ends with a stage full of yetis and aliens raving to The Man Don’t Give a Fuck, lawyers gather for the inevitable custody battle between SFA and Florence over ownership of Friday night.
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From dusk ’til dawn: scenes from the late-night corner on Friday
Last night, photographer Andy Hall headed to Glasto’s south-east corner, home to the late-night areas, to see what the first batch of weekend revellers were up to.
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Glastonbury stories: in pictures
From Michael Clark’s wild opening act on the Pyramid stage, to a Mexican dancing troupe and a stop for tea and cake with the WI, our photographers captured the way Glastonbury rolled on Friday
Other reviews of Florence are coming in. The Telegraph’s Neil McCormick was in raptures with a five-star review:
Thunderous beats, gothic drama, baroque inventiveness, choral majesty, Native American whoops and hollers and huge soul stirring melodies, Welch has a melodramatic scale beautifully suited to the mystical, tribal gathering aspect of a Glastonbury headline set ... she is astonishing, channelling so much music and spirit she creates a whole world for her audience to enter into and release themselves.
Four stars from the Independent’s Emily Jupp:
She’s the first act of the festival to truly put on a show, with wild, flailing dancing, her trademark elegant hand gestures and loads and loads of running ... even those who don’t seem to know who she is are charmed by her sheer exuberance.
Barry Nicholson at the NME was also a fan, giving it 8/10:
Everything about her set - sounds, colours, movements, emotions - is heightened and amplified, cranked all the way up to 11. It’s total sturm und drang, and through sheer force of will, it works ... Sure, Kanye will probably be the weekend’s big story. But tonight, Florence + The Machine prove that they’re here on merit, and not just necessity.
And DIY’s Jamie Milton had this to say:
From the second she starts, she looks like she was practically born on Glastonbury’s prized hills ... for someone three albums in, this is bordering on heroic.
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News: thefts are up on last year, but overall crime is down
There have been more than 100 reported thefts from tents at Glastonbury this year – slightly up on last year. Police officers on-site are planning to redouble their efforts today to warn people to keep their belongings safe at night, urging them to keep their valuables in their sleeping bag while they sleep.
Overall, crime is slightly down on last year with 54 arrests and 130 reported offences. Detectives continue to investigate an alleged sexual assault on a woman in one of the camping areas in the early hours of Friday.
Here are three tips to keep your belongings safe:
- Lock your valuables inside your sleeping bag with you while you sleep.
- Use the free property lock-ups on site.
- Don’t carry too much cash – use the cash machines on site instead.
Also on my Glasto virgin hitlist was this:
@ben_bt definitely check out Bramble FM...
— Una Tickets (@unatickets) June 24, 2015
So I duly went down to Bramble FM, which is a bonkers radio station in the circus area, pumping out a blend of tunes and Vic’n’Bob-indebted light entertainment. There’s a wheel of fortune made from cheese, the Tony Hart Cinzano Activity Table, and of course the Fred Dibnah Memorial Chimney:
Also, looming in the corner like a disturbing physical omen of the beer fear everyone is now feeling, was this:
There was also this tip for gourmand Glasto virgins:
@guardianmusic @ben_bt eat halloumi cones, loads of em
— Alex Baillie (@Al__Baillie) June 24, 2015
So, verily:
If you want these bad boys yourself, they’re sort of down in the front left hand corner of the Pyramid stage. More Glasto virgin stuff coming later today, in the form of me trapezing (queues permitting) and getting an osteopath appointment in the healing field. Any more tips, post them in the comments or to my Twitter, @ben_bt.
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About last night: a Friday recap
If you didn’t stay in to watch Flo Welch’s last-minute headlining slot on the Pyramid stage last night, fret not: our pop and rock critic Alexis Petridis has done the hard work for you:
The more am-dram aspects of her performance, that might seem baffling in a smaller venue, succeed in reaching to the back of the vast crowd: likewise her voice, a strident and rather testing listen in a more intimate environment.
Read Alexis’ review in full, here.
