GLASTONBURY FESTIVAL REVIEW

ARMCHAIR GLASTO 2014

As my 2013 appraisal of the mud and music fest at Worthy Farm was a hit with blog readers, for the second year running I turn my attention to the festival as brought to us by the BBC.

Kasabian: The missing link between Led Zeppelin and The Prodigy.
(Image: BBC)

A different scenario to last year: I'm working again and attended a friend's engagement party on Saturday night, so I didn't get a chance to do as comprehensive a review of the TV coverage as I’d have liked. Never mind: here are my thoughts gathered together from what I did manage to catch over the three days.

Friday 27 June

Lily Allen The currently red-haired popstrel is a fine singer/songwriter, but in this festival set she was trying very hard to make it look like she wasn't trying very hard.

Elbow. As ever, great songs about getting up. The perfect Glastonbury band.

Paolo Nuttini Not my kind of thing, but a passionate singer with a sound expanded by a very professional band with a festival friendly groove. Extra points for the retro 1960s psychedelic graphics.

On Friday night, the bands had to finish early – mid-set in the case of Rudimental – because of a thunder storm. On Lauren Laverne's BBC Radio 6 the following morning, she revealed that Metallica, the heavy rock headline act on the Saturday night, had arrived in the middle of the thunder and lightning. I laughed out loud and announced to the cats, 'Of course! They couldn't have arrived any other way.' The cats were non-plussed.

Saturday 28 June

Robert Plant The man's a legend, of course, but the noodly, bluesy world music he was peddling on Saturday afternoon didn't hold my attention. Maybe playing a few songs that people recognised would have helped, Mr P. Looking at the audience, he was a big hit with all the upper middle class hippies with trust funds.

Sunday 29 June

Jonathan and Zedicki (BBC acoustic stage) More world music gubbins. All very worthy but it didn't do anything for me.

English National Ballet Of course it's commendable - and, I have to say it, very worthy for Worthy Farm - to perform a ballet on the main Pyramid Stage to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the First World War. That said, the ENB's display of repetitive choreography and repetitive music could have been about anything: there was no context to it so it didn't trigger any emotional reaction. Even the BBC cameraman seemed bored, cutting to a single long-shot of the stage at one point, presumably just to keep himself awake. I couldn't help thinking that the enthusiastic audience response that greeted the ENB dancers when their performance was over was simply borne out of relief that it was over. I also wondered if Mrs-Fairclough-in-waiting Lauren Laverne's comment that 'I had tears in my eyes watching that' was heavily charged with innuendo.

Nick Mulvey (BBC acoustic stage) Pleasant enough with clever word play.

Caro Emerald Perfect Sunday chill-out music, and one of those pleasant surprises that often happens at Glastonbury: discovering a great act that you'd never heard of before. Backed by an old-style big band cool enough to go on stage at a festival wearing matching suits and ties, singer Caro's gutsy, good-time mix of swing, bossa nova and ska was a hit with an instantly appreciative crowd, as was the lady herself – she's a natural at working an audience. Endearingly, Caro shed her 1950s-style high heels as they 'weren't comfortable at all', danced around barefoot and delivered a very witty song called 'Liquid Lunch.' One to watch. 

Ed Sheeran (BBC acoustic stage) Today's singer songwriter par excellence, who impresses by making grooving in a pair of wellies look cool. As my lodger succinctly put it, 'He's done alright for a ginger bloke.'

The 1975 A singer with a Prince falsetto backed by 1980s soft rock. I don't get it.

Paul Heaton and Jacqui Abbot (BBC acoustic stage) Reunited for a tour and album, these two ex-Beautiful Southers are fast emerging as this year's musical national treasures, i.e. people who you always knew were good but didn't really appreciate until they'd been away for a while. They perform 'Moulding of a Fool', which features typically scabrous Heaton lyrics such as 'The revolution won't be televised and neither will your death.' They also deliver an immaculate 'Islands in the Stream' as a tribute to Dolly Parton. Bless them.

Sam Smith More young people's music and someone I know absolutely nothing about; vocally and physically, he reminds me of an on-form Boy George. The little ones in the audience are all happily grooving away and, when not singing, Mr Smith appears nicely ordinary. Bizarrely, his guitarist can't resist breaking into Queen riffs every now and again. 

