‘I WAS THE FIRST DJ TO PLAY GLASTONBURY’ BY MICK RINGHAM
They say hindsight is a wonderful thing. It’s true, because if I’d known, I would have tried to remember more about September 19 1970 – perhaps taken some photos, made a few notes. It’s not every day you become the first DJ to play Glastonbury. Fifty years on, I’m still kicking myself.
At the time, I was a professional DJ who went by the rather dubious name “Mad Mick”, and Michael Eavis, whom I knew from the blues scene in Bath, was booking performers for an outdoor gig on his sleepy dairy farm in Pilton, Somerset.
My wife Rose and I set off that morning with a boot full of vinyl, some wine and sandwiches, determined to enjoy it. There were no traffic jams in the lanes around Worthy Farm – just a few trucks in a field, a makeshift stage covered with tarpaulin and a crowd of locals and bohemian types. Eavis charged the 1,500-odd revellers £1 for entry, offered fresh milk, ox roast, and “sheltered fields for camping”.
The Kinks were top of the bill, but pulled out at the last minute (I bet they’re kicking themselves, too), to be replaced by a semi-acoustic Marc Bolan and his band, Tyrannosaurus Rex. The next month, he’d shorten that name, release Ride a
White Swan, and effectively invent glam rock.
I still remember the very first record I played: the original version of
It’s All Over
Now by the Valentinos, with Bobby Womack on lead vocals. It went down such a storm that Bolan bowled over and asked if he could have it. I said no.
The other DJ never turned up so I played records between bands the whole day, and headed home at midnight, just wondering if I’d get paid. I did, in the end – about £20 – but if you’d told me Michael’s festival would become the pinnacle of the British music scene for the next half-century, I’d have laughed. I Djed for a few years, then chucked it all in to open a toy shop.
I’m 73 now and as people ask me, with wide-eyed wonder, just what it was
like to be there, I’ve come to realise I was part of history.
That moment, 50 years ago, was the crossroads between flower power and the future. Jimi Hendrix had just died, The Beatles had split, but there was an anticipation about the vivid new decade. I think that’s what draws people back to Glastonbury – for a few days in June they can go to this citadel of fun and love to dream of a better world, dance and be free. If that’s not the spirit of 1970, I don’t know what is.
In 2010, Michael invited me back to DJ at the 40th anniversary festival. I played in the Park area, marvelled at how vast the place was, and played the same set as in 1970. It went down a storm again. Good job I’ve still got it.
It’s a shame the 50th anniversary celebration has been cancelled, but another year to build excitement can’t hurt. And after all we’ve been through, you wouldn’t bet against next year’s party being the best ever.