The Glastonbury 2009 review - part three!

Part Three

Sunday. The morning is hard work. People are falling about the place, tired and hungover from the excesses of Saturday night. Who can blame them? It was a big night, but there’s still a whole day of entertainments to enjoy and enjoy it we shall – from a seated position as my feet are hurting.

I indulge in some pie and mash for breakfast which sets me up nicely for the day. The last time I’d had pie and mash was Friday evening, in a slightly drunken state, and that seems ages ago now. On to business, I park myself and my camping chair towards the rear of the Pyramid Stage field and relax as the sun once again peeps out from behind a wispy, morning cloud.

I arrive just in time to catch Amadou et Mariam, an African outfit (I presume? – I suppose they could be from Croydon) who underwhelmed me with a somewhat lacklustre show that seemed to be all about lazy Afro-melodies, rhumba percussion and a sound that could have been rather more rootsy. It didn’t help that, slowly pickling in my comfy camping chair, I think I dozed off.

Things did improve, though, and on trots the voice of valley’s, Tom Jones. My hazy memories from last year were of the mighty Dame Shirley Bassey delivering the Sunday tea-time slot with remarkable aplomb. This year, Tom didn’t rise to similar heights I’m afraid, but solidly entertained with hits such as “Delilah” and “Its not Unusual”. More of a passing fancy than a defining moment.

So far so dull, to be honest. I suppose if I’d had the energy, I would have trundled over to the Other Stage to watch Bat For Lashes. Alas, I just couldn’t, and anyway it was nearly Blur time.

I’m getting ahead of myself. By this stage, the field had begun to fill with more and more punters – what could they be waiting for? Well, it wasn’t long before Madness, that perennial British favourite, appeared to the delight of the capacity crowd. What followed was a set that clearly demonstrated why the band have remained a household favourite for so long. They have so many great tunes, so much daft energy. A saxophone player hosted up on wires flew around the stage, tooting his instrument. Lead singer Suggs, suited and booted as you would expect, addressed the crowd and milked every last drop of deadpan humour from his darkly comic songs. Only in England would you get a band like this. I’ll never forget the sight of seventy thousand people skanking around to the bounce of “Baggy Trousers”. Magic.

In complete contract, but no less special, was Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. This was dark, dark and thrice dark. A big, guttural rock sound with dirty, overdriven guitars, Cave himself a malovent prescence stalking the front of the stage and delivering his songs with a rare growl. I can’t claim to know any songs by the band by name, and at times I did feel hampered by this unfamiliarity. Cave is a songwriter and a storyteller. Somewhere in this dark mass of noise there are narratives waiting to unfold on multiple listens. I guess that’s why they invented records!

Those of you who know me will know that I am a massive fan of Blur. It will come as no surprise to any of you that this was the set I was waiting for with some considerable anticipation, not least because this was an opportunity to watch the band following the return of original guitarist Graham Coxon to the line-up – arguably the finest guitarist of his generation. They are all touching forty now. I remember them as fresh-faced twenty-somethings from “Down South” who p*ssed all over these Northern bands like Oasis and The Smiths who, being from “Up North”, we were all supposed to be into during the mid-nineties.

So, as darkness fell over the Pyramid stage for the closing set of the festival, a great roar went up when the band launched into their debut single “She’s So High”, and tumbled out onto the stage. The last time I had seen them play at Glastonbury was the headline set in 1998, the year Britpop died. This was better, fresher, more energetic, and better represented the depth and breadth of material that they had amassed over the course of seven studio albums. I particularly enjoyed the material they played from their second long-player “Modern Life Is Rubbish” – probably my favourite ever album – as I thought I’d never get to hear them live. For the Blur nerds out there, like me, they played no less than five tracks of the record – “Chemical World”, “Sunday, Sunday”, “Oily Water”, “Advert” and of course “For Tomorrow”. To that list you can add “Popscene”, which was released as an EP around the same time. Great stuff.

And so Glastonbury 2009 came to a close. Following the Jay-Z debacle last year, when the festival regained its crown as the best of the best, this year it could have felt complacent. Far from it. The festival delivered once again and on balance still manages to justify the ticket price of £175. The best thing of all was the weather, which was almost perfect. If you can plonk yourself on the grass and not get a wet arse – well that scores very highly in my book. I felt sad when we left. I always do. However, I’m safe in the knowledge that I can do it all again next year...