All weekend we have been asking festival goers to tell us where at Glastonbury they would also take Paul McCartney with them if they had the chance (he is quite elusive, it turns out!). Here are Macca super-fans Lorraine, Ruth and Jo:
Ruth: That should be something that suits a sir!
Lorraine: I wanted to take him for a good cream tea so I could talk to him about the early days – I would love that! I would even take him for two cream teas, it would make my day.
John Peel, 2.30pm
The rise of Black Midi has been nothing short of amazing: here’s a band that has come out of playing small, grotty Brixton venues whose unholy noise flaunts its freak flag high, whose freeform songs follow their own bananas without rules, always with a tendency to ping into a prog-metal collapse, and who, with the exception of their masked brass winds, dress like accountants during their lunch break.
And yet, the quintet is Mercury-nominated, three albums in (new, Hellfire, is out next month) and playing for their biggest audience to date at West Holts this afternoon. The weirdos have won. They have grown since 2017 from trio to five-man skunk-off, a sound rooted in free jazz, but which turns the genre faster than you say “fairs”(The blurry sing-speak so loved by bands like Dry Cleaning and Midis Gen-Z Mark R Smith vocalist, Geordie Greep).
Even if you do not understand Black Midi’s sonic maelstrom, funk-metal one minute, honky-tonk country-rock the next; even though it’s like looking at the alphabet of the fridge upside down and backwards, their music is so alarmingly impressive that it exceeds unequal inaccessibility – you just have to buckle up and go where it takes you. And it will always take you somewhere, even if it’s to get a beer.
Their music may at first sound as if it may fall apart, but it is closely orchestrated, and even when deliberately bolshy, it is not out of sync. Still, you get the impression that mind is being fried over the field: A track with a confused brass freak out is so blistered that it evokes a “farking hell” from the fathers nearby. You have to give it to them: they have completely created their own trajectory.
The closest they come to what one might call songs seems to be their newer material. There’s one where bassist Cameron Picton takes the stage, with acoustic guitar in hand, to sing a rolling country number that sounds a bit like Maccabees from their rockers. Or at the end, when the endlessly charismatic Greep (guitarist), despite never taking the shadow off, goes for a proper 70s Elvis-y belts on another new track, The Defense. They can do it, you see – they’re just better than that. “It’s the kind of music I expect to hear when I walk through the gates of hell,” one spectator whispers to another. And that’s exactly how the Black Midi wants it.
Second scene, at
When Skunk Anansie’s legendary frontwoman Skin goes out on the second stage in a stunning luminous neon suit with CLIT ROCK on her back, wearing a black club kid inflatable headdress with lace and elaborate Disney villain emerald green eye makeup, Skunk Anansie’s legendary frontwoman Skin revives a trio Saturday after a trin . her presence. After opening with Stoosh’s furious opener Yes It’s Fucking Political, she’s already by the second song climbed over the barrier and into the crowd. This is a much more welcome look back from the 90s than the deplorable fluffy bucket hats that are now everywhere again.
We see experienced artists here, who were famous for the lead role in the pyramid in 1999, but they do not look very tired. “We like to write brand new songs, otherwise we’d just be a ’90s band trawling around the planet,” Skin jokes before starting on their fresh track Can’t Take You Anywhere. “In this new world order, we have people we love who have opposing views of us, but at the same time you have to get over it, keep your views and love them anyway,” Skin believes, before clarifying: “If they” re anti-abortion on the other hand, they can fuck off. “
These are songs with huge riffs and huge emotions, and Skin can still seemingly effortlessly carry them all along with his soaring, powerful voice. The band does not waver a single time, and although it is Weak who predictably makes the audience sing enthusiastically while Skin holds his microphone up, this set does not lean too much on previous hits. This is a band that has taken its rightful place in British rock history, but they still have something to say and an incomparable voice to say it with. And once again: the OUTFIT. Candidate for the party’s best lewk, for sure.
Shangri-La, Glastonbury’s infamous late-night area, is a very strange place to be during the day. One in blue wig came right up to me and asked if I had considered becoming a hologram.
The park scene, at
A sunny early Saturday afternoon turns out to be the perfect slot for Gabriels. Their groundbreaking debut single, Love and Hate in a Different Time from 2021, may lead you to the assumption that their sound is firmly rooted in the soul of the 60s, an impression strengthened by the synchronized movements of their three backing singers and lead singer Jacobs nice attire Sneaky that removes a sky blue robe to reveal evening dress, complete with butterfly. But the reality is more far-reaching than that: They evoke disco, gospel – Lusk is the choir leader – and jazz-bent pre-rock’n’roll pop in different ways.
Their songs sound beautiful, but they are often slow-paced and opaque: Instead of grabbing you by the neck, they demand the attention of an audience that audiences gathered on the Park stage seem happy to give them. Lusk has a sincerely shaky voice – a former American Idol contestant, his falsetto can sound alternately tender and eerie – and he is a natural performer who addresses audiences like Glastonbury Missionary Baptist Church and encourages them to address it , which stands next to it. them and tell them that they love them for a long time. When he performs an unexpected and beautifully delicate cover of Barbra Streisand’s The Way We Were to a wave of applause that takes a while to die down, it’s clear they’re completely won over.