K! venture down to Worthy Farm again, and though broadly occupied by pop artists across its main stages this year, we spend the weekend getting dust in our eyebrows and tracking down all things heavy and alt. at the biggest fest of the summer…
A moment of silence for those still power-washing mud off their clothes from Download, because at this year's Glastonbury the only filth we can find is emanating from the guitars of its finest rock and alt. acts (if you ignore the toilets).
Compared to 2023’s line-up – when the likes of Guns N’ Roses, Foo Fighters and Royal Blood took to the Pyramid Stage – this year sees the majority of our favourite bands pocketed in varying tents and culturally niche stages on the Glasto map. But fear not: we’ve got our walking boots on. Come down to the farm with us…
Glastonbury is well-known for extravagance, but there's nowhere on the grounds as fucking terrific as Woodsies right now. Opening the stage on its first day, Marysa, Widi and Siti of Indonesian power trio Voice Of Baceprot are just as joyful to watch as they are commandeering and ferocious.
The three young women are the first Indonesian band to ever play at the festival, and they bring all the belters from their debut album Retas. After a hung silence and a little twang of Marysa’s guitar, they open with [NOT] PUBLIC PROPERTY and the bass is rib-crushing. During their 45-minute set, they each show off their technical ability like it’s second nature with instrumental masterpiece Kawani as the cornerstone, as Marsya takes a seat on the drum riser, bringing an air of casualness to her finger-tapping guitar work.
They uplift and spotlight one another as they each have their moments, calling on Glasto to cheer. Among their many thank yous, before they leave us, Widi lets it slip that today is actually Marysa’s birthday, and as the three gather in a group hug, she tells the applauding crowd that being here is the best gift she could ask for. And as she dabs away tears, the potency and vitality of their performance hits even harder. VOB are phenomenal, and they do metal right.
Phoebe Lunny is asking us to raise our hands if we know what love bombing is, and on a very unrelated note, Lilly Macieira wants to know if we’ve had breakfast this morning. We raise our hands, and then no further context is given. This is Lambrini Girls: batshit weirdness mixed with frenzied punk bangers. It’s their own brand of live show, and they’re bloody good at it.
At one of three Glasto performances this year, the lairy Lambrinis exude a 'Let's ’ave it!' confidence – Lilly is pouring beer into Phoebe’s mouth right from the get-go, and Phoebe is spitting it out like she’s about to swing in a bar fight. Through the thumping sounds of God’s Country, Body Of Mine, and TERF Wars, they’re working the crowd and curating a little space in which queer legends are celebrated and we’re allowed to release our anger about sexual harassment and assault through one big scream. All of this is sandwiched between Phoebe jumping both in and on the crowd, and she even lets us play a game of limbo with her microphone wire. The winner is allowed to slap her right in the kisser (and they do). It’s weird in the Woodsies tent, and brilliantly so.
When Frank Turner sings under the shade of the overspilling Avalon tent, he rarely sings alone. Here, he says, he feels like he is most among “his people”, and the stage doesn’t separate him from us. It certainly feels that way, as the swarm of sun-drenched fists pump in the air and voices coalesce to sing along to Recovery. His set is stripped-back, just Frank and his guitar, with offerings old and new – Girl From The Record Shop, Ceasefire, and new album’s title-track, Undefeated, all make the cut. It’s both simple and unifying.
“We’re not a band that likes to tell you what to do, but if anyone wants to start a circle-pit we won’t say no,” says Sprints vocalist Karla Chubb. Left Field happily obliges. It’s Friday evening, and we’re at Glastonbury. Obviously we want a pit.
The garage punk four-piece play with such speed at parts of their set that their limbs blur as if vibrating and unattached from actual human beings. Their following is loyal, and they’re not too cool to show their gratitude for that. And of course, upon one of Glasto’s most prolific political stages, Karla also uses her time to share the band’s support for those affected by the devastation occurring in Palestine, for the trans community, and to share her admiration for women. A punked-up cover of OG activist band Le Tigre’s Deceptacon is a testament to this, and Up And Comer goes exceptionally hard.
