NME - - CONTENTS - MIKE WIL­LIAMS Editor-in-chief @itsmike­like

THE FIRST FES­TI­VAL I EVER went to was Glas­ton­bury ’98. It pissed down. Mud ev­ery­where. I had the time of my life.

On the Fri­day night, me and my starry-eyed teenage pals started in the new bands tent watch­ing Gorky’s Zy­gotic Mynci then Ian Brown (both stretch­ing the idea of ‘new’), be­fore march­ing to­wards the main stage for Pri­mal Scream. Twenty min­utes into what seemed a left-field but ex­cel­lent set, we re­alised we’d lost our mar­bles and were watch­ing Por­tishead.

The rest of the week­end was more of the same. Bril­liant but baf­fling on every level, all spent with the best friends I’d ever met and all sound­tracked by the best mu­sic. It ended per­fectly on the Sun­day af­ter­noon as the clouds broke for the first time and Bob Dy­lan sang ‘Blowin’ In The Wind’.

Fes­ti­vals are a rite of pas­sage, an ex­pe­ri­ence like no other and the op­por­tu­nity to ex­pand your mind and dis­cover new mu­sic like nowhere else.

Here’s to fes­ti­val sea­son.

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