Glastonbury Festival
Worthy Farm, Pilton
25, 26, 27/06/2010

The best Glasto ever? That’s the way this year’s Worthy Farm bash is shaping up to be remembered – and not just because of the scorching heatwave that seared through south west England throughout the weekend. So, tent pitched and Factor 500 slapped on, we dive head first into a Glastonbury that’ll be etched in the memory forever…

First stop on the Friday is Snoop Dogg at on the Pyramid Stage. Pulling a mammoth crowd that sways and sweats across Pyramid’s dusty, hazy horizon, Snoop unleashes hit after hip-swivelling hit. Just as he’s gliding into a crowd-seducing, charm-overloaded ‘Beautiful’, The Fly decides we haven’t felt the weary pang of a trek across site yet, so we head up to The Park Stage partly because Local Natives are on next and they’re ace and also because rumours are swirling that Thom Yorke is going to turn up for a secret show later. Before those are confirmed though, the ‘Natives prove a spot-on soundtrack for a sun-drenching as they harmonise and thump their way through the majority of ‘Gorilla Manor’, their urgent, manically melodic percussive grooves a perfect juxtaposition to a crowd watching and listening whilst lying down, ‘Airplanes’ and ‘Wide Eyes’ summing up their melancholically sunny vibes best. Next up, The Big Pink’s soporific drone fails to re-ignite the spark of a crowd fast falling asleep, although the explosive climax of ‘Dominos’ lifts a set that otherwise feels one-paced and valium-ised.

By the time they finish, crowds are flocking to see who the Special Guests’ll be. The absence of a drumkit isn’t stopping speculation that it’s The Strokes, although it’s a soundcheck of some suspiciously ‘Idioteque’-esque beats has the Radiohead aficionados frothing. Then there’s the Radiohead geeks who recognise their ubiquitous guitar tech onstage. He’s called Plank. And, oh look, there’s a bronzed Ed O’Brien strolling past us. Surrounded by hoards of expectant and hopeful listeners, a bandana-wearing Thom Yorke enters the stage to the chiming opening bars of ‘The Eraser’. After hushing the audience to silence with stirring and stripped-backed versions of ‘Black Swan’ ,‘Cymbal Rush’ and ‘Harrowdown Hill’, Thom’s joined by guitarist Jonny Greenwood for ‘Weird Fishes (Arpeggi)’, ‘Street Spirit (Fade Out)’, ‘Idioteque’, ‘Pyramid Song’ and ‘Karma Police’, the latter evolving into a near perfect Glastonbury moment, the sun setting and the entire, enamored audience singing back the closing chant.

After that spellbinding buzz, it’s back to the Pyramid Stage for Gorillaz 46-man mammoth stageshow. Things start brilliantly with the orchestra swell of ‘Intro’ and Hypnotic Brass Ensemble delivering blasts of brass into a surprisingly Snoop-less ‘Welcome To The World Of The Plastic Beach’. A menacing ‘Kids With Guns’ and ‘O Green World’’s ragged hollering sees Damon Albarn take vocals for the first time, but for the most part he’s a world away from the limelight-hogging frontman who vanquished Glasto with Blur last year. And that, perhaps, is part of the problem with Gorillaz’s set. It’s too much of a sensory-overloading spectacle to ever feel flat, but Damon’s mere presence raises the comparison to the singalong euphoria of Blur’s set. It feels, halfway through, that Gorillaz, for all their aceness, lack the requisite amount of crowd-uniting anthems to headline Glasto. There’s still enough hi-octane highlights to make them hugely enjoyable, though; a remarkably healthy-looking Shaun Ryder dedicating ‘Dare’ to Frank Sidebottom as he leads it into a space-pop romp, De La Soul stampeding forth on ‘Feel Good Inc’’s bass-groove horns and Snoop eventually surfacing to take up rap duties on the party bounce of closer ‘Clint Eastwood’.

Saturday begins on the Other Stage with the auspicious growl of Gary Stringer as local heroes Reef embark on a comeback. 90s hits are rolled out and greeted wildly, surprisingly none of them have ballooned in weight (must be those surfing chops, eh?) although the bassist does look about 50 now. Then, it’s up to The Park stage for a disappointingly ramshackle set from Frankie & The Heartstrings. Must’ve had a late night, eh? Wild Beasts look like they got to bed early in preparation, though; as they stroll onto the stage over a dramatic intro tape in a packed John Peel tent, they’re a picture of effortless cool – it’s positively Fonz-esque that Hayden Thorpe keeps a blazer on for the whole set. Theirs is one of the best of the weekend – the mischievous howls (and hoots) of, yup, ‘Hooting & Howling’, ‘All The King’s Men’ and ‘We Still Got The Taste Dancin’ On Our Tongues’ evolved into arena-sized anthems. Brilliant.

Delphic, equally, show with their late-afternoon set that it won’t be long before the likes of ‘Halycon’, ‘Doubt’ and ‘This Momentary’ are housed in mammoth venues, either, their songs flowing into each other with a danced-up, subtle Manc swagger. Over on The Park Stage, Beach House’s magnetic and haunting songs wash over the sea of rosy-cheeked faces, an oddly melancholic choice for such a bright day some might think, but even the most blistering sunshine couldn’t take the sombreness away from ‘Gila’, whilst ‘Walk In The Park’ and ‘Norway’ sound outstandingly ethereal and leave the audience’s brain’s wavering woozy. The National’s triumphant blare on the Other Stage is unmissable, with ‘England’ and ‘Fake Empire’ cementing their reputation as one of the most emotionally-conquering live bands around at the moment.

