Glastonbury is here and I haven't go a ticket (despite a 47hr long dark night of the telephone)... to make things worse the bastards are congregating outside my house to get the free buses with their stick on mud patches, grime already painted on with kohl, beards drawn in with biro...
Yep! It's time to start bitching and prayin' for rain. All together now...
I've never been one of those people who see Glastonbury Festival (they added of Contemporary Performing Arts in 1990 in an attempt to get the school teachers to raid the educational trip budget) as a gathering of the tribes. It's a place for all the fucked up losers who think they’re not fucked up losers to hang out. A place they can call home. A kind of Star Trek convention for people without televisions.
Anyway as far as I know Faun Fables aren't playing this year but they remind me of the kind of band who appear, mysteriously in the Field of Queasy Listening or the Pyramid of Lutes and Love at 5 a.m. singing songs about Pan and Albion and nymphs and so on.
Play Fear March whilst sitting in your garden and battling off small boys getting aboriginal by blowing into lengths of guttering and you'll get the idea...
then play..
Black Box Recorder- Art of Driving because...well see my previous post on this band...
then
Piano Music - The Canadian Brought Us Snow because they sound like they ought to be playing there and probably won't ever get asked
and finish off with
Electric Birds - Parallelogram
Electric Birds - Flotilla because it's always nice to imagine this kind of abstracted multi-layer floatiness is what you'll hear at Glastonbury even though what you really here is 50 essex lads dancing outside Joe Banana's Blanket stall to Mad-fast techno mentalism...
It's a shop guys. Not a club. A shop . Do you feel the need to dance round Dorothy Perkins or Tescos?
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6 comments:
Your blog ads have started appearing in French - tres chic
Not just bitter you couldn't get a ticket then?
y the way I meant that as a cheeky jib but couldn't bring myself to use one of those smilie punctuation things. I got v sore feet, there was a crap line up bar a few gleaming performances, believe me you didn't miss much. No Joe Bananas (!?) but the Essex boys were still largin it outside the shops, why i ask you why?
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