John Robb Glastonbury diary : Saturday
‘Midnight to six man…’ as Joe Strummer once sung and I’m on that shift again, wading through the mud stained carnage of late night Glastonbury. There are no owls tonight but my head is full of the glowing power of Mogawi who have just left the Park stage after delivering a definitive set and I’m heading up the hill to the Crows Nest- my new favourite festival stage.
A small tight space holding 300 this is the kind of area where anything happens- from spoken word to impromptu sets from the likes of Gruff Rhys and it has a bar that sells the best green tea on the site and you get to look out over the Glastobury festival leering across the distance like the biggest temporary city in the world.
Today has been all about Metallica and the endless debate over whether rock should be allowed in to Glastonbury. We like to ask ‘what took so long??’ surely this festival was always about diversity and Metallica fit that idea perfectly. Of course rock has a place here – if the Rolling Stones sort of broached the gap last year with their timeless rock n roll it was not going to be a big shift to crank it up a bit more. We would have liked to have seen AC/DC as the next step- after all they have the funk and the zig zag riffs to make them one of the great party bands but I guess they would cost the earth and that without Malcolm Young their rhythm guitar engine room they may not be quite the band they were. Metallica, though, are one of the biggest bands on the planet and their dark behemoth was scaring the Arcade Fans and their rolled up copies of the Guardian into message-board frenzy as they were running around attempting to swot away anyone who dared to question their idea of ‘good taste’
Whatever next? Rammstein?
My money is on Led Zeppelin- after all Robert Plant was imperious earlier on and it’s only a couple of phone calls away- Plant to Page and then management to the fab Emily Eavis and then a perfect hammer of the gods moment to cap a stunning career.
Glastonbury today has been all about the weather, it always is. Fierce sun switches to pissing rain as people stare at mobile phone weather reports trying to guess the weather like British summer has suddenly become digital predictable. The rain and the mud are always with us and everyone is building thighs like gorillas as they wade from one scene to another. Again faces appear out the gloom and the fractured dance music provides the party soundtrack