A magical display of why Glastonbury still moves us
Radiohead, Royal Blood and The xx impress – and so does the weather – at a superbly assured festival
‘For a minute there, I lost myself,” Thom Yorke sang over the closing notes of Karma Police, and the crowd spread up the dark hillside at Worthy Farm picked up the refrain. “I lost myself, I lost myself…” It was a spine-tingling moment, beneath a black expanse of Somerset sky, flares burning and flags waving, tens of thousands spookily bathed in the weird glow of Radiohead’s geometric psychedelic lighting display, singing together like a ghostly choir. Britain’s strangest, most audacious rock band had put in a fierce, beautiful set, as frustrating, challenging and ultimately mesmerising as anyone might have expected. They have never been renowned as greatest hits crowd pleasers, but in the end, it is magical moments like this that people come to Glastonbury for, to lose themselves in the music, and find themselves amongst like-minded souls.
The opening Friday night at Glastonbury was a good advertisement for the state of British rock. Brighton outfit Royal Blood put in an absolutely thunderous display that more than lived up to their name: it was majestic and it was full-blooded. Using only drums and bass, the power duo make a noise that puts bigger bands to shame.
While in the middle of their set, Royal Blood received news that their latest album had gone to number one in the charts. They took a brief break to quaff from a bottle of champagne “for the sake of rock’n’ roll”. Then they spat it out and got back to business. They are future top of the bill headliners for sure.
Yet they were matched, in a very different way, by the dubby grooves of The xx, another band with an unusual minimalist line up. The trio’s DJ, guitar and bass musical microbrew brought a chilled-out bliss to twilight at the Pyramid stage. In a way, these two young bands operate from opposite extremes of contemporary effectsladen sound palettes. The mastery of Radiohead was to fold both of those extremes into one mind-scrambling whole. Taken together, you’d have to happily conclude that the UK is still a world beater when it comes to crafting original commercial music from the furthest frontiers of pop.
Saturday night’s main stage headliners Foo Fighters were guaranteed to deliver a crowd-pleasing blast of good old American rock’n’roll swagger but, compared with this trio of British bands, they already sound like a blast from the past.
But it wasn’t all about the music. When Thom Yorke muttered “See you later, Theresa, shut the door on the way out” it drew such a cheer you might have thought he’d just announced Radiohead were going to play the whole of OK Computer.
Last year, Glastonbury woke to news of the Brexit vote, and a strange mood of incredulity and mourning settled over the festival. This year, the political atmosphere was far more jolly, if slightly insurrectionary.
The sing-along chant of this year’s festival has been “OH – JE-REM-YCOR-BYN!” to the tune of the White Stripes’ Seven Nation Army. The Labour leader was on site yesterday, giving speeches as rapturously received as headline sets from rock stars. His former colleague Ed Balls was also roaming around, happily posing for selfies and even executing his geeky Gangnam Style Strictly Come Dancing routine upon request.
Meanwhile, movie star Johnny Depp received censure from the White House for jokingly asking ”’When was the last time an actor assassinated a president?” In his defence, he also claimed he wasn’t much of an actor (“I’m a professional liar”), and certainly seemed happiest popping up with his acoustic guitar to back legendary country veteran Kris Kristofferson.
Bradley Cooper, who introduced Kristofferson to the stage, was filming scenes from his forthcoming musical A Star Is Born, with the crowd filling in as unpaid extras. Several members of the Game of Thrones cast (Kit Harington, Rose Leslie and Alfie Allen, spotted deep in conversation with sister Lily) were reunited in the backstage bar, where David Beckham was being gently ribbed by Manchester City supporter Noel Gallagher.
But the real star of Glastonbury 2017 was undoubtedly the weather. The rain stayed away until Saturday morning’s light drizzle. Crucially, the ground remained firm underfoot. Revellers were able to wear their maddest, funniest, flashiest (and fleshiest) costumes with impunity, and when you hear a man dressed only in the tiny briefs of a Baywatch lifeguard complaining about the stiffness of the breeze, you know everything’s all right in Glastonbury’s mad little world.
‘Tens of thousands spookily bathed in the weird glow of Radiohead’s geometric psychedelic lighting, singing together like a ghostly choir’