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- Our Twitter followers review Glastonbury 2010
Gorillaz should take lessons from Editors and Imogen Heap deserves more recognition – guardian.co.uk/music readers keep us in the know at Glastonbury
• @laurenloquax: wow at the drum's energy! better vocals live - raw&heaps more character. with all this sun, let's go surfing is my glasto anthem!
• @davidhaskoll: I love the dude from The Hold Steady, it's like he won a competiton to front the band for a day, or something..
• @thecolourmill: Beach House were the perfect hangover cure yesterday. Beautiful sounds and hot sun at the Park stage.
• @Rory_Foster: Frightened Rabbit putting on a great show for a sparse (but v enthusiastic at the front) crowd
• @AmeliaGregory An incredible secret acoustic set today from Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly
• @s_l_hart: Editors did what Gorillaz should've; 3 albums, showing the 3rd, interspersed with singles from the 1st 2. Kudos for a glasto shout!
• @AdamSRussell: Holy Fuck @ Queens Head seemed to take a while to get going & there were a few walkers. I enjoyed them
• @Harxy: lovely waif-pixie Imogen Heap played the set of her life. Absurdly talented, hopefully this will give her recognition she deserves
• @Wendy_Oloya: the energy from foreign beggars joined by dr syntax blew the roof of the west dance tent. Shame the most of the crowd were dire
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Переслать - Glastonbury 2010: Grace Dent's liveblog from the sofa – Sunday
Grace Dent has the best seat in the house for the third and final night of Glastonbury music. Join her from 7.30pm as she watches headliners Stevie Wonder and Orbital on TV
Friday: champagne with Dizzee, Snoop and Gorillaz
Saturday: cider with Scissor Sisters, Pet Shop Boys and Muse7.51pm: Also on red button: more Editors coverage. A paranoid woman would think the BBC are doing this to annoy me. (I am definitely NOT paranoid though, despite what everyone in the world is secretly saying about me.)
7.45pm: Slash is over on the red button chugging through Appetite For Destruction hits with the guitar behind his head. Amazingness of all types. Slash never ages, does he? That bedraggled Mr Peanut look hides all wrinkles. Slash, Maxi Jazz from Faithless and Floella Benjamin from Playschool; these people will not grow old as we grow old. Of course, Floella has never aged since 1978 as she drank Hamble's blood. Trufact.
7.30pm: Good evening people. La Roux on red-button coverage doing her big hit about the time she worked in a pet shop in the tropical bird section: "Going In for the Trill" (coughs). Coincidentally the rest of her set, to the sober ear, sounds like an angry sea cormorant trying to retrieve a portion of chips from a squeaky wheelie bin.
OK, tin hats on for Glastontelly part three. Oh how wonderful to be at home. At this moment in Somerset, thousands of mentally-awry, swivel-eyed people with third-degree burns are staggering about in circles.
"The foulest stench is in the air, the funk of 40,000 years" is how Vincent Price would describe the underwear situation of these poor souls, as they slosh back Feminax with mouthfuls of warm Teacher's, blotting out the dawn prospect of packing a five-man tent into a carrying case the size of a Malteser packet.
But not you and I, dear heart. We're AMAZING. Keep me company from 7.30pm for the final night of varied and scintillating BBC coverage.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - @guardianmusic followers get a Glastonbury festival treat
Frankie and the Heartstrings play a surprise acoustic set for those following @guardianmusic on Twitter
This is Frankie and the Heartstrings. And behind our photographer are 20 or so @guardianmusic followers who were cunning enough to keep half an eye on Twitter over Glastonbury weekend. For it was through the medium of tweet that we told people to congregate at the ribbon tower near the Park stage on Saturday at 4.50pm. Some of them, like 24-year-old Matt, trekked halfway across the site to see them rip through three acoustic numbers including the rather fabulous Possibilities. "It was great. It's nice to check out some of the things that aren't on the bill," he said through a fug of cider and sunburn. We left him chatting to the band, our musical match-making mission accomplished.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - Glastonbury gets to grips with grime pop
If you're moaning about where all the kids are at Glastonbury then maybe you need to get down the front for Tinie Tempah, Giggs and N-Dubz
Where are all the kids? That's a refrain often heard at Glastonbury in recent years and not just from the mouths of parents who accidentally passed out in the green fields. The number of young people at the festival had been thought to be declining, perhaps inexorably, but if anyone's wondering where the kids are at, let it be known that they're all down the front at Tinie Tempah.
