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Glastonbury 2014: The Lone Ranger's final day
This live event has finished
- Country queen Dolly Parton heads to Pyramid Stage
- Kasabian set to blast away naysayers as Glastonbury's closing act
- Elsewhere: Ed Sheeran, Bombay Bicycle Club, London Grammar
- Follow The Lone Ranger Blog here
- Weather: sunny and cloudy
AND finally, a video of Darren Hodge playing backstage at West Holts on Saturday night:
And it's good night from me...
Click the arrow to see my view of Dolly belting out 'I Will Always Love You', to conclude her set on Sunday afternoon.
That carboard contraption, by the way, was, I think, a handmade periscope.
VOLUNTEERS Barry Hill and Jake Johnson (excellent name) merrily obliged to a photograph as I was heading out towards the Wicket Gate for the last time:
They are two of 45 volunteers involved with fundraising for Bishops Henderson Primary School in Coleford, which is one of the Somerset causes championed by Michael Eavis.
The pupils fashioned the design you can see on the volunteers' on-site caravan:
THE tent on the nearest corner to the clamour of the Glasto-core.
(Which is hardcore.)
RIGHT, there's no buts about it: I hit a big old Glastonbury brick wall.
Five days of relentless weathering, walking miles and miles and miles (on reflection, a pedometer could've been an interesting investment), and being constantly wired, bombarded from all sides by sights and sounds, the demands and tricks of the new, and the company of tens of thousands of other people...
I'd begun to feel dreamy during Dolly. Then it became clearer and clearer, in the thick of the glacial exodus of festivalites from The Pyramid Stage, that I was never going to be able to leg it to Yoko Ono and St Vincent in time at the opposite end of the site.
I took stock and called it a day, sorry though I am to miss Kasabian's gleeful carnage as the festival's closer in the flesh. Rolled up my muddied tent and headed home, to be greeted by my housemate who reliably informed me I smelt "campy".
And so I should!
What a priviledge, and upheaval to my brain, these five days of boggy creative fire have been.
It is, you know, Glastonbury. It's another world...
OH My Dolly - what a show!
The unrivalled rhinestone queen of country had us hoeing down, shouting back, yearning, teary and tearing up the ground, hanging onto the artful spin of her yarn with which she wove her songs together...
"Howdy, how ARE you!?" She cried. "My goodness you ARE rowdy, and you're looking good too!"
Dripping in sparkle, shimmering in her white-silver jump suit, she's a pro, pure and simple.
And what's more, you believe and root for the girl that's done, very, VERY good, when she harks back to the rag coat her "Momma" made her as one of 12 in Tennessee, and the greedy ol' "big man" who has her slavin' 9 To 5 and shattering her dreams.
The press tent is roasting, and Dolly's on in *checks time* twenty. It's still just too good to be true... but then truth is gloriously stranger than fiction at Glasto.
(I'm out of cliches for now, be thankful.)
Just to illustrate the mission of manoeuvring this afternoon:
A daringly brave choice for Glastmudbury, and they knew how to strike a pose:
If there isn't already a genre called 'future superheroes rock', then a) I've just created it, so apologies, and b) Lonely The Brave from Cambridge fall into that category.
NME has declared that the band are destined for big things, whether they like it or not.
Theirs is an anthemic rock, sung by a frontman who prefers to take his mic from the stand and sing, eyes closed and trance-like, about eight feet away from it, in the heart of the stage, while his lead guitarist mimes on in the foreground.
The group looked genuinely moved at completing their Glastonbury set as they walked reluctantly off stage.
This man drew the biggest crowd of the day so far at John Peel.
I give you, George Ezra.
Two or three months ago I had one of those moments. George Ezra appeared solo on Later... with Jools Holland, holding this guitar and issuing a deep, deep, boom voice of soul; completely unexpected.
Was this the biggest moment of this rootsy, county-blues artist's career to date, securing a John Peel slot at Glastonbury? If not, it can't be far off.