To the Park Stage, Laura Marling, back to her blonde-haired daintiness, takes to the stage surrounded by twinkling fairy lights and a whispering crowd. Her new material fit for the big stage, Marling glides her way through the set, dropping in old favourites ‘Night Terror’ and ‘Alas I Cannot Swim’ as well as the best picks from her astoundingly accomplished second effort.

Foals’ set on John Peel might be described as make or break – a show as incendiary as Florence’s at the same time last year might spark the march to stardom ‘Total Life Forever’ deserves, the flipside being anything less might inhibit an album campaign that’s so far failed to ignite. From the first bars of the new record’s title track, though, it’s clear they’ll do anything but the former – their set’s an adrenaline-veined juggernaut that only stops to catch breath when they play ‘Spanish Sahara’ about halfway through. And, Jesus, even that ends with brain-thwacking sonic explosives. ‘Red Socks Pugie’ incites a mass sing/dance/jumpalong and by the time ‘Two Step Twice’ is threatening to blow the tent’s giant roof off, Foals feel like a band who’ve jumped a giant hurdle on the way to a mainstream breakthrough.

There’s no such questions posed when faced with watching Muse on the Pyramid Stage. Theirs is a machine well-oiled and slickly sophisticated, but that never detracts from their shows being anything but a constant, convulsive thrill. Tonight even feels stripped-down, a wall of octagon screens behind them low-key compared to their usual production blemishes (where, indeed, is the giant UFO that brought down MTV when they played Germany’s Rock Am Ring a few weeks ago?) but just 20 seconds into the intergalactic stomp of ‘Uprising’, they make everyone who’s preceded them look inferior. The set is as expected, their now vast array of Super Worldwide Hits despatched with customary bombast, with an appearance from The Edge for a straight-ahead take on ‘Where The Streets Have No Name’ offering him, and us, a glimpse of what might’ve been had Bono not done his back in.

It’s Sunday. Everyone is feeling rough, everyone is looking rough, but, hey, England are gonna beat Germany and the best Glasto ever is gonna be even better! But first, Everything Everything are gonna do their best to wake everyone up with a fantastic set of jittery art-rock on the John Peel stage, the songs from the “best British guitar debut of the year” (™ Me, On Twitter) showing an inventiveness and angular poppiness that’ll stand the Manchester quartet in good stead. ‘Schoolin’’ and ‘Suffragette Suffragette’, in particular, are slices of Talking Heads-esque aceness.

At Dance East, Primary 1 is another doing his best to wake people from a slumber, the hotly-tipped synth-popper unleash ‘Princess’ and ‘Blues’ with eccentrically composed soul and charm. Even when an old crusty at the front decided to expose his nether regions, the band’s glistening renditions were unfaltered. Good work.

Then, it’s off to the Football Field with 100,000 others to watch England beat Germany and yeah this is gonna be so great and the spirit of 1966 is flowing through the fie…….

Meanwhile, umm, a much anticipated set by Villagers was up next at the Park Stage, where ‘Becoming A Jackal’, ‘Saw The Dead’ and ‘Pieces’ sound as gloriously tender and moving as on record. However, the true beauty of Villagers’ set is when frontman Conor O’Brien is left on his own without a band – with just a guitar, he proves he’s an incredibly precious songwriter.

Avi Buffalo’s set next on the Park Stage totally confirm the fact that their Pavement meets Broken Social Scene indie slacker-folk is one of the most enrapturing sounds we’ve heard for a long time. Alongside their kooky nervousness and humble gratitude to the audience, songs like ‘What’s In It For?’ and ‘Truth Sets In’ shine out confidently as some of the finest indie tracks of 2010.

As the afternoon sun is FINALLY accompanied by a breeze, New Yorkers Grizzly Bear take to the Other Stage to perform a set so utterly spotless The Fly is left pretty breathless, ‘Lullaby’’s cathartic explosions, ‘Two Weeks’’ invigorating romance and ‘Easier’’s nostalgic breeziness booming out, and the ever gentlemanly chaps even taking a moment to play a radio down the mic to tell the audience about the football result that we shan’t speak of. One of the most inspiring and blissful sets of the weekend.

Next on the Other Stage, We Are Scientists, meanwhile, rope in Andy Burrows on drums for a highly-charged run through the new album ‘Barbara’ and the best bits of the first two albums – the glorious thrum of closer ‘After Hours’ getting the biggest cheer. Well, that and the bit where Chris Cain talks about the crowd having “toilet paper stuck in their buttcheeks” in his Yokel-best, anyway. MGMT don’t let the mediocrity of their new album slip into an impressive – and ‘Oracular Spectacular’-heavy – Glasto set, ‘Time To Pretend’ and the relentless folk stomp of ‘The Handshake’ the best bits.

Then, it’s over to BBC Introducing stage for Chew Lips’ headline performance. It might clash with MGMT, but it’s an impressive crowd who witness the ‘Unicorn’ trio strut their way through the likes of ‘Karen’, ‘Salt Air’ and ‘Play Together’, months on the road having moulded their songs into electro-pop powerhouses. With that, it’s off to the far reaches of the car park to venture home, Glastonbury having provided another magical weekend to the temporary residents of Worthy Farm. 2010 will be hard to live up to – can’t wait to see if 2011 does…

Niall Doherty / Harriet Gibsone