I know this largely because I spent my Saturday at Dance East listening to a programme comprised entirely of English rappers. It proved to be very popular. Mobbed throughout the day, the tent thronged not only with teenagers, but actual, small, sunburnt children.
Rap and – if we're to be honest – black music in general has long been a minority interest at Glastonbury. White men with guitars, yes. Black men with DJs, less so. As Noel Gallagher once observed so succinctly, hip-hop in Glastonbury was wrong.
That was before Jay-Z turned the tables on the 90s rocker with a headline set that made the news and drew ginormous crowds. Last year, Dizzee Rascal performed a similar feat. The press stopped calling Dizzee a rapper after that, he was now a pop star. But what had really changed was not Dizzee's status but people's taste.
So that's what's really being played in Dance East this Saturday: pop music. You can tell from the screaming crowds, or the number of acts who feel inclined to take their tops off, or the cover versions of everybody from Pendulum to Lady Gaga. You can also tell from the figures: of the acts performing at Dance East, two – Tinie Tempah and Roll Deep – have just been to number one while two others, N-Dubz and Chipmunk are virtual fixtures on Radio 1.
Not everyone is likely to top the charts; Giggs, a Peckham native who talks like he's straight out of Compton, is perhaps too grisly to be a crossover success. That said, you never know and an afternoon at Dance East is enough to convince you that a generation with very broad tastes is just coming of age.
Owen, 18, comes from Devon. He and his friends came to Glasto for Giggs, for the hip-hop and grime. Alex, 18 and from Somerset, is excited by both N-Dubz and Florence.
If any of today's line up are to go large like Dizzee then it'll be Tinie. A great MC, Tempah has other key facets, like an obvious charisma and a willingness to remove his T-shirt for the ladies. He's also tapped into a heady new sound; a cross between grime, house and dubstep typified by his hit Pass Out. Tempah naturally ends his set with it and, not entirely surprisingly, a packed tent goes entirely bonkers for it.
Mistajam has championed many of this afternoon's acts in his shows on Radios 1 and 1xtra. He's an affable, articulate 20-something who's not surprised at all by Tempah and co's happy Glasto debuts. "It's a sign of the times," he says. "Pop music is what we make it and this music is dominating the charts right now. Popular music has always been what Glastonbury's about, right back to when it was the Pilton pop festival."
Part of the reason for the success, he says, is that both artists and fans are increasingly paying little attention to genre. "The artists who are making this music are 80s babies and 90s kids," he says. "They grew up used to seeing a dance track topping the charts one week, Oasis the next, and a random rapper the week after that. All that exposure to different music means their tastes are much broader and for the first time genre boundaries don't matter."
All of which explains why the most delirious moment of the day comes when Tempah performs a version of Lady Gaga's Bad Romance. The tent is packed and every single body, from the teens to the lairy lager lads, leaps up and down for the duration. Pop has got a brand new bag.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - Kylie, Scissor Sisters and the art of the Glastonbury guest spot | Blog
Scissor Sisters didn't really need a special guest for their Glastonbury set, but Kylie's appearance worked not because of her celebrity, but because she played against it
The business of bringing out a special guest midway through your set is a difficult matter to judge: too famous and they risk overshadowing you, too obscure and you risk a field full of WTF? faces. Furthermore, you never know what – or rather who – is going to work, particularly at Glastonbury. Who, for example, would have predicted the reception afforded to Glenn Gregory of Heaven 17, who arrived midway through La Roux's set to sing his 1983 hit Temptation? Nearly 30 years without a sniff of the charts, with Heaven 17's place in the pop pantheon a moot point at best, his appearance none the less provokes a degree of enthusiasm from the crowd that would scare a dictator off his balcony.
