Despite the awful weather, Glastonbury was a triumph of togetherness
Despite the wind and rain, Glastonbury’s hordes found beauty in the mud, says Neil McCormick
At the end of every Glastonbury festival, Worthy Farm tends to resemble an apocalyptic, rubbish-strewn battlefield, as if someone threw a party in the middle of the Somme. This year, at least, campaigning rock band Coldplay tried to do their bit to Keep Britain Tidy. Revellers were asked to exchange bags of rubbish for yesterday night’s headliner’s much-coveted flashing radio-controlled wrist bands. I’m not sure, however, who has been tasked with collecting all the wrist bands inevitably littering the muddy fields after Coldplay’s spectacular hi-tech festival closing extravaganza.
But it was worth it. All the mess, all the hardship, a long weekend of will sapping mud and incessant drizzle concluded with one of those warm and fuzzy singalong sets that reminds you why live music is such a thriving art form, still so essential to the cultural life of young and old throughout this currently rather anxious and divided land. “We came here a little scared for the state of the world,” admitted Coldplay front man Chris Martin. “But to see Glastonbury makes you believe together we can do anything.”
Coldplay outdid every headliner for fireworks and flares, lights and confetti, lasers and balloons, turning the muddy quagmire into a rainbow rave. “This could be paradise,” they sang and made everyone believe they meant this very field in Somerset. “You’ve been through rain, mud, carnage basically, the collapse of the country,” said Martin, admiring Glastonbury’s enduring spirit. Adele had wowed Glastonbury on Saturday night with big songs, big character and big emotion; Coldplay did the same but added those simple LED wristbands that effectively turned the audience into their own light show.
Coldplay have probably done more than any other band to carry the spirit, energy and values of rock into a new digital electronic pop era. Their sound palette seamlessly meshes electric guitars with glittering synths so they seem to have as much in common with Beyonce as Oasis. And they maintain a vital spirit of spontaneity. They brought on Bee Gee Barry Gibb for a stirring acoustic rendition of You Don’t
Know What It’s Like and a sensational Staying Alive, introduced as “the greatest song of all time”. Their set was a wonderful end to a very long and strange weekend.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Gregory Porter announced earlier from the Pyramid stage, in defiance of all evidence to the contrary. Was that an ironic cheer from the gathered mass?
Porter’s warm, mellifluous soulful crooning ideally needed the sun to come out for full effect. At least for once, the American singer’s balaclava and cloth cap combination looked like appropriate headgear rather than some eccentric affectation. The portly middle-aged jazzer may be the oddest pop star on the planet, but he proved a refreshing testament to the notion that the most important organ for musical appreciation should always be our ears. His creamy voice was like a musical hangover cure, a soothing balm for the pleasantly wasted.
He was a reminder, too, of just how diverse the music at this festival actually is, from his liquid jazz to Wolf Alice’s flighty grunge, from Art Garfunkel’s tender acoustic set to Skepta’s ear-punching electronic grime. The headline acts dominate media coverage but Glastonbury is vast and varied. If you preferred not to be blitzed by Muse’s ultimate sci-fi rock show on the Pyramid, you could wander the outer fringes, where animatronic dancing mechanoids performed robo-go-go to twisted techno in the Unfairground. The Bowie-esque cabaret pop of Christine & The Queens won the young French singer many new admirers on the Other Stage, while Last Shadow Puppets paid homage to the late great Starman himself with a skyscraping version of Moonage Daydream on a Pyramid stage decorated by an Aladdin Sane lightning bolt.
Yet it is those moments when everyone assembles to celebrate together that define Glastonbury as the ultimate festival, like Jeff Lynne’s ELO summoning Mr Blue Sky beneath leaden clouds and drizzling rain.
The sight of tens of thousands of people spread up a hillside on a starlit night, gloriously singing along to an awe-struck Adele is not something anyone present is going to forget in a hurry.