West Holts always delivers on the different, and Heilung bring just that. Taking to the stage during golden hour, with the sun drenching their enchanting tree-decorated performing area, the bass of their gurgling throat singing and wailing siren vocals are hypnotising even the most unlikely characters among us. People can’t quite believe what is happening before them. Nobody is sure if they should feel afraid, or if they're now a part of something… bigger.
What’s most bewitching about Heilung is how long and intricate their compositions are – it would feel insulting to call them tracks – and their ability to build entire pieces using mostly voice, carried on a foundation of string instruments and gigantic drums. Everyone onstage is in character and channelling their spiritual past. Smiles are limited, but the release of aggression is not. Heilung are an acquired taste, but the skill and talent within their set is undeniable.
The Skinaissance is in full swing and Benji Webbe has never looked cooler. After AC/DC's pumps around the tent, the inimitable Skindred frontman strides in with his own black and white union flag. It’s a headline set, and they’re not messing around, with Set Fazers vibrating along the grass beneath us straight away.
Skindred's set is a show, an event. It’s not just song after song, it’s made even more captivating by added anecdotes, ridiculously cool outfit changes and dropping in some all-out hip-hop bangers.
Benji explains why he wanted to be in a band, a tale of finding The Specials during his teenage years, and wanting to spread that same magic in his own way – music that brings together all, despite race, religion, and background. It would be fair to say that’s just what the Welsh heroes have done. We know we’re in the presence of greatness here, and these factors are of no concern at Avalon.
It’s a true Friday night party as the band treat us to That’s My Jam and TikTok viral classic Nobody, which is given a sped-up drum’n’bass outro. And no Skindred show would be complete without the Newport Helicopter. It’s, ahem, a Warning for one last chance to get rowdy, and the T-shirts come off, propelling us into the madness of Glastonbury's nightlife…
It’s 11:30am as Irish hip-hoppers Kneecap hit the stage, but in festival hours it's Too Early. And yet, the tent is positively packed with a loyal following of Kneecappers, ready to swig on tinnies and get feral. This is no peaceful wake up for Woodsies. The trio want moshing, they want movement, they want craic. With chants of ‘your sniffer dogs are shite’ and ‘get your brits out’ (both from tracks of the same name), the hordes get what they ask for. Their debut album only just landed, and we’ll put our bets down now that next time Kneecap are back on Worthy Farm, they’ll be moving up to an even bigger stage.
High Vis have come full-circle. According to singer Graham Sayle, their very band name was inspired by the fact they used to dress up in high-vis vests to sneak into festivals. He laughs sheepishly as he admits it, but they can make up for it now.
They’re grateful to be here, yet the high emotion of playing in Pilton doesn’t bring down their fervour and attack onstage, their performance of Choose To Lose is a strong example. It’s rough and rowdy Britpop-inflected punk from one of the best and hardest-working bands the UK right now. What more could you want?
This is Mannequin Pussy’s last weekend in the UK before they head back to the States, and there’s something they’re not happy about. What is the UK’s problem with the word pussy? Why is it, vocalist Missy questions, that broadcasters are happy to say words like ‘buzzcocks’, but not pussy? This is dealt with right away, as Missy decides she wants all the men in attendance to shout the word with her to shake off any of that discomfort. The results are both powerful and hilarious, as camera operators flash up varying footage of perplexed geezers in the Woodsies tent – all met with roars of laughter.
Which is a wonderful segue into Loud Bark. Missy works the stage like a brilliantly grungy, sexually empowered fairy, swaying between ethereal whispers and glorious growls. We’re given permission to make unholy noises and let ourselves feel pure pleasure. On a more serious and vital note, bass player Bear takes centre stage before they leave us for a performance of Pigs Is Pigs, taking some time to address racism and police brutality in the U.S., and shows support for Palestine. They put their whole pussy in this Glasto set and it delivers. See? We’re not afraid to say it.
If you’re looking for a raucous Saturday, those vibes have all but disappeared from Woodsies’ chaotic start. It’s much calmer now, and Soccer Mommy’s Sophia Allison's sun-soaked guitar soothes us into the late afternoon after spending a morning in the stale air of a striped circus tent. Treating the crowd to new single Lost – as well as fan-favourites Shotgun and Your Dog – she’s still and chill. Everything is lighter now.
