The Glastonbury 2011 Review - Part One

FRIDAY 24 JUNE

It was the first day at Glastonbury, and I was being held hostage by a toast spread-producing insect. A bee had infiltrated the front quad of my tent, and while under any other circumstances this would be no cause for alarm, there was something suspicious about this one. It's stinger was out and it was shaking, out of control... demented.

Out there in the fields I could hear the bands starting up, but I was prepared to play the long game. "So this is how we're going to do it, huh?" I said, in between bouts of blowing through the net at the damn thing. It wasn't long however, before a fully blown case of urbanoia came over me. "Please! Just let me go!"

I saw a neighbour's legs stroll past. "Wait! Don't walk past! I'm being held hostage in my tent!" The legs moved nervously onwards. I was in it for the long game, alright.

Even after I escaped, Glastonbury 2011 wasn't immediately all peace, love and ecstasy: Metronomy sounded somewhat sleepy and colour-diluted, while Mona strutted about pretending to be the Kings of Leon on the John Peel stage. Gurrumph. Where's the imagination?!

Brighton's Sparrow were equally epic with one tenth of the ego, but it wasn't until the Wu Tang Clan took over the Pyramid till things started getting interesting: prancing around in bath robes, they encouraged thousands of people to point their "guns in the air" (que nervous looks) while delivering material from debut album 36 Chambers.

Meanwhile, the Jim Jones Revue were virtually shooting petrol-flames out of their nostrils, with the man himself climbing scaffolding to deliver 'Shoot First' and the audience gradually caving in to boogie. Fever Fever follow up with some hyperpunk on the BBC Introducing, and finally things are on a roll.

Special guests Radiohead were met first with ecstasy, then with the beard stroking realisation that it was impossible to get near them. Or even hear them properly, come to that: they're playing a stage that's 5% the size of the Pyramid with a similarly reduced volume. The best I could make out was that Thom Yorke was dancing like the goat creature from Pan's Labyrinthe.

At least U2 had the soundsystem, but whether it was down to inflatable protest missiles, stage fright or Buddha knows what, they didn't make the connection some of the crowd were willing them to, instead playing with an ironic kind of shyness and determination to just get the hell through it.

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