Glastonfriday, Worthy Farm

Slow Club

26 June, 2009

Morning papers are arriving on site to confirm what a few hadn’t believed in the evening, far too many texts, Tweets and calls about MJ meant it was into the Orange Chill ‘n’ Charge tent for a bit while friends go to Dan Black (Their review: Alright). As I cut past the Pyramid Stage, Gabriella Cilmi is on; most of her songs aren’t up to much but she has a voice and style to do more in the long run.

Late lunch is tea, cake and newspaper in The Guardian Lounge waiting for Slow Club. As seems to be customary at their shows, the floor is there to be sat on on ’til Rebecca bosses the crowd on to their feet. In a heroic effort, one guy leads the whole tent in putting on their dancing shoes for ‘Giving Up On Love’, and well done that man.

The Park always seems to be the one stage that suits our tastes the most so we tend to camp close to it to keep some of the walks to a minimum. On the way, we’re pretty darn pleased with what a large crowd The Maccabees haved pulled on The Other Stage (much bigger than the one The View end up with later on). And we’re now at The Park for Secret Guest #1 who we already know are going to be Hot Rats, a.k.a. Danny and Gaz from Supergrass with help from Nigel Godrich. They have an album of covers on the way and as the sun breaks through for the first time since I arrive, they deliver a fun set. Despite the odd technical hitch or seven you can’t complain about being regaled by hearing covers of The Sex Pistols, The Kinks, Roxy Music, Beastie Boys, David Bowie, Elvis Costello and best of all, Gang of Four. Certainly hoping the album doesn’t disappoint. After the aborted trip to Pyramid stage, we come back up the hill for Secret Guest #2. Not Libertines, Radiohead, Muse, Coldplay, Arctic Monkeys or The Rolling Stones, but in fact, Jack White’s The Dead Weather. They bore me stupid. The Kills have never been good, The Raconteurs’ second album was a complete snoozefest and only when White comes off the drums do excitement levels reach yellow. They cover Dylan’s ‘New Pony’ and as nice as they look, their own songs are doing nothing for me.

We’ll admit to having a quick peek at Lady GaGa in order to: (a) see what she’s wearing, and (b) see if she is an elaborate Kaufman-esque satire on popular music. Not sure there’s another explanation for her really, but we’re fully behind her. We waddle the long way round to the Pyramid (because it’s better on that side) for The Specials. We could moan about the lack of Dammers here or complain about other things but simple fact is the band are playing some of the best songs of the weekend. From the majority of their first album to the Thatcher recession anthems of ‘Do Something’ and of course ‘Ghost Town’, they sound more relevant and vital than most acts here.

We only get to British Sea Power in time for ‘Waving Flags’, after cracking open the cans we liberated from our tent on the way. It’s the best performance I’ve seen from them since Oxford early last year; there’s no problems with volume and the fans have foliage at the ready. A shame that sets like this don’t get on the BBC’s red button but that is part of their charm. It’s definitely a highlight of the weekend so far.

Rounding off the music for the day are Animal Collective back up with the very young crowd at The Park. We spend the wait feeling smug for having seen Neil Young in Aberdeen on Wednesday and not having to worry about missing ‘A Day In The Life’, the fake endings of ‘Rockin’ In The Free World’ et al by seeking out the second best thing to come out of Baltimore, Maryland. (Ironically The Wire’s Dominic West was watching Neil Young at the time!) After a slow start with a lacklustre ‘My Girls’ disappointing many, the set starts to pick up with ‘Summertime Clothes’ and some catchy new songs in the middle. Maybe it’s the cider from the day or the joy at the lack of heavy rain we’d been waiting for, but despite wearing wellies and a rain poncho we dance the entire duration of closers ‘Fireworks’ and ‘Brother Sport’. I look a prize tit, but if you can’t look like that at Glastonbury, where can you?