George Ezra Riveting, playing to a packed John Peel tent from an album that was still to be released. Only one song from his electric set, 'Did You Hear the Rain?', but he immediately makes an impression with a huge, deep, distinctive roar of a voice and a frenzied indie rock backing. Along with Caro Emerald an act I'd definitely go see. Later, he's equally good on an acoustic version of 'Budapest' for BBC3.

Dolly Parton What can you say? It's a sign of the Galstonbury collective's eclectic taste that it'll embrace the upbeat, if showbizzy, Country and Western of an American preacher's religious daughter with no irony, while cooler people pretend to like Parton's music purely for the kitsch value. Being a novelty act hasn't kept her around for over five decades and Dolly has both the tunes and the presence: fitted out with a head mic she's constantly moving, clapping, gesturing, talking. She's come to conquer and she's not mucking about but, winningly, this gal is constantly amazed at how popular she is with the crowd. Dolly's band are all in dignified Johnny Cash black, while she's dressed from head to toe in pearly white that matches her big bright smile.

It's the incidental details the camera catches that tell you this woman's a legend. The security guards at the front of the Pyramid Stage do a synchronised dance routine to 'Jolene' while in the audience, banners proclaim amusing slogans such as 'Dolly, Take Me to Your Bosom' and 'Ravin' 9 to 5.' Five o'clock on a sunny Sunday afternoon in June is the perfect time to hear 'Here You Come Again,' 'Islands in the Stream', 'I Will Always Love You' and other feel good fare. The icing on the C&W cake is Bon Jovi guitarist Richie Sambora coming on to dirty up a fantastic rock gospel version of 'Lay Your Hands On Me.' And in the most random moment of the weekend, Dolly performs The Benny Hill Show theme on a bejewelled saxophone. 'I know that was corny but it was fun' she says afterwards, making us love her forever.

The jury’s still out on whether or not she was miming, but even with BBC close-ups it was very hard to tell.

Foxes (BBC acoustic stage) Good looking, great voice, good tune, though - and I might have said this last year but it's still relevant - how many of these photogenic young singer/songwriters do we actually need? How about a bit of variation?

Ed Sheeran You have to admire a likeable, unassuming feller in his early twenties who can follow Dolly Parton on the Pyramid Stage and win over the crowd with nothing more than the amazing amount of energy he can wring from an acoustic guitar, an effects pedal and some impressive vocal gymnastics. That said, the constant call-and-response interplay gets a bit wearing, overshadowing his songs – apart from the second one, which from the sound of it is about his painful break up with Ellie Goulding. The stand-out.

The Kooks Apparently reinvented as an indie Sly and the Family Stone but really, what IS that man wearing? No.

Bombay Bicycle Club Not sure what to make of this lot. I'm always mixing them up with Two Door Cinema Club and to me the two sound very similar. They've had a number one album this year which is apparently their Parklife or American Idiot – i.e. the moment when they officially become An Important Band – but it's all a bit indie-lite for me. Vampire Weekend without the diverting African rhythms, if you will.

The Black Keys Call me old fashioned, but at last it's great to see a band with leather jackets, jeans, five o'clock shadow, a New Wavey logo that could have been designed in 1979 and, er, Eric Morecambe glasses. The Keys are a triumphant mix of scuzzy guitars and swampy blues and the third band on this year's bill that I'd definitely go and see. 'Gold on the Ceiling' inspires a musical riot.

Lana Del Rey I'm singer/songwritered out. Nice dress though.

Ellie Goulding Time for a trip to the Indian takeaway.

Arrive back to see the last few songs in a proficient, festival-friendly set of typical 2014 electro-pop from Ms Goulding and co, which I have to say I wasn't expecting. Thought her posh, breathy, Head Girl 'can't believe all you people are here to see me' act was a bit calculated, particularly as she was wearing next to nothing and knew how to shake her booty. Alright if you like that sort of thing.

Kasabian Headliners on the last night and the only one of the three headline acts – the others being Arcade Fire and Meatllica – that I managed to see anything of. They come out fighting, singer Tom Meighan dressed like James Bond in Diamonds are Forever as it he was played by a swaggering Danny Dyer. What Meighan lacks in vocal technique he makes up for in commitment, the perfect partner to Lee Van Cleef-alike songwriter and guitarist Sergio Pizzornio – he even sounds like a spaghetti western – in delivering the band’s anti-establishment anti-anthems.

The hits are all there – ‘Club Foot’, ‘Shoot the Runner’, ‘Fire’, ‘Underdog’ – and with a sound that’s the missing link between Led Zeppelin and the Prodigy, Kasabian are the perfect band to revive a nearly partied-out crowd. After a while it does get rather samey, true, but even if the band have only got one song, it’s a GOOD song. It also makes a stripped-back, semi-acoustic ‘Crazy’ one of the highlights.

