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That's everything for tonight
Thanks for joining us for an epic Friday that brought two of the biggest crowds the festival has ever seen – Foo Fighters filling the Pyramid and Fred Again the Other stage – as well as a ton of other gems from Star Feminine Band right through to Warpaint and Wizkid. Tomorrow’s coverage will cover sets from Lana Del Rey to Lizzo, Central Cee to Mel C – and of course a headline set from Guns N’ Roses. See you for more liveblog shenanigans from noon on Saturday!
Kelis review
Laura Snapes
The bizarre start of Kelis’s set turns out to be one of the most reliable things about it. She plays a series of anonymous house bangers that could be made by anyone: you’re left wondering where one of the most vituperative pop stars of this century is among the bland empowerment of songs such as Brave, when surely the visceral bloodletting of songs such as Caught Out Here are far more real, and affirming for anyone in the throes of sadness and/or revenge.
When she finally starts playing Caught Out Here, three tracks in, followed by others from her brilliantly wild early-2000s heyday, its spikiness is a true tonic. And yet she cuts off her peak-period songs at the knees by playing them in a monstrously frustrating series of medleys. Just as the itchy brilliance of Millionaire gets going, it’s over; same too for Good Stuff, a welcome blast of filth, and Got Your Money. She plays them in such a rush that it seems more as though she’s scratching for time, not a main stage headliner. And yet far more boring recent songs get a full airing (also: no Jerk Ribs). Trick Me is the rare exception, its reggae undertones amplified and made brilliant by her live band, who fluctuate in and out of use, and it is heard, thank god, in full.
The end of the set is pure chaos. There’s a flash of Riton’s Rinse & Repeat, then a rendition of Milkshake over Wu-Tang Clan’s Gravel Pit, then a bit of Smells Like Teen Spirit that swiftly undergoes a donk remix. One man near me yells “I just don’t understand what’s going on”, another in a separate group exclaims: “I just can’t explain it!” It’s a truly unpredictable set, and not in a pleasurable way. When she winds up back in the tedious house territory where she started, it feels unfortunately like relief.
Josh Halliday
Long-time Arctic Monkeys fan Ian Scott, 58, was in front of the Pyramid to see the band with his daughter Jade, 31, and son, Angus, 21.
Ian thought they were technically great and conceded it was difficult to assess them fairly by the sound stages, but added: “The old stuff - everyone loved it. I don’t mind some of the slower stuff but when it’s live it’s different.”
Jade added: “It makes it harder to sing with him.”
Angus thought the staging was “brilliant” and they were “really tight” but said: “They have lost a lot of love with the last two albums – they’re totally different albums.”
That seemed to be the general feeling around me: this was a band in their prime, technically, but perhaps for those hoping for an uptempo headline show akin to their last Pyramid headline set a decade ago, this felt too low-key.
Wizkid review
Ammar Kalia
There’s a chill in the air as the cloudless day gives way to night and Wizkid takes to the Other Stage for his headline set on Friday. The Afropop star’s small but committed crowd need not worry about the elements for long though, as his 75-minute set is packed with enough pyrotechnics and hip-swaying hits to get even the most hardened revellers sweating.
As one of Nigeria’s bestselling artists of all time, Wizkid strolls out to a range of shoutout accolades from his DJ: “Starboy number one”, “Africa’s number one”, “Grammy-winner”. Then he delivers a pre-packaged, arena-ready show that tallies with the hyperbole. As he prowls, hood-up, he is backed by an eight-piece band and horn section, floor-to-ceiling screens, grand staircase, and the biggest diamond ring I have ever seen, forever gripping his microphone.
The hits pour forth: Energy, Ginger, Come Closer, My Way – the list goes on, though with none of the A-list feature artists. Yet it’s anyone’s guess as to how much Wizkid is doing behind that mic, since his vocals are heavily Auto-Tuned and there are several moments when he pulls it away from his face as the lead melody carries on, indistinguishable from before.
Still, the crowd – one of the most diverse of the festival so far - keeps dancing, holding out for one of those features to materialise. Sadly, we’re left with backing track. Closing number Body, which is Wizkid’s biggest hit to date and features singer Tems, only fires a confetti cannon over her pre-recorded vocal – a little sparkle to add to the sheen of the show.
There are enough bright lights, shooting flames and tight, earworming instrumentation here to keep an audience entertained but as far as headline sets go, Wizkid’s feels like more of a polished commercial for his craft than the raw, real thing.
Chemical Brothers review
I forgot to mention in that epic five-way clash earlier that a plucky little dance music duo called the Chemical Brothers were also playing at the same time! Just DJing, but still. Elle was there: “Last year at Arcadia it was impossible to get anywhere near Calvin Harris’s headline set – there’s not so packed a crowd for the Chemical Brothers at the same stage at peak hours on Friday night, but the space to dance suits their fast-paced, fluid, confident set. There are no hits tonight, or even much by the way of lyrics, but a lot of easily danceable, big-tent bangers from a pair of consummate but never safe professionals.”
For balance, this kind of “banter” does seem to be resonating on social media re Arctic Monkeys’ headline set. Not in my name.
They’re now charging through the closing sections of R U Mine?, to which even the most Turner-resistant wag will probably be doing some pogoing around.