I spied him hanging in the wings, sunglasses on, bouncing along to I Got A Woman by Ray Charles in the warm-up to his set.
As did the two waif-like girls behind me, who shouted "Georgey!" At sporadic moments, curling their tresses round their fingers. Later, I would hear them covet his rich chocolate way of speaking too, as well as his singing voice.
Ezra is still so young, a baby of 1993, but that voice... I tell you, it's one of those that shoots through you.
Beaming, he tells the crowd: "When I found out I was playing the John Peel Tent, I was a very happy bunny.
"Mainly because I thought it was going to rain so everyone would come in.
"But the sun's shining and you're still here!"
Later, he added: "Tomorrow is Monday", to groans from the crowd, who thought he was cruelly reminding us.
But not so - Ezra's first album comes out tomorrow. "And I always thought it would sound good at a festival..."
#MUST watch: YouTube 'Budapest' on Later
The Preachers, doused in the electric blue of the John Peel Stage.
The energy and set of this melodic Aussie rock group has been likened to Pink Floyd in calibre.
I feel as if I've been sprinkled with some of that magic Peel dust: right at the front, never before seen/heard this female-fronted indie-rock outfit, and I've got that excitement you only get from finding something new, fizzing in my nerves:
That there behind specialist security man extraordinaire, Darren Campbell?
Tourbuses, parked up behind the Pyramid Stage.
"It's an all right job," says Darren.
"I was talking to Ed Sheeran the other day; some of the boys have talked to Paolo Nutini and Lily Allen."
I bet it must be a pain constantly having to stop people from harassing all the artists? I ask.
Darren rolled his eyes, conveying more in that one flicker than words ever could.
Clearly weary and a little frustrated at clearing litter for 6 hours in this clay (but still smiling) as part of the litter picking army, Martin Curtis from Chepstow reckons rubbish at Glasto has improved since he helped out last year.
(He's an engineer by trade)
"On Saturday there was obviously more to pick up, and the ground was a lot squishier.
"Interestingly we seem to have found less litter in the big open areas; I think people are obviously using the bins more.
"The Pyramid Stage is still just a disaster, but here in Silverhayes, they seem to be using the bins more - I think the message is starting to come through."
44 years late is better than never, eh...
You've got to feel for them, haven't you? I mean, that's bad.
Drying out it may be, but the mudsite is a mudslide, clogging and sticky underfoot.
Honestly, you could throw it on a turntable and craft pots with it.
Blessed are the wood chippers, for they make our passage round Glastonbury fields a surer one:
I'm off now to see what's what, so as ever, I'll see you when I see you.
A picture of Taunton's Darren Hodge in 'the zone' finger-picking folk and blues backstage at West Holts last night.
A crowd-funding project is underway to get a music video of Darren's performance properly produced.
You can give your support by clicking here.
Worthy Farm trawls in tractor-loads of wood chips to make the quagmire easier to tread.
Certainly stops me holding my breath every time I start sludging out across the mud:
MORNING all. I've been awake since 4.45am, thanks to a brass band-style hello from a gaggle giving 'Consider Yourself' from Oliver! some welly, and a loud dissection of the day's events and dinner party etiquette from the tent next door.
All backed by the rasp of hundreds of crows, or what sounded like.
But shh, there's something looks like sunshine forming... don't speak too loudly, you might frighten it.
Today's music offering is an awesome bag to my mind.
George Ezra, who I like to liken to a young, male, lighter Nina Simone (Bristolian?), is on the John Peel Stage at 1.50pm.
St Vincent, another musical obsession of mine, and like a quirky female Dave Byrne, is on at The Park after Yoko Ono.
Oh, and there's Dolly! Which I still can't get my head around. It's a surreal and sublime thing.
Now to the weather. I doubletook reading the Met Office forecast: sun and cloud all day...
...And NO RAIN.
I might still take my tent-coat just in case.
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