Final thoughts? From what I saw it did seem if there was a more varied selection of acts last year, and over-subscription to the innocuous but bland singer/songwriter brigade grated; someone like Paloma Faith who’s got real personality and attitude was sadly missed.

All in all, though, there was enough to keep me interested and annoyed in equal measure.

See you in 2015.

FRIENDSHIP

FRIENDS UNITED

As Sir Freddy Mercury so memorably put it, 'friends will be friends, right to the end.' But maybe not on Facebook.

Like so many things, Freddy had this friends thing sussed. (Image: Queen)

I interviewed a film producer earlier in the year who told me a story that really started me thinking about the nature of friendship. He discovered that a good friend he'd known since the 1950s was dying of asbestosis, a horrible, painful illness. The friend didn't want to go into hospital, preferring to live out his remaining time at home, but, being single and not very well off, couldn't afford the specialist home care he'd need. Without hesitation, the film producer said he would move in and look after him. His friend took a year to die. True to his word, the producer stayed until the end.

I couldn't help thinking about such a moving and selfless act in the context of today's twenty-four hour, instant culture, where a quick look at Facebook shows you can have anything upwards of a five hundred 'friends'. Meet someone at a gig or at a job, say 'I'm on Facebook' and at the click of a keyboard key, you've got another chum. You don't even have to ask them about their likes, dislikes or personal background, as it's all laid out neatly for you; instant compatibility. It doesn't mean instant loyalty, though: when someone I know deleted his Facebook account, only two people out of the hundreds of FB friends he had got in touch by other means to ask if there was anything wrong.

He was an author, so I guess a lot of those people were just keen to say 'Hey, I'm FB friends with so-and-so' and leave it at that. Which is fine: FB is just a useful tool for starting in touch with a lot of people you've met, however briefly (and it's a particularly good way of staying in touch with old friends overseas). But it should be where friendships start or continue, not stay.

The film producer's story set me thinking about the essential people in my life who, as one of them once wittily put it, 'you'd call if you woke up next to a dead prostitute' (fortunately, that hasn't happened very often). I reckon it's maybe six. Doesn't sound like a lot, does it, in this digital age where you're dazzled with the prospect of hundreds and hundreds of virtual friends?

Which is why I was knocked out by my recent fiftieth birthday party. Rather than six people turning up, there were around fifty packed into the Walkers' bar and restaurant just off Whitehall.  There were friends I hadn't known long but felt like I'd known all my life; friends I hadn't seen for upwards of sixteen years, and seeing them again was like I'd seen them only yesterday; friends I don't see as often as I should who were still happy to come along. I should have spent longer talking to people but I was running around trying to give everyone some of my time. It was a great night and it’s the biggest cliché in the world, but the dear people there really were a case of quality not quantity. Five hundred Facebook friends? Doesn’t mean a thing, mate.

I don’t know if I’d have the strength to be as generous and supportive as my producer friend. I’d like to think so, but I've had some sad news this week which, if anything, has made me appreciate and value the people in my life even more. So, if you're thinking about putting off that phone call, email or text to a mate until tomorrow or next week - don't.

Get in touch now and tell them you love them. 

THE WALKING DEAD Series 1-3 review

THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE ZOMBIES

The apocalyptic adventure show The Walking Dead has the same vibe as the much-missed Terry Nation drama Survivors. Except with monsters that eat your brains

The original line-up of characters. (Image: AMC)

  

'People gotta do what they gotta do - or they die.'

I've never been a huge fan of zombie movies, with the exception of 24 Days Later. In that, the filmmakers made you believe that the shuffling, a-bit-comical creatures of earlier movies were a genuine threat: snarling, lethal, fast-moving killing machines. Then there was the sublime Shaun of the Dead, which sent up the shufflers of old by implying that because of hamster-in-a-wheel commuting, dead-end jobs and computer games, we were well on the way to becoming zombies anyway.

America's The Walking Dead series, based on the comic written by Robert Kirkman and produced by the impeccable AMC – Mad Men, Breaking Bad, Turn and the remake of The Prisoner. OK, so nobody's perfect – is a combination of the two. The old shufflers are back, but the focus is on the survivors and the struggle they have with retaining their humanity as the world around them becomes more and more savage. The implication is that if the post-apocalypse citizens give in to the doctrine of 'survival of the fittest', they're no better than the zombie plague that's devoured their world. In a handy metaphor for this, when characters die they're resurrected as the undead.  