Scissor Sisters don't really need a special guest to ramp up audience enthusiasm: they have more than enough hits, two hugely engaging performers, and one of the festival's plum slots: the Pyramid stage at sunset on a Saturday evening. Plus, they seem to have a bottomless well of Glastonbury-related stories, which always go down well, particularly if – as in the case of when Jake Shears got engaged to his boyfriend – they conclude with the phrase, "I was in Lost Vagueness, off my face".
Nevertheless, they have one of Saturday night's big special guests (the other is The Edge, playing guitar on Muse's cover of Where the Streets Have No Name). The sort of person who "tsks" at Glastonbury becoming too commercial would presumably have a field-day with the delighted response afforded Kylie Minogue, who is announced as "a lucky competition winner", to perform Any Which Way. She looks genuinely thrilled with the reaction, but perhaps her guest appearance works not because of her celebrity, but because she plays against it. Rather than hogging the limelight, she slots herself perfectly into Scissor Sisters' world, gamely joining in with Shears and Ana Matronic's synchronised dance routines, providing an eerily accurate impersonation of the former's distinctive falsetto, dancing flirtatiously around guitarist Babydaddy. "First time at Glastonbury baby!" yells Shears at her departing form when the song ends. In response, she flashes him a delighted look that suggests it won't be her last.guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - Glastonbury 2010: Grace Dent's liveblog from the sofa – Saturday night
Grace Dent settles down in front of the telly to watch Muse, Scissor Sisters and Pet Shop Boys take to the stage for the second night of music
Read Grace Dent's Friday night blogDay two of Glastonbury on the Sofa. I'm still confident that giving the festival a swerve was wise and noble. Look at me, bushy-tailed and fragrant! I didn't crawl from my sweatbox tent this morning, dehydrated to the size of a Californian raisin. My alarm clock was NOT the low mooing of a jaded rock wife berating her au pair for losing all her raggedy-haired children in the Green Field 12 hours ago. Oh no. Everything in Dent Mansions is most genteel. No one with an infected lip-ring will be waggling my chakras or handcuffing me to one of Ozric Tentacles. Unlike in 2006, I won't be discovering a naked woman lying in a pile of falafel boxes behind the Jazz World stage, grinning and pleasuring herself.
I'm watching Glastonbury on the BBC instead. Pet Shop Boys, Shakira, Muse etc. Come and keep me company.
7.51pm: Hello. I've been drinking cider and watching red-button coverage. Thank heavens some clever-clogs marketing person decided that if you stick ice-cubes in cider it's not street-drinker fluid anymore. Cider certainly took the edge off 40 minutes of Imogen Heap's relentless fairy-tale screeching and Seasick Steve grouching on about 'his woman done left him and he don't know why.' Maybe she left because you jaunt around dressed as a Kentucky tractor driver, when the closest you gets to arable land is the vegan buffet backstage at The Culture Show.
8.17pm: Kate Nash is smashing her keyboard. For the love of God no one stop her! If we can ban her from Denmark Street in London W1 so she can't buy another one then some good fortune has come from this infernal din. I had a text earlier on from one sad-sounding friend who is working on BBC live coverage. It said simply, 'Burnt shins. Kate Nash new material'. Six words that say so much.
8.51pm: Shakira doing Hips Don't Lie, the regretful anthem for any woman who's had to be cut out of a dress in River Island changing rooms. Blimey Shakira is boring. I love how Shakira's always presented as one of pop's great intellectuals on account that she occasionally does her own beige stage make-up and croons lyrics like 'I'm a gypsy, I might steal your clothes' and knows people who play pan-pipes and can vaguely belly-dance. BRING BACK GAGA. If Gaga was here she'd have shot napalm out of her girdle by now and sung a song about the perils of vaginismus while wearing a hat made of elk bacon.
