Waking up to a sea of casualties from the previous evening’s partying, I’m feeling rather smug that I decided to take it easy last night, as are the 200 or so people who manage to wake in time to see Ebony Bones, whose colourful disco-punk injection comes complete with whistles, neon costumes, whistles, and an attempt to choreograph a mass dance move within the crowd. Unfortunately, there’s barely enough energy to stand, let alone follow the instructions of, ‘To the left, to the right, and forward, and backwards’, and we saunter off to the Pyramid Stage for a far more relaxing show.
Seasick Steve is in good form, interacting with the crowd as he plays his ramshackle blues to a larger crowd than he’s perhaps used to; he enjoys telling the crowd the story of how he bought his beaten-up three-string guitar from a man named Sherman who ‘ripped him off to the tune of seventy five dollars’, and manages to get a chorus of thousands shouting, ‘We know about you Sherman!’
Elsewhere, Holy Fuck deliver their usual brand of lo-fi electro, concocted with a mixture of guitars and twisted toy keyboards. Metronomy get the Dance East Stage moving with an energetic set. Frankly, all this dancing gets a bit tiring so I decide to go and see the other side of the festival. In the Avalon Stage, where burger vans are replaced by lentil stew stalls, and it’s safe for parents to take their children, a real bonafide pop star is on stage. It’s reality TV’s Will Young, who plays a set of affable but unmoving coffee shop soul, pleasing the crowd of mums and teenage girls no end. Just hearing ‘Hello Glastonbury’ come from his mouth is quite surreal.
It’s more tabloid-fodder to follow, and the talk of the weekend is Amy Winehouse’s Pyramid Stage set. Clearly a bit worse for wear, Birds of a Feather: The Musical rumbles on as she whines to the crowd about her poor little Blakey-wakey, and mutters something along the lines of ‘I never thought I’d fall in love with a white man, and then he came along and bashed me over the head with a cricket bat’. That’s assault with a deadly weapon love, he could end up banged up for that…
oh yeah, I forgot. Talking of assault, the set comes to a climax as she reacts to a heckling fan by smacking her in the face and being ushered off stage by security. And I thought Glasto was all about peace a love.
Well it’s not any more, it’s about bitches, ho’s and bling, as the world’s biggest rap super-duper-star Jay-Z bring Saturday night to an incredible climax, proving the doubters wrong with a set that blows the forty-thousand strong crowd away. Beat Happening is lucky enough to get front row seats, and the sound of the crowd is deafening. His perfect riposte to the criticism levelled at him by the likes of Noel Gallagher comes in the form of a cover of Wonderwall. Genius. Glastonbury never bounced as hard as it did during ’99 Problems But a Bitch Ain’t One’. Genius.