Arctics open their encore with I Wanna Be Yours, which I find just such a brilliant bit of culture jamming – this John Cooper Clarke poem becoming one of the most popular pieces of British verse ever via the Monkeys crooner treatment. I spoke to John about this bizarre state of affairs earlier this year, as it crossed a billion streams on Spotify:
From Josh at Monkeys: “Mirrorball into 505 was a brilliant little segue that got most people moving near me. Then we’re back into slow-bopping solemn appreciation for a croonerish Body Paint, which lifts at the end. That said, some people around me aren’t satisfied. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, Sir Paul McCartney,’ shouts one man, referring to the hit-heavy – but also rather long – set by the Beatles man last year.”
Not sure where they’re up to in real life, but Hot Chip are in strident form doing Hungry Child on the iPlayer stream, bolstered by Valentina Pappalardo on backing vox, all Promised Land pianos and Belfast synth widdles. And then into Over and Over. Most reliable party band in a generation – nay, two generations now.
Kelis has brought Laura back to the yard with a milkshake of completely insane sonic ingredients. “OK Kelis did Milkshake over Gravel Pit and then segues into Smells Like Teen Spirit then a donk remix. And now I Feel Love. A man just yelled ‘I can’t understand what’s going on’. Another yelled ‘I can’t explain it’.”
Arctic Monkeys have just done the drop on 505 – there’s a lot of turf getting throughly stamped upon right now.
There Must Be a Mirrorball now from Arctic Monkeys, another utterly perfect ballad but hardly likely to get the blood rushing among the neutrals. I’m actually very pleased to see them get so emphatically behind three of their best recent songs – this, Sculptures of Anything Goes and Perfect Sense – by including them in a Pyramid stage set, even if their pace will annoy the Dark Fruits crew.
The Fomo is flowing as an only-at-Glasto clash takes place: Arctic Monkeys vs Kelis vs Wizkid vs Hot Chip vs Fever Ray. Keza is at the latter: “Genderfluid Swede Fever Ray is bringing the weird woozy electro funk up at Park, with a keyboardist who appears to be wearing a dressing gown and a cloud for a hat.” That sounds positively normcore in the world of Fever Ray tbh.
Any sofa-bound Glasto watchers in need of context and fashion tips to frighten your neighbourhood’s children away from your house can catch up with our cover feature with Fever Ray’s Karin Dreijer earlier this year:
From our man Josh in the Monkeys crowd: “Someone just shouted ‘Where are the ChurnUps?!’ and another yelled: ‘Get em out!’ I think this is slightly underwhelming the crowd where I am, just to the left of the sound system.” They probably weren’t that whelmed by Perfect Sense just now, probably the slowest moment in the whole set but for my money one of the band’s loveliest ballads. They’ve switched up into Do I Wanna Know? now though, so any fairweather fans will be placated…
Cate Blanchett dancing at Sparks appreciation post
Sparks reviewed
Gwilym Mumford
It’s been quite the few years for the brothers Mael, between a rapturously received Edgar Wright documentary, a Top 10 album and now the biggest tour of their career. What better way to cap it than with a Glastonbury performance, their first ever? Well, how about a Glastonbury performance that starts with actual Cate Blanchett doing some interpretive dance?
Blanchett’s turn – reprising her performance in the video for The Girl is Crying in Her Latte, in the same yellow pant suit and red headphones – is electrifying: a Hollywood A-lister throwing shapes in the middle of a field in Somerset. But it also comes with a bit of danger: could the rest of the set be a little anticlimactic?
Not at all. Sparks are canny, experienced performers who know how to perfectly pace a set. So there’s a smattering of old – Angst in My Pants and, naturally, This Town Ain’t Big Enough For the Both of Us, still as bracing and bizarre as the first time you heard it – and new. And there’s the trademark interplay between Russell – bouncing around like a Labrador – and Ron – stern-faced and virtually motionless, except for a fantastic dance routine midway through The Number One Song in Heaven.
Things wrap up with All That, a new song that has the feel of an oldie, and after Russell has to literally shove the reluctant Ron into the spotlight to take a deserved round of applause, they gather for a picture. Blanchett is back out and so is Wright, on photo-taking duties. Russell looks ecstatic, even Ron cracks a smile. There have been worst Glastonbury debuts, that’s for sure.
Pics of Arctic Monkeys performing
Our photographer Jonny Weeks was just in the pit for Arctic Monkeys and ferried these back.
Laura not feeling it at Kelis. The phrase “terminally plodding” has just been dropped in the group chat. “She’s really selling herself short with too many medleys/blends, killing the momentum. Some songs barely last a minute. There’s a greatest hits set in here bursting to get out.” Waaah!
Meanwhile Wizkid is now headlining the Other stage, with a gorgeously warm full-band sound including some shamelessly corny sax (the best kind). Ammar is there for us and says the crowd is relatively small – certainly in comparison with the preceding Fred Again – but easily the most diverse, and he’s warming everyone nicely. Certainly sounding in very fine voice on my headphones in our portacabin.
Cornerstone gets a lovely new arrangement for this Monkeys tour, all slowed down and mooching around – and, contrary to some grumbling fans, the slowed down versions of Mardy Bum and other are really winning, too. There’s also been gripes about Turner not delivering the vocals exactly as he does on record, to which I say: I really hope you never hear about this music called “jazz” because you’re going to absolutely freak out.
Up next is Why Do You Only Call Me When You’re High, one of the many Monkeys songs to go massive on TikTok and pop back into the lower reaches of the charts for a spell. We’re due another one, to be honest.
English (US)