9.19pm: Blimey. I slipped into a hideous malaise during Reggie interviewing Shakira and Editors doing that 'Oh boohoo hospital wards, they smell bad' song in their grey Top Man smart-casual garb accompanied by lingering crowd shots of dozy women pretending to lez it up and do synchronised dancing and that stupid man in the front row on the Pyramid stage waving his comedy flag about U2. And now here's Kylie with Scissor Sisters, all doing the same daft Bee Gees falsetto voice and flashing their teeth and eyes like those people who wait at airports in New Zealand to scare Prince Charles. Is this what we've put up with six months of 'Will she/won't she' gossip about? What else has she got to do precisely? Surely she's up to date with designing pillow cases. *finishes pint glass/puts on head*
9.47pm: There are millions of unique, special, incredible, beautiful events happening in a field in Glastonbury on its 40th anniversary, on a balmy Saturday night at twilight. And somehow BBC are showing Edith Bowman interviewing Editors. And then going back for a second time tonight to Editors. Hands up anyone in the world who wants to see more of Editors?
10.14pm: Wild Beasts on red button. I love Wild Beasts. They're Cumbrian, like me. Everything Cumbrian is brilliant. Chris Bonnington, Lee Brennan from 911, Southwaite service station. All amazing. We've had a rough time in Cumbria recently with floods and droughts and other unspeakable things. It struck me the other day that perhaps a higher force is telling me that Cumbria is cursed and I, like Moses, need to lead my people somewhere else. I can't decide where. Maybe Rhyl, because they've got the SunCentre. I will definitely be taking Wild Beasts from Kendal with me on my exodus. They would be in charge of mint cake and singing in a very, very high voice like a nudist who's been startled by a snap-shut fire door.
10.38pm: News just in: Florence has just crashed the stage at The xx and performed You've Got The Love for the THIRD time this festival. Security on all other stages have been alerted. STAND FIRM, GLASTONBURY.
11.00pm: Pet Shop Boys look absolutely amazing. I am consumed with jealousy. Why didn't I go? Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad this time. It can't be worse than 2005 when the person driving me home was so spangled after four days they drove towards Bristol instead of London and got trapped in the one-way system, then drove round and round Bristol smelling strongly of chemical toilet, sobbing 'I don't know who I am anymore.' It would be worth it to see Neil in his bowler hat and Chris atop his giant Rubik's cube. There is no emoticon available to express my regret.
11.27pm: Oh bloody hell Muse. Muse and their limitless array of eight-minute-long 'Hey man lose yourself in the spacerock' noodlethons. I can't comprehend how there are so many women there. No women like Muse. None. If your girlfriend says she's going to a Muse concert without you, she is beyond doubt having text with her tennis coach. I can only imagine all these women watching Muse are the same women who bought first-night cinema tickets for Sex and the City 2, and they actually misheard Muse as 'Shoes'. Yes, that's it. 'Shoes'.
11.58pm: OK. Volte face in action. Muse are maybe the best thing on tonight. I've had too much strobe. I'll be playing Red Dead Redemption, snivelling about Doctor Who spoilers and having a cyber love affair with a man in Ohio I met on 4chan next. Seriously.
12.13am: What a fackin racket.
12.27am: Loving King Neil Tennant swishing about in a velour cape and a diamond crown to Viva La Vida. The crowd adores it too. Yet when I wear the same outfit to Guardian towers my editor calls it 'divisive' and 'unhelpful'. Double standards.
12.59am: Jo Whiley is chatting to The Edge, a man still relentless in his desire to resemble a millionaire plumber. I must go to bed. I can't face a moment more of Scissor Sisters and that coach trip from the Prudential in Dudley doing synchronised dancing on the front row. I'm turning the TV off and retiring to read a Nancy Mitford. This has been fun. Thank you everyone. Sometimes I feel like putting my hands up in the air. I know I can count on you. *FLORENCE LOOMS INTO SHOT CLUTCHING MICROPHONE MENACINGLY* Goodnight.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать
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