Glastonbury 2008 - Review

The royal Eavis' received a proverbial kicking prior to Glastonbury 2008. Tickets being pushed over HMV counters? More mud? Headliners shunning the headline festival? And God forbid... Hip Hop on Gallagher's stage?! Were the omens (or media) signalling the demise of the Festival Of Festivals?

As the disconcertingly-hippie-free mass converged on Worthy Farm, the sunshine poured through on Wednesday and Thursday to reveal unprecedented levels of smugness - a joyful f*** you to all the doubters secretly wishing for rain to justify their migration to overseas, boutique or armchair festivals. And yet I arrived Thursday evening to the familiar cross-site trek through mud in the pissing rain with impractical luggage. Drenched. Had I even been away?

As the rain cleared on Friday afternoon, I witnessed sets from Ida Maria (feisty-but-slightly-scary), Lightspeed Champion (quirky-but-slightly-dull) and Candi Staton (fun-but-slightly-gay). The Subway's impressed with their early afternoon thrashing of the Pyramid stage, emanating a sound far beyond their apparent combined intelligence. Hadouken made a similar impact at the John Peel tent with an incendiary set of Grime/DnB-oriented synths and shouts. In spite of conforming to Hip Hop stereotypes by playing with just a DJ, Lupe Fiasco smashed the Jazz World with an incredibly enigmatic performance ("Go go go go go go...").

Estelle continued the Hip Hop takeover with a wonderfully assured show, that just about made up for me missing Dizzee's gig at The Park. Shite. The Foals satisfied on their much-anticipated Other Stage debut, while hairy rock pin-ups Kings of Leon ensured pseudo-epic guitar solos to close the Pyramid stage. Rest of the night was spent meandering blindly through Booka Shade, mud, the ever-infectious Ozomatli and mud. Apparently.

Saturday morning was greeted by the dulcet tones of Lykke Li and her rather lovely 'Dance Dance Dance'. Not a bad start. Crowded House delivered the retro goods as the sun started to shine through ('Weather With You' anyone?). As sunshine basked the festival, flip-flops replaced wellies with euphoric approval, creating an electric atmosphere that seemingly justified years of mud-wading. As Grime top boy Ghetto brought his skippiest flows to BBC Introducing and Kool Keith & Kutmaster Kurt satisfied the Hip Hop heads, the stage was set for a truly legendary performance from Shlomo & The Vocal Orchestra at The Park.

Mind if I rant? People are all too easily impressed by omnipresent beatboxer's these days (Killa Kela selling Fruit Pastilles?!) and I fear that progressive artistry is suffering as a result. In Shlomo the burgeoning scene has found a figure-head with that knows no boundaries. Not content with showcasing his excellent Vocal Orchestra (including Ronnie Scott's resident Natalie Williams and the incredible Vula) Shlomo rolled out for an impressive 2 hours and was joined onstage by a fascinating roster of guests. This included Martina Topley Bird, Get Cape Wear Cape Fly, Martha Wainwright, Ed Harcourt, DJ Yoda, Foreign Beggars' Orifice Vulgatron, MC Loki, Portico Quartet and Reverend & The Makers. It was the improvised, personal and chaotic elements that impressed most at this staggeringly ambitious show. With the sun beaming and the crowd in raptures, it was probably the most special show I have yet to witness at Worthy Farm.

After regaining my composure with an entrancing acoustic set from Cerys Matthews (returning from her forays into Country music), I joined the masses awaiting Amy Winehouse's unravelling following her latest health scare. To her credit she looked healthy and held it together, even though her performance predictably lacked her true characteristic soul. Nevertheless the appetites of the catastrophe tourists were satiated as she tottered precariously in heels by the front row, before launching a slew of punches into the crowd. Oddly, noone seemed to mind or was surprised - not least the unfortunate victim.

But Saturday belonged to Jay Z plc. The subject of unprecedented controversy, the critics were answered by an enormous crowd that signalled this as one of the most significant Hip Hop gigs ever. Displaying typical humour and astuteness, the set opened with a video featuring famous Brits (The Queen, Tony Blair, erm, Boris) spliced with footage of Noel Gallagher running his mouth. He strolled on stage to a cocophony of noise unlike anything I've witnessed at The Pyramid, complete with guitar and mock-Oasis long coat/scarf whilst singing 'Wonderwall'. He then launched into a rather pointed rendition of '99 Problems'. Pandemonium. As he trail-blazed through his catalogue of hits alongside his expert band - 'Cant Knock The Hustle', 'Song Cry', 'Dirt Off ya Shoulder', 'Is That Your Bitch over Prodigy's 'Smack My Bitch Up' were personal highlights - Jigga displayed a magnetism, confidence and command of the crowd unexplored at this level of live Hip Hop. The 100,000 strong Roc diamond signs were testament to this. The only disappointment was the creative decision to not wheel out any of the rumoured mega-guests (Mrs Z, Chris Martin, Gwyneth, Amy, Estelle...). That aside it was a privilege to witness this resounding success and history in the making - Mr Eavis must have slept well Saturday night.

Sunday saw impressive sets from Martina Topley Bird, Jack Penate, Kathryn Williams, whilst Neil Diamond prompted vintage singalongs - despite sounding remarkably like your Dad singing Best of Neil Diamond. Unlike your Dad, he got away with it... just. Stumbled across under-rated lyrical genius Davey J performing alongside the fast-rising Jamie Woon at Chai Wallah's. DJ sets from Annie Mac were predictably happy-joy-jump, Caspa & Rusko predictably filthy and Black Ghosts surprisingly heavy. Caught the tail end of Sam Sparro's set which went off like a fire-cracker, soon followed by the noisy, so-hot-right-now Crystal Castles. Their set was so electrifyingly abrasive that it got shut down after 20mins because Alice Glass was getting too rowdy. Brilliant, short, but ultimately disappointing - what happened to rock'n'roll, man?

I managed to explore comedy and theatre tents to enjoy pleasant surprises from Steve Gibbin's vicious tongue and Jonathan Kaye's off-the-wall interactive shows - the latter managing to coerce crowds into stripping, walking like fish, dish out standing ovations and screaming "f*** you" in the kids field. It all came to a close with a Groove Armada-Verve double header, culminating in a classic Glasto Sunday flourish of 'Drugs Dont Work', 'Lucky Man' and 'Bittersweet Symphony'.

Sun. Sounds. Spangled.