The premise isn't exactly an original one, but The Walking Dead is so good I've avidly watched all of the first three series over the last few weeks. It starts with sheriff’s deputy Rick Grimes (Brit Andrew Lincoln, doing a highly convincing US accent) waking up in a hospital in a deserted landscape (referencing 28 Days Later, which borrowed from Survivors which borrowed from The Day of the Triffids) and discovering what's happened. The first series revolves around Rick's quest to find his wife Lori (Sarah Wayne Callies) and son Carl (Chandler Riggs) and, once he's found them, keep them alive. It isn't long before he's amassed a surrogate extended family, including his best friend Shane (Jon Bernthal). This situation has 'it's complicated' written all over it, as he and Lori became emotionally involved when they thought Rick was dead.

'D'ya feel lucky, punk?' (Image: AMC)

From here on, the similarities and differences with the same initial format as Survivors – after a devastating global plague, a motley band of miss-matched refugees search for a home – are fascinating to watch. The 1970s show was famously ridiculed for presenting a viral outbreak that wiped out the working class and everyone with regional accents, apart from a hippy who looked like David Essex and a Welsh tramp. There is more of a balance in The Walking Dead. Characters like the white trash, and possibly white supremacist, Darryl (the coolly taciturn Norman Reedus) and his thuggish brother Merle (Michael Rooker, in a swaggering the-man-you-love-to-hate performance) are centre-stage with Rick and Shane, rather than just being a grudging concession to change or comic relief.

Although it was hidden by the English countryside and the sensible outdoor wear of the main cast, Nation initially had a British Western in mind, with territorial wars fought on horseback in the shires. Due to that old chestnut 'creative differences', this idea never really took off in Survivors, but as the mythical 'Wild West' is ingrained in American popular culture, in The Walking Dead it's there from the start. Halfway through the first episode Rick has saddled up, and, in one of the series' most striking images, trots down a deserted highway towards a zombie-infested Atlanta - complete with stetson - for all the world like a sheriff come to clean up the town. Someone even sarcastically tells him that, acknowledging the iconography while neatly undercutting it.

The idea that a new, brutal world is like the Old West can be found everywhere in apocalypse fiction, from The Omega Man to the Mad Max films. However, with the increased scope for character development that a television series affords, The Walking Dead makes something fresh out of well-worn clichés. Rather than looking forward to the next ruck with the 'walkers'/'biters'/'shufflers' or gun fight, you keep watching because you become so hooked on how the characters are developing; by the end of the third series, those left alive from the first are almost unrecognisable. That's the other must-see aspect of the series: you really don't know who's going to die next. Survivors tried for the same Russian roulette approach to its cast, but on the whole it was arbitrary and sometimes annoyingly off-hand. Here, everyone gets a shockingly effective death scene, made more dramatic because of how much you've become invested in their progression as a character.

Whatever you do, don't trust this man. (Image: AMC)

Things really pick up in the third series with the debut of the town of Woodbury run by another imported British actor, David Morrissey ('The Governor') and when Rick and his tribe take over an old prison. Without giving too much away, the series becomes even more metaphorical, setting a harsh institution where decent people live against an apparently idyllic community built on corruption. It doesn't sound too subtle when you put it like that - the series is adapted from a comic, after all - but the scenario is written and performed so well you don't notice the perhaps over-ripe symbolism. In a major plus, Morrissey is astonishing as an all too plausible, charming megalomaniac. One of the best moments in the series is the episode which revolves around the Governor and Rick trying to broker detente between the two groups. It centres on two great actors talking and it's totally mesmerising. 

I like to think Terry Nation would have enjoyed the 21st century expression of his ideas. While the ecological disaster in The Walking Dead is more grand guignol than the earnest back-to-nature theme of his own series, Nation was also a fan of American cinema – as his interest in doing an eco-Western showed – and I think he would have relished the bikers-with-crossbows, sheriff-against-monsters, wagon-train-under-siege style of AMC's hit show. If the direction and cinematography aren't as obviously stylish as Mad Men or Breaking Bad, there's a reason for that. This is a brutal world and, somehow, the no-frills style makes the horrible things that happen there even more shocking.

If you haven't already, give The Walking Dead a chance. It really is something to get your teeth into.

http://www.amctv.com/shows/the-walking-dead