Jamie Tabberer

Glastonbury 2011: Part One

"Ladies, put your hand in his face and say..."

Yes, we know, we're a bit slow off the mark here.

Glastonbury climaxed a whole THREE DAYS ago. That's what, three years in pop culture terms. We've all of us moved on, attentions focussed on far more important things, like Cheryl's latest foray into fake hair. (She's reentered blonde territory. Oooh. Big whoop. Albeit still a more entertaining PR move than this time last year when she emerged from hiding and bought a Starbucks to redtop fanfare: "SHE'S ALREET, PET!" ran one headline, "WOMAN BUYS COFFEE!" ran another.)

We digress. Basically we're sorry that we couldn't get this to you sooner (mind you, it wrapped up recently enough that our sunburn's still smarting and there's still mud on our nether-regions) but come with us now, on a journey through time and space, as we look back on the best bits of a truly magical weekend.



Another brief tangent: this new Spotify rule that you can only listen to a song five times before having to pay for it is really starting to get our backs up. Bills, Bills, Bills, Say My Name and Jumpin' Jumpin' - hands up if you've reached your limit on all of these long forgotten classics? Hands up if your physical copies of The Writing's On The Wall and Survivor, all cracked plastic and caked in dust, are lurking in the deepest darkest corners of your familial home's attic alongside your POG collection?

Worry not, for Destiny's Child's full back catalogue can be streamed online. Naturally. Every last song. Including, crucially, the killer ballad Bouncy and co recorded with Corrie star Matthew Marsden in the late 90s.

Oh, how we adore a trip down memory lane.

Bit of a shame on the special guest front: no Kelly, no Michelle, obviously Gaga was never going to happen, or Shakira; but Jay Z wasn't up to much besides standing by looking sour, surely he could have hopped on the stage during Crazy In Love? Actually, no, we're glad he didn't because the rendition as it stands was pretty much perfect. GT was four rows back and we can confirm that it was probably the best entrance to a set we've ever witnessed, and well worth enduring the old school mosh-pits of Pendulum (they were on before her, and were quite good we might add, although the many baby gays who started crying when it got really aggressive might disagree).

But it was just incredible. Music history. Providing we gloss over her incessant mispronunciation of Glastonbury ("YOO READAH GLASTONBERRY?!"). It's not a fruit, love. Her rendition of Happy Birthday to a guy named Steve was also very dodge (the audience trying and failing to sing along with her random warbling was hysterical). Lastly, what was that rather uncomfortable Trippy appearance about?

She's not perfect, and she never, ever, EVER reaches out to her gays fans and that fucks us off, but regardless, Bouncy, we love you. The album's blatantly going to storm the charts in the UK (looking a bit shaky across the pond though...perhaps that Destiny's Child reunion is still on the cards after all); to buy your copy of her fourth studio album, uncannily titled 4 click here, failing that download the tragically overlooked single Run The World (Girls) here. WHO RUN THIS MUTHA?!


Night owls are well catered for all over the site, and Shangri La is a bit good, but every self-respecting gay owed it to himself to swing by late night destination Block 9. There was unbeatable performance art aplenty (at one point we were accosted by a supposedly pregnant prostitute) and of course, who could forget the fabulous traveling gay disco NYC Downlow.

It's a bitch to get into because it's so popular but well worth the battle. Drunken hot boys stalked the dark, hazy corridors; friendly trannies double up as security guards; topless women seized the stage alongside lycra-clad bears and Speedo wearing twinks - a feast for the eyes and a guaranteed good time even if you're sober and standing completely still, albeit with your jaw fallen to the floor.

NYC Downlow's next London stop off will be at the loosely themed 'gay day' (Scissor Sisters? Robyn? C'mon) at Lovebox. That's the Sunday by the way. Tickets available here.


FABOOSH. The Park Stage was too big for James Blake's miserable set, and too small for Radiohead's similarly miserable set, but for the absolutely fucking gorgeous Beasts, it was just perfect. An eerie, affecting performance. Here is our favourite Wild Beasts song.

Part Two's here.

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