Glastonbury

 Glastonbury.

Glastonbury has to be one of the most culturally identifiable of all outdoor music festivals. It stands head and shoulders above the rest of them because it taps into all of those earthy emotions and passions that only music can bring out the best within the human soul. Music is something that Glastonbury has made its most traditional speciality, its centre of excellence and its most powerful expression of joy. 

This weekend Glastonbury celebrates its 55th anniversary and nobody will be more delighted than its founding member Michael Eavis with sterling and exemplary assistance from Emily, Eavis daughter. It is hard to remember a time when Glastonbury was ever overlooked and forgotten during the summer solstice. It is a stunning, striking event, quite the most surreal of all experiences at times and one of the most atmospheric of all music festivals when night falls, the stars gather in splendid unison both in the sky and on that famous stage and thousands of people huddle together in a kind of spiritual worship of legendary bands and celebrated singers. 

And so, in a small corner of rural and idyllically bucolic Somerset, a huge congregation of music aficionados will stand for hours on end, dancing incessantly, bopping up and down and embracing the whole occasion both lovingly and adoringly. They may have travelled from the other side of the world, just to feel and touch the positive vibes and simply entranced with everything around them. Everybody gets Glastonbury because it transcends all boundaries and frontiers. 

 And therein lies the essence and fascination of Glastonbury, its rich celebration of all genres of music, ranging across the spectrum from folk, heavy rock, soul, world music, rap, rhythm and blues, country and western, disco, garage, classical and trance music. There is something triumphantly traditional about Glastonbury, a moment in time during the year when all the setbacks and disappointments that many in the crowd may have had to negotiate during the last winter, finally disappear in some glorious vision of musical fulfilment and pleasure. Now the contrasting moods of Glastonbury take root again. 

There is of course a real sense of feverish anticipation about the farmlands and patchwork quilt scenery of Middle England. Glastonbury is wild, chaotic at times, restless and always animated. It looks quite  obviously cramped and claustrophobic when the fans at the back of the field become sandwiched in between those who may be pushing and jostling for space. At times Glastonbury resembles some mesmeric tidal wave of humankind, sweeping forward in one motion and then subsiding in one ecstatic show of idolatry and worship. 

There are the teenage and 20 something girls perched always precariously on their boyfriends shoulders, bouncing up and down, oblivious to fear and danger. We somehow look forward to seeing forests of brightly coloured flags and banners representing every political movement of the day or people just happy to be there. The national flags of the world have now become commonplace at Glastonbury. It is a huge outpouring of harmony, delirious happiness, hands and arms stretching into the Somerset sky as if at complete ease with both themselves and the rest of the world.

This year the legendary voices will be united over the weekend. Glastonbury does love both its nostalgia and reminiscence, the present day Spotify chart toppers, the modern, and of course, its timeless eccentricity. We now set eyes on the acts who used to pull at our heart strings with just a touch of the bizarre and bohemian. Then on Sunday night when Glastonbury gets all soppy and sentimental, the maestros and and lovable rogues take to the stage. 

At roughly tea time on Sunday evening, when most of the picnic hampers have been deposited in the grass, Glastonbury will settle down and acknowledge the timeless genius of Rod Stewart or Sir Rod Stewart. For almost five decades, Sir Rod Stewart has been at the top of his game, affectionately regarded as a pop maverick but also a genuine rock star of monumental proportions.  The Stewart back catalogue of memorable lyrics and eminently hummable and listenable singles and albums have never really been out of the pop music charts.

From Maggie May to Sailing which seemed to remain at number one for the duration of summer 1976, The First Cut is the Deepest, right up to those glamorous 1980s anthems ranging from Do You Think I'm Sexy? to Baby Jane, Rod Stewart is Britain's national treasure. He's mischievous and mercurial, unashamedly flamboyant when the mood takes him and just the ultimate showbiz performer. It seems that Stewart has accompanied us through childhood and right up to those awkward years of adolescence when puberty and teenage angst just carried us through effortlessly to the beautiful present day. 

There's Billy Bragg, Nile Rodgers and Chic and that other tireless 1960s hippie and smooth operator Neil Young who meant so much to so many people during the Swinging era. Young survived that turbulent period for music when a potent cocktail of hallucinogenic drugs, excessive alcohol, ruinous gallons of booze and endless nights of revelry and celebration literally seemed to last for ever.  

But when the final, screeching, screaming, electric guitars echo round Worthy Farm and the music of a thousand colours fade romantically into the night sky of a million summer stars, we shall raise a toast to Glastonbury. We shall remember why summer nights in the middle of Somerset touched our hearts and sweetened our sensibilities. It is music that taps deep into musical diversity with explosive chords, startling key changes and intriguing layers of sound. It is music with silky textures and permanently profound meanings, teasing ironies and controversial themes. Glastonbury always gets it right and always ticks the right boxes. Long may it last.