UNCUT GLASTONBURY FESTIVAL AWARDS 2009
THE WORST BEST KEPT SECRET
The KLAXONS’ surprise appearance on the Park Stage (Saturday). Superhero fancy dress and all.
SONG OF THE SUMMER
Florence & The Machine, ‘Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up’. The perfect Pagan anthem for the sunkissed Children Of Avalon (John Peel Stage, Saturday).
BEST GLASTO DEBUT
‘Saucy Jack’, SPINAL TAP’s theme to their legendary musical about Jack the Ripper received its world premier on the Main Stage (Saturday), eclipsing even the wee fellers jigging about to ‘Stonehenge’ and guest turns by Jarvis Cocker (bass on ‘Big Bottom’) and Jamie Cullum (keys on the jam).
THE WORST BEST KEPT SECRET
The KLAXONS’ surprise appearance on the Park Stage (Saturday). Superhero fancy dress and all.
SONG OF THE SUMMER
Florence & The Machine, ‘Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up’. The perfect Pagan anthem for the sunkissed Children Of Avalon (John Peel Stage, Saturday).
BEST GLASTO DEBUT
‘Saucy Jack’, SPINAL TAP’s theme to their legendary musical about Jack the Ripper received its world premier on the Main Stage (Saturday), eclipsing even the wee fellers jigging about to ‘Stonehenge’ and guest turns by Jarvis Cocker (bass on ‘Big Bottom’) and Jamie Cullum (keys on the jam).
Click on the link for Part One of the interview.
You recorded with Syd Barrett.
Well he asked us. I was really surprised, but we [Soft Machine and The Pink Floyd] were two bands that played in the same places that weren’t playing “In The Midnight Hour” and stuff – because neither of us could play it very well, probably.
It’s the moment half way through the set when she arrives, with a swish of the curtain, on stage astride a giant silver skull, wearing a flowing red trouser suit and cap, that we realise we just aren’t in Kansas any more, Toto.
A snoozefest. Zzzzzzzzz. Pretty bloody boring – just a few of the predictions about Sigur Ros’s Latitude headline set from some of my colleagues and friends this afternoon. I have to admit that, after seeing Metronomy’s dancey geek-pop about half an hour before, the prospect of a bunch of deathly slow ethereal meanderings sung in a foreign language (or, of course, a completely made-up language) didn’t seem like the most appealing prospect.
So, the start of Neil Young’s six-night stand in London, and a lot of the schtick will be familiar to anyone who’s read Damien’s review of the Edinburgh show. Neil bumbles around the stage in what we might optimistically call a Proustian reverie, warms his hands on a stage light, plays “Ambulance Blues” and stops time dead in its tracks.
It occurred to me, as I stumbled somewhat exhausted out of last night's screening of Paul Thomas Anderson's epic movie about oil, greed and murder, that both this film and The Assassination Of Jesse James seem to be a return to the kind of filmmaking not seen since Heaven's Gate.