The Breeders wear The Park Stage like a pair of comfy slippers. Kim and Kelley Deal are casual, cool and charismatic, as the sun just peeps over the top of the stage. The vibes are right as Worthy Farm basks in its pale yellow cast. Their set delivers the lulled Drivin’ On 9 to the warbling beachy guitar tone of Cannonball, and as a former member of the Pixies, Kim swaps on to the bass to perform their 1988 classic, Gigantic. For The Breeders, Glasto 2024 is like a walk in the park.
Shit has gotten very real for Delilah Bon. At her late-night Peace Stage set, there’s a huge crowd hungry for something they can move to, and she brings it. Compared to her appearance at Left Field last year, the brat punk innovator’s set has levelled-up completely. She’s more confident, the choreography is bolder and more inventive, and the addition of live drums gives this show an added magnetism that's pulling in straggling passers by. The crisp snap of the snare combined with controlled fry vocals and thick bass are making teeth grit and bodies jump. When wrapping up with Maverick, Delilah and bassist Ruena clamour to the floor, with Delilah shoving the mic to her face and singing at her like it’s a threat. This is Delilah at her best yet.
Bodies are circling like they’re spiralling down a drain at The Other Stage. It’s the final day of the fest, and it seems heads aren’t sore enough to miss SOFT PLAY. Isaac Holman and Laurie Vincent have had their fair share of fun too, but they’re powering through. They bring their usual dry, self-deprecating sense of humour and humble manner. They’re unchanged by their Glasto greatness, it seems. “There’s a quid on the floor there,” Isaac halts mid-sentence from inside the crowd. “Here you are, mate,” he says, passing it to a nearby fan before chaos in the pit resumes.
Ahead of their forthcoming album HEAVY JELLY, they deliver all of its latest singles, from the satirical Mirror Muscles to poignant Everything And Nothing, for which the two best friends stand together centre stage as it comes to its close, with Isaac smiling proudly. They’ve had a name change and each faced personal turmoil over the last six years, and yet they stand on the cusp of a new chapter. We’re so glad they’re continuing to make this kind of magic, the kind that makes grown men write “soft cunt” on their abs in the middle of a festival field and flash them on camera for all to see.
The sky is turning all colours of pink, purples and orange as smokey flares fill the air and 2000s pop-punk trailblazer Avril Lavigne takes to The Other Stage. The area is unbearably jam packed; it seems Glasto underestimated just how many want to see her perform.
She heads out onstage to Girlfriend, and even lads in football shirts are fiercely on board with shouting 'I’m the motherfucking princess'. It’s taken Avril 22 years to get to Worthy Farm, and the thousands of voices singing back to her prove just how much she has been missed. Many of those watching grew up with Avril, and we learned to be outrageous, authentic, mischievous, all from her discography. And as she is amid promoting her new Greatest Hits album, we're lucky enough to get all the classics: Don’t Tell Me, I’m With You, What The Hell, and obviously Sk8er Boi. Sadly, she is far more deserving of a Pyramid Stage set with more time.
This is Bob Vylan's second time at Glastonbury, and the Left Field tent is growing ever more sweaty, despite it growing dark outside, and the Bobs – aka the Fred Perry Mafia – are just as fired-up as always, despite running on two hours' sleep due to previous tour engagements.
What ensues is a concoction of shithousery and emotion – not because there are any teary speeches or other cliched onstage bravado, it’s emotional because Bobby is collecting notes and offerings thrown onto the stage and promising to look at them later, he's handing out water, he’s pulling a young child onto the stage and showing them the power of being a musician as fans chant their name in support, he’s making space for women and non-binary people at the front. This is the guy who felt nobody would believe in a punk band consisting of two Black men with no guitars. They deserve the reception they receive tonight.
Through a set that spans Hunger Games, We Live Here, Makes Me Violent and others, Bobbie keeps the beat on pulse to a tee. At the end of their time with us, after one last crowdsurf from Bobby, the pair stand together majestically as the lights in the tent lift, to share their thanks and soak up the love. Glastonbury 2024: completed it, mate.
