Saturday
Argh there they go again! Boom Boom Boom bang bang bang! Camping backstage has it's advantages too, but this? What TIME do you call this?
Oh, wait. It's 11am. Breakfast is bubble & squeak, tomatoes, beans and eggs. It's all veggie food in our camp, sadly. It's a good job I've brought a supply of pepperami to keep me going! I watch the morning performers go out, the tea ladies, pirates and amazing puppets (above) and I watch these kids skating on the huge half pipe that's been built next to our back gate. Folky tap dancers Shindig keep me entertained before I wander off to the bandstand again to support some more local Bristolians.
Bath band The Ash Mandrake Project are on when we arrive, it's drizzling again and they play some pretty unusual songs, a sort of cross between folky country and African music on djembe, guitar and flute. Jeremy Smoking Jacket play a great set, looping noises over which Rose Kemp's beautiful voice rings hauntingly out over the muddy field. A small damp crowd gathers and I promote the fire show to any fellow Chokers who will listen.
Then it's time for the big trek to the top field and the new section of Glastonbury, The Park. There is a queue outside the Orange phone charging tent a mile long. Surely it's not worth waiting now? Just come back later, losing your mates is what festivals are all about! Or used to be.
It's pouring when we arrive and we take refuge in the Stonebridge bar where they're having hip hop Karaoke. I mock the naughty fire steward who has her nose buried in a book for the entire 30 minutes we are there. Bad fire steward, what if someone catches fire? They do seem to be a bit overstaffed in the bar, something to do with the rain, I'm sure. We are driven out by some awful dance noise from the new DJ and go to check out Ed Harcourt, who is pretty good, he has some nice summery songs anyway and the rain stops for a moment.
A security jeep tries to cross the field - patches of which are foot-deep mud traps - and ends up going mostly sideways, spraying all the hippies behind it with thick, wet clay. The mud in this field is the worst yet, the field isn't very flat so you slide all over the place, I walk along clinging to the heras fencing, squashing the last, brave blades of grass into the mud.
When Ed Harcourt finishes I seize my chance to shine and begin to play a piano that someone has put under a shelter in the field. I do Le Moulin and a couple of other Yann Tiersen pieces, which receive a standing ovation and gather a huge crowd. Well not really. But a couple of people stop to listen and my captive audience (where there are seats, there will be people) all say it's very nice.
Lou Rhodes is amazing. She has such a uniquely husky alto voice and she sings beautiful songs. There is plenty of straw in front of the stage so we get to sit down (what luxury!) and the rain fails to put a damper on the music. It feels like the sun is shining and for a moment at least I don't mind that the rain is starting to soak through my coat.
Another long walk later, past the horrific guitar pop of Babyshambles on the other stage, we find the most impressive mud puddle yet in the Dance Village. This is all in the flood plains and there is a 15cm layer of light brown mud about the consistency of a milkshake that we have to wade through. There is a stall in the middle of the mud plain selling fresh croissants to dance fans. The techno and drum and bass is ringing out over the field but we're only interested in getting into the big dance tent, to see the great DJ Yoda.
He's alright I suppose, not nearly as great as he should have been, given that his last album is astounding. There are none of those songs here, just an empty stage and a demonstration of masterful video DJ-ing. He cuts up films and mixes them with old classic songs, the videos scratch when he does, it's very impressive. There is a big BUT though. The set is more geared towards getting cheers and being clever than producing a coherent soundtrack to dance to. Each piece lasts about a minute and just when you've got into it he throws a spanner in the works and does something completely different. It's all a bit confusing really. Still, I'm glad I saw it, the man's a genius but I wish he'd had some guests and done some proper tunes.
Maximo Park are shrieking away as we head home for dinner, pausing in the glade near some weeing people to see what Dreadzone are up to these days. Not much, by the looks of things - there was hardly any dub and it looks like this is another great dance band that's gone a little bit too pop. There is no queue at the Orange tent, see what could have been achieved with a little patience? Young people today, I don't know...
The drizzly rain clears up again for Eddie Egal, we've been telling everyone that tonight is the last night because, well, it is and there is a good amount of people here. Again I'm not quick enough and end up right in the middle at the front but I don't mind so much this time, as long as nothing starts hissing or blowing up. We've also just been told that Eddie has to use up all his gas tonight, and plans on 'having a bit of a play' with the gas until it's all gone about half an hour after the show, so we'll be working until about half past three tonight.
It goes really well. Nothing blows up, nothing goes wrong. The fire shower and the naked man running around being chased by girls with flamethrowers gets a few shrieks and laughs, the most amazing thing in the show is right at the end when a lone fountain is left on stage, with the top burning away. It's a wonder of science, I tell thee!
This is only the sixth time they've done this particular show and they've taken a few things on board like MORE FIRE and LESS p1ssing about at the beginning before the fire! when it's all finished we stand about in the cold, although it's still not raining while the performers mess around taking promotional photos.
They mess around with the gas quite a lot, everyone having a go on the buttons but they get bored after about 15 minutes and don't bother trying to finish off. The two girls come out and wave their flamethrowers around, little realising, or caring, that they show us their nipples everytime they reach up into the air. I'm sure that'll be on the extras in the DVD! The dancing and the sexy girls are all well and good, but what we really want is Big, scary FIRE!
One of the things about wearing the orange jacket is that everyone seems to want to talk to you, which is sometimes quite rewarding in a smug sort of a way. A man talks to me at great length about how he's come to every Glastonbury for the last ten years only this year he couldn't get a ticket so he wrote to Michael and complained and Michael said he was terribly sorry, here, have some on the house. He came to see the fire show twice. They're insane! A woman says, They MUST be German!
Yes, I say. They are.
