Week 26
Glastonbury – Sunday Part I
“Kelly, can you handle this? Michelle, can you handle this? Beyoncé, can I handle you?”
So sang Barlow, who was positively smitten with the sassy singer. He had competition from Cousin Bish, who places Beyoncé at the very top of his ‘To-do list’, a highly coveted position. Sandro, however, only had eyes for ‘The Ginger Elvis’ himself, Josh Homme.
After a four hour kip during which I dreamed of Candy performing Beyoncé‘s ‘Crazy in Love’ (unfortunately, inspired by a real topless rendition some years ago), I woozily rose for what was the final day of the festival. After days of moaning about the rain, Saturday had been warm, and on Sunday the Sun was finally completely unobstructed, and free to scorch our skin, so it seemed only right to moan about it. Everyone was tired, most were nursing five-day hangovers, some were sunburnt, and Candy looked on the verge of death.
He rose from our sweaty tent wearily, and was out for the count on a camping chair within minutes. “Which are my wellies?” he asked when he stirred, before pulling on the ones I’d pointed to. Bizarrely, once he’d wellied up, he ducked back into the tent, eased himself down until he was lying on his belly and fell back asleep, with his legs spread in upsetting fashion. It was a harrowing image that hinted that he wouldn't be moving for a while.
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Although it was comfortably my earliest morning of the decade, I didn’t see any music until after one o’clock, when a delayed Foster The People played at the John Peel Tent. The Americans released their first album earlier this year to pretty good reviews and sales, so naturally I’d never heard of them, but they were worth the watch.
Cousin Bish, Flapjack, P. Mushy, Salazar and Sandro all arrived in time for a band I had heard of, The Joy Formidable, who were making a record third appearance in Gigaweek, an outstanding achievement. During a further delay, a desperate, exhausted and slightly rotund figure appeared before us from nowhere, dripping with sweat and looking distressed. Bleary eyed and gasping for water, he didn’t notice us until he was less than a yard away.
“Candy!” I exclaimed in shock.
Overcome with relief, he was silent and threw his arms around an understandably thrilled Flapjack, in a warm embrace.
The Joy Formidable were typically entertaining, playing a set similar to the one they played at The Manics a month ago, with the fine addition of ‘A Heavy Abacus’. Once they’d finished we popped for a bite to eat, which was almost literally the case for Candy, who binned the majority of his pasta dish, and declared himself dead.
So bad he felt, that he said he was considering getting a train home as soon as possible, which I dismissed as poppycock. Admittedly he looked terrible, but he’s a terrible looking guy so I didn’t think anything of it. I prescribed a siesta, and assured him that he’d be fine in no time, while Sandro offered me 1/5 odds on Candy being one of the five or six bodies found at the end of the festival.
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Flapjack and I then went to meet The Wiggler at the West Dance tent, where Dan Le Sac vs. Scroobius Pip were doing their thing. Their thing was some kind of electronic-hip-hop-pop-a-pot-a-mus, and happened to be one of my highlights of the weekend. Most of the packed tent seemed to think so too, delighted by a mixture of smart and witty lyrics, Pip’s engaging stage presence, and the odd one-liner from Le Sac, who also contributed the beats.
‘The Beat That My Heart Skipped’, was a fine start, ‘Get Better’ was impressive, and the show did with the incomparable ‘Thou Shalt Always Kill’. There was even room for a pinch of Radiohead (surprisingly not from In Rainbows or King of Limbs) in ‘Letter from God to Man’, which features a sample of ‘Planet Telex’. Metronomy were next in the tent but we forsook them and headed to the BBC Introducing Stage, following a tip off from eagle eyed Cousin Bish.
Gruff Rhys, who was headlining the Park Stage in the evening, was playing an acoustic set as a Special Guest that was also to be broadcast live on 6music. He only played three songs which was a shame, especially for Sandro, Sal and P. Mushy who missed ‘If We Were Words, (We Would Rhyme)’ and didn’t understand a word of the Welsh lyric(s) to the next song ‘Gyrru Gyrru Gyrru’. He finished his short set with the sensational ‘Sensations in The Dark’, before disappearing with a quick ‘Thankyouverymuch!’
P. Mushy then had a sudden flash of recognition, remembering that K-may was pregnant he bolted, while the rest of us headed to see The Vaccines back at the John Peel tent. The Vaccines injected some pace into proceedings, with their short, sharp and poppy guitar tunes, and once they’d finished we went back to the Other Stage to see Eels, who were electric where we received word from T-Reez regarding the fortunes of Kimbo and Little P, but Candy’s fate was unknown.
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Kimbo and Little P had made the dramatic decision to leave early, swapping Beyoncé in favour of a drive home to sleep in an actual bed. It was a shock to the system, they were good people, and so young. We mourned their loss, Sandro wept, and when Sal and I went to retrieve some much needed alcohol we bumped into them, where they confirmed my worst fears; Candy wasn’t going with them. Instead we were told he had gone to the Pyramid to prepare for Beyoncé, which presumably meant he was lathering up.
Returning to the Other Stage where Kaiser Chiefs had begun, I was reminded of Sal’s intense dislike for them. A chance encounter with front-man Ricky Wilson at one of their gigs several years ago had ended in tears. Ricky’s tears. Sandro and Sal tell wildly different versions of the famous tale, but the gist of it is that Sal didn’t know who Ricky was, Ricky didn’t know who Sal was, one of them was unimpressed by this fact and was consequently rude to the other one, so the other one attacked the rude one with a rolling pin.
The Kaisers reminded a decent crowd of their collective value though, with songs like ‘Ruby’, ‘Modern Way’, Oh My God’ and there was a mini riot during ‘I Predict A Riot’ sparked by a chap who really doesn’t understand the value of subtlety. Moi. It was a great warm up to Queens of the Stone Age, who were the alternative headliners at the Other. K-May, P. Mushy, Sandro and I did a Zane Lowe and opted for Queens of the Stone Age over Beyoncé, not because we’re fans of course, we’re just sexist and racist, especially K-May.
The more liberal T-Reez and Sal made their way to the Pyramid, while The Wiggler and Flapjack chose the Welsh option in the form of Gruff Rhys. Cousin Bish and Barlow, also headed to the Pyramid, both confident of attracting Beyoncé’s attentions, but with Candy present, what hope did they have?
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