- Glastonbury is famous the world over for two things: rock music and mud. People actually relish the rain. Recent years, though, have seen unprecedented levels of sunshine, so as early forecasts trickled through in mid-June, predicting one of the wettest weekends in years, it was hard not to feel a little disappointed. I braced myself for a battle against the elements, but when I arrived on site, the sun was shining. Tropical weather patterns would define the weekend, with fierce, fleeting downpours followed by lengthy periods of clear skies and warm rays.
My Friday began with Minneapolis synth-heads Poliça in the cavernous John Peel Tent, with Channy Leaneagh's sad, soaring vocals hovering beautifully over the band's intricate double-drum kit setup. From there it was over to The Other Stage for a dose of polished alt-rock from Interpol, and then to the Pyramid for a joyous singalong with Canadian multi-intrumentalists Arcade Fire.
Though Glastonbury has had a designated electronic area since 1997, it largely caters to the more popular end of the spectrum, leaving the darker, underground fare to the festival's afterhours venues. Barely 20 minutes out of the melodic clutches of Friday's main-stage headliner, I found myself bobbing along to piercing Detroit house from Lil' Louis in the company of no more than 100 people. Moments later and I was inside The Temple—imagine a mini, dirty Colosseum—moving jerkily to jungle and acid techno from DJ AFX, AKA Aphex Twin. Keen not to end the night on such a fractured note, I ventured back to Genosys at Block9, an outside stage built to look like a dilapidated, futuristic tower-block, where I danced until sunrise to the rich, cosmic techno of Felix Dickinson. Glastonbury, more so that any other festival, is all about variety.
Saturday started brightly, with John Wizards' vivacious midday set on the West Holts stage coaxing the sun from its slumber. The heat stuck around for Warpaint on The Other Stage, though their feeble patter and washy guitars felt dwarfed by the occasion. The same can't be said for New York left-field disco veterans ESG, whose Park Stage performance was an assertive masterclass in no-frills funk. Sporting baggy t-shirts and broad smiles, the five-piece proved the surprise hit of the weekend. Happy but worn out from a day spent arduously trudging, I retired to bed, determined to make the most of a rain-free Sunday.
Thankfully, the forecast was true to its word. With precious few hours of the festival remaining, it was all about cramming in as much as possible. Of the daytime acts, rising star Kwabs stole the show in the cosy La Pussy Parlure Nouveau, before Massive Attack closed out The Other Stage with a radiant set of downtempo classics—proof that intimate performance is as much a part of the Glastonbury tradition as stadium-sized revelry. Over at Genosys, Paranoid London were treating the mud-stained faithful to a flawless 90 minutes of live, low-slung acid. François K followed suit, throwing down a flurry of even harder 303s. To see out the festival once and for all, though, there's only one place befitting: NYC Downlow. Fronted by a chorus of drag queens, Luke Howard of Horse Meat Disco spun timeless classics like John Paul Young's "Love Is In The Air" to a technicoloured and visibly teary room.
900 acres, 63 stages, 200,000 people—in terms of size, Glastonbury is in a league of its own. To put that in context, when the festival is up and running, it becomes the seventh largest "city" in the south of England. And like the best cities, Glastonbury offers its inhabitants a diverse range of entertainment, allowing each individual the freedom to sculpt their own, unique weekend experience. (So vast is the wealth of options available, you could speak to two attendees and struggle to believe they were even present at the same event.) But better than any city, Glastonbury is a corporate-free zone. With no exclusive alcohol deals and no divisions between the campsites and the action, revelers are free to bring in and consume as much of their own food and drink as they wish. Were you to plan accordingly, it'd be entirely possible not to spend a single penny on-site all weekend. As a punter, it's these touches that make the experience feel that much more human.
And unlike so many of its peers, Glastonbury never feels conquered. I've been five times and I've not even come close to visiting every field. There's always reason to return, which is why people do, almost religiously, year-on-year. As a result, Glastonbury is steeped not only in the lore of the area and the music, but in the personal history of each individual. It becomes the site of break-ups and new friendships. Personally, I'll always remember The Other Stage for crafting that moment when dance music first hit home. As the years roll on, that last weekend in June comes to mean something different, and more profound, each time. This, along with the music and the mud, is what makes Glastonbury the best festival in the world.