I am not a festival goer. I do not feel the need to pitch my tent, sleep in and around the great unwashed, to do my ablutions in God forsaken places, get a spiritual high from the new age clap trap that festivals have to offer or listen to mostly overhyped second rate music. I do not need the festival ‘experience’ to get my rocks off. Fact. However, I do enjoy watching from the perspective of a BBC camera man who with his access most areas pass that enables me to see the band playing from the stage, the excellent sound quality of a surround sound system and the rather marvellous view of the mass of people enjoying their festival experience. I look forward to the Glastonbury weekend and the BBC’s mostly excellent coverage. And so like many a football fan who doesn’t truly support their team I am an armchair festival goer. I enjoy the comfort of pressing the button on my electrically controlled Jimmy Saville reclining chair and putting my feet up, nursing a good burgundy and knowing the satisfaction that there is a clean bathroom downstairs if needed.
I say ‘mostly’, for the reasons mentioned above. However, I definetely do not like the rather facile and self congratulatory frontline presenters such as Edith Bowman and Reggie Yates (I almost couldn’t be bothered to look up his surname), whose psychophantic interviewing techniques are enough to make a grown man cry and vomit at the same time. Something I feel I can legitimately comment on and as such know what a wretched experience it is.
I also acknowledge that I am a middle aged man who would fit quite nicely into the format of the TV show ‘Grumpy old men’, so this has to be taken into consideration. However, please do not tell me that ‘younger’ people get a kick out of Reggie constantly referring to Edith singing or doing ‘funny’ dances or indeed Edith Bowman virtually placing her nose up the back passage of the overhyped Florence of Machine fame. I do however enjoy the ruminatons of Radio 2’s Mark Radcliffe and the rather fantastic Lauren Laverne so ying balances yang and the world continues on it’s inevitable parallel axis(!). The late night slots always remind me of the irrepresible John Peel with his knee length khaki shorts, his oversized wellies and welcomed sardonic asides. Much missed, much loved.
John Peel R.I.P
Apologies for this less than cutting edge on the hour review of this years Glastobury I’ve just basically not had time, but now I do I feel there are rants to be ranted even from the comfort of an armchair and the benefit of the internet. My first question is what in the name of the great god music has happened to the British music scene? Was this the best Michael Eavis could do for the 40th anniversary? Have you seen the line up on all stages and it’s less than inspiring listing? Has the festival turned middle aged? Should children under the age of 10 be banned from the festival? Please in the name of all things sane don’t tell me that Florence and the Machine are the future of British music!
So in the words of Dylan Thomas….’To begin at the beginning’, let us look at this years listing for the festival. Here’s the link to the Glastonbury site http://www.glastonburyfestivals.co.uk/line-up-poster/. Please peruse the Pyramid stage followed by the Other Stage (Awful name by the way Michael) and then followed by the John Peel stage (Good name but does it do him justice? Grave, spinning, in the, comes to mind). Let me start with the example of the Pyramid stage and Friday night. Gorillaz jaw droppingly good I thought, although they did get a bit of a roasting from the press, because it was thought they didn’t have that many sing-a-longs! Is this what quality live music is judged on nowadays. The fact that the audience can’t do karaoke? For me this was the highlight of the festival with the host of guest stars and the wonderfully eclectic mix of musical genres that has surely placed Gorillaz as one of the most inventive and intelligent band of this era. Lots of interesting special guests such as Sean Ryder, Paul Simonon, Mick Jones, Lou Reed etc.but my particular favourite was Mark E. Smith from The Fall, brilliant.
However please look at the tawdrid listing before the headline act and tell me all is well in the British music scene. Dizzee Rascal should be the 4th act in the toilet tent not a second headliner at Glastonbury. Giving us the ridiculous England World Cup song and renditions of ‘Bonkers’ from his last album. To misquote Noel Gallagher, no hip hop at Glastonbury please. Snoop Dogg exacerbated this with a cuss filled set of his at best mediocre career. It comes to something when you’re biggest success on stage is ‘Jump Around,’ by Cypress Hill, not even your song Snoop. Before Snoop we were asked to sit through Willie Nelson and his out of tune ramblings. I’m sorry it may not be cool to say this but he was absolutely awful. Then before him, a earth shatteringly boring set from Corinne Bailey Rae. I like eclectic, but good eclectic not bad eclectic which is the equivalent of listening and I say listening to paint dry. Again perhaps a little unkind on the beautiful Corinne and her present situation (husband dieing of an overdose), but the show was dire.
Rather than waste my time on all the other stages I suggest you have a browse at the festival’s music and tell me where British Indie music is going to and is this the thin end of a very small wedge? Which brings me to my biggest bug bear of the weekend. Florence and The Machine. Why in the name of all things reasonable is this woman a pop star? She can’t sing, she wails out of tune and her music is completely uninspirational. Kate Bush would be spinning in her grave…what?….oh sorry she’s not dead is she? Well I’m sorry my love but ethereal and fantastic are Ms. Bush’ domain. You really are not worthy to tie Kate’s red ballet shoes. Dismissed.
Florence - the picture says it all
And so I finish this review partly because I can’t be bothered writing any more and partly because I am very disappointed in the direction of where music, both live and recorded, are going at the moment. Everything seems…well so predictable. I long to be inspired by music again. I long to remember the day when I first heard Joy Division, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Teardrop Explodes, The Smiths, Happy Mondays and The Stone Roses. This was cutting edge stuff. The real Cool Britannia not the tepid, fame seeking wannabees we seem to be breeding now. I long to hear something radical, something exciting, new and fresh. Tony Wilson died nearly three years ago and let us hope and pray that the British music scene didn’t die with him. Hot Chip….My arse.
Letters from Brittanica 
