Swimming Pools (Drank), Kendrick Lamar (Reading and Leeds)
The perfect hip-hop anthem for sipping Ciroc poolside in California. Shame that the closest you can get at Reading is downing a stale Tuborg near a puddle of piss created by someone called Wanker Dave.
All Night Long, Lionel Richie (Glastonbury)
Sorry, it doesn’t matter how many post-dubstep DJs you see doing secret sets in the Eavis’s private jacuzzi – this is going to be everyone’s highlight of Glastonbury, transforming Sunday afternoon comedowns into sequin-encrusted vibe-rainbows.
Time For Heroes, The Libertines (Reading and Leeds)
By the time the Libertines headline Reading, we’ll be 100 days into a Tory-majority government, by which point I imagine everyone will be quite into a song about finding love in an anti-capitalism riot.
Family Affair, Mary J Blige (Glastonbury)
There’s a magical thing that happens when you finally get to see the artist performing a song you’ve heard at every house party since 2001 live and in the flesh. That thing involves you running halfway across a muddy field to jump on the shoulders of your mate, who was just off for a slash, screaming: “Steve, it’s our song!”
Go Your Own Way, Fleetwood Mac (Isle Of Wight)
Oh God, no one is ready for this. The caterwauling hen parties, the exaggerated “walk out the door” arm gestures, guys nine Bulmers deep trying to harmonise. Everything awful and amazing about Britain will be wrapped up in these four minutes.
Sheila, Jamie T (Glastonbury)
Glastonbury is a place full of weird, forgotten subcultures that you didn’t realise still existed. Never will that be truer than when thousands of Neets wearing flatcaps, toothy grins and Harrington jackets with nothing underneath swarm from the smoke-filled gazebos to cockney-along to this sarf-of-the-river classic.
At The River, Groove Armada (Isle Of Wight)
Mmm, just imagine a melt-in-the-middle chocolate cake oozing outwards as Groove Armada play their M&S anthem. If there’s one moment to catch dads in sarongs playing air trumpet and mums on Skyscanner booking a Ryanair flight to Marbs, this is it.
Uptown Funk, Mark Ronson (V Festival)
Not heard this one before – heard some good things, though. Hope it will get some airplay before the summer.
Summer, Calvin Harris (V Festival)
This song truly was built for this moment, in the same way as a crane is built to move heavy things and a toilet brush is built to clean skid marks. It will certainly do the job.
Bad Blood, Taylor Swift (British Summer Time)
These man-who-wronged-me anthems are all well and good until your other half wanders off to buy drinks, only to reappear half an hour later with two shots of Aftershock Blue and a light-up baby’s dummy. If you’re planning to be a crappy boyfriend this summer, best to wait till Taylor’s left the site.
A song by the Foo Fighters, Foo Fighters (Glastonbury)
Yeah, you know, their big hit? Yeah, you do – it goes: quiet bit, then a loud bit, then a quiet bit, then a very loud bit. Repeat ad nauseum until it’s time to go to Shangri-La.
The Next Episode, Snoop Dogg (Lovebox)
Snoop recently revealed that he believed Game Of Thrones was based on real life, so perhaps this 1999 Dre-produced classic is really about Snoop with a notebook and reading glasses, taking furious notes as he binge-watches season two. Watch out for dragons.
I Know There’s Gonna Be (Good Times), Jamie xx ft Popcaan and Young Thug (Bestival)
OK, so this one may just have come out but trust us, by the time Bestival rolls around in September you’ll have played it so many times your ears will be raw. This is the unmitigated sound of summer 2015, so full of joyous vibes that it’s impossible to imagine that any song will top it ever again.
Duran Duran, Girls On Film (Bestival)
Last year, BBC cameras caught a young woman on someone’s shoulders at Glastonbury doing poppers right in the middle of Disclosure’s set. The best camera operators can hope for during this mum-friendly set is some slow-mo flapping bingo wings.
Skrillex, Take Ü There (Bestival)
Technically part of his Jack Ü project with Diplo, but sure to get an outing, this is Skrilli at his least formulaic and most Timmy Mallett-bonkers. Quite hard to dance to, but great for EDM-style fist pumps.