Kate Hutchinson slipped and slid her way through Rudimental’s set at the Other stage:
Not Giving In, dedicated to DJ Locksmith’s five year old son, is a singalong high as is when they trot out funk hero George Clinton for their “soul” moment, to sing their motto “spread love, go far” and blast peace signs from the screens. A bit over-egged, perhaps, but then Rudimental aren’t usually ones for subtlety.
Tshepo Mokoena took in the dance-pop euphoria delivered by Hot Chip at West Holts stage:
Hot Chip understand how to please a crowd, dropping singalong-ready Over and Over into their set a few songs in, but also balance the process of teasing and rewarding the audience with slow-burning tracks and the odd banger.
Tim Jonze gave his so-so verdict, on Jamie xx’s man-bopping-behind-decks gig at the Park stage:
As an artist whose DJ slot doesn’t exactly scream visually engaging – this is a man, in a white shirt, playing some records – he’s fortunate enough tonight to find himself backed by a beautiful peach sunset that slowly bleeds into violet and mauve as the set itself unfurls.
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So it’s my first Glastonbury, and we asked people for suggestions for essential rites of passage for the Glasto virgin – and I spent a bit of yesterday ticking off the first ones. First up was the Guardian’s very own Carmen Fishwick:
@guardianmusic @ben_bt DESPERATE to see you roll around in mud babez ... mudpack? face mask at the very least
— Carmen Mirelle (@carmenfishwick) June 26, 2015
So I was duly given an exfoliating mud pack.
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A dispatch from last night’s Pilton Palais cinema tent
Our resident film buff Pamela Hutchinson soaked in a spot of 1920s horror, courtesy of Dracula adaptation Nosferatu. Whoever said Glastonbury was all about the bands?
The Pilton Palais cinema tent is perched on the north-eastern corner of the festival site, neighbours with the Kidz field and the Acoustic stage. As such, it all seems relatively sedate unless you approach it after dark, through the increasingly bizarre Circus field, past acrobats, grotesque sculptures and bursts of fire. And that’s entirely appropriate for what you are about to see and hear.
After midnight, throughout the festival, the Palais is screening a classic horror film from the 1920s, with spell-binding musical accompaniment. The band are Minima, comprising electric guitar, bass, drums and cello, and they’re experts at crafting and performing live scores to silent movies.
Saturday and Sunday will see screenings of The Phantom of the Opera (1925), starring the legendary Lon Chaney, and the expressionist trailblazer The Cabinet of Dr Caligari. At last night’s showing of Dracula adaptation Nosferatu, their unmistakeably spine-tingling music clung to each twist of the movie, ramping up the tension during much-imitated but still chilling scenes – Max Shreck’s uncanny tilt from his coffin; his hunchbacked shadow gliding up the wall.
When our hero dines with the bloodthirsty vampire, the band injected a suitably sick kind of humour by striking up a tango to accompany his dance with death. While the band might not have been blaring as loud as the disco favourites escaping from the bar tent next door, this show was all about atmosphere, a collective held breath. And if there has been another audience at Glastonbury as deathly silent as this one, I’ve yet to find it.
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Proof of clement weather
The view from on the hill at the Park:
And the inevitable daily cleanup effort, for festival site and punters alike:
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Good day, sunshine
Hello all, we’re live from Worthy Farm again, and feeling half-way human (where we’ll be come Monday morning – probably less sure). It helps that it’s a beautiful morning, with the BBC reporting highs of 19 degrees with rain due at 2am. Which will probably be when a variant of this blog ends, so we get soaked heading home to canvas.
Before a recap of last night’s action, today offers:
- Kanye West headlining the Pyramid, with rumours of who’ll join him as guests already floating around (be the first in the comments below with a droll observation such as “multiple Kanyes because he’ll have cloned himself”). Here is a terrific read on the man
- People less relaxed than His Holiness: there’s a tasty triple bill of Slave, Sleaford Mods and the Pop Group at the John Peel stage later
- So much more – detail here
And if you’ve landed here by mistake and are wondering what the yeezus we’re on about, here’s a handy explainer:
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METAMORPHOSIS – ARCADIA – 23:00 EVERY NIGHT... try it once.
That and ask anyone if 'Justin Fletcher aka Mr Tumble' is doing a secret show.