A Field Full of Shit.

Since I last posted something all kinds of rubbish things have happened and I’m afraid that’s all we have to sift through for news – a big smouldering pile of rubbish that no-one wants to admit to and no-one wants to clean up. And I think that’s a bit of a shame. I’m also getting into the ‘heavily overdue’ stage for my next journalism assignment so here’s me slapping Vaseline on my creative paddle. Oh what the hell, let’s have a Glastonbury review before it’s too late.

Glastonbury, or Glasto as millions of twats call it (including an ex but she loved Nirvana so she didn’t get to have an opinion about music) is as close to my idea of ‘hell that you have to pay for’ as you can get. I’m happy to watch it on TV as that means you can filter out the crap (including the garrotte-able presenters) but then you’re left with the sensation that maybe you might be missing out after all. Future Islands and Father John Misty (my favourite person ever at the moment) and Radiohead and Katy Perry (yes Katy Perry) and even Biffy Clyro all made me slightly moist but then they were offset by an overwhelming barrage of bland, bollocks or just bloody dreadful. Where else could you be sucked into an artistic vortex towards a taste coma more quickly than in a huge crowd of wankers with flags, watching this top 10 of dog-dirt Glasto, barrel scraping clap-trap?

1. George Ezra. Sorry, I know he’s probably a nice chap but nice chaps don’t always get it right. Alas, he’s already used his one good song token. Trouble us no more George.

2. The Kaiser Chiefs. Be honest, when did you last actively and consciously choose to listen to the Kaiser Chiefs? Worryingly over-groomed Ricky Wilson is a disgrace to the music industry, even more so to rock and roll, and a polished turd of the lowest order. His success actually makes me believe that anyone can make something of themselves if they try. Provided enough people are sufficiently deaf and stupid to pay for their success.

3. The Foo Fighters. I just don’t get them. Big bag of noise. I bet Dave Grohl is exactly as nice as people say he is and I have a lot of time for him (lucky Dave!), but The Foo Fighters are a band I find hard to love or admire or even appreciate (not so lucky Dave). Only when ‘Monkey Wrench’ got wheeled out did I recognise a tune, and they released that 20 years ago. Some say things like “wow man, Dave Grohl, what a legend, he’s been in, like, 2 of the best bands ever”. No man, Dave Grohl, he’s been in, like, none of the best bands ever.

4. Paul Carrack. Ah yes, the voice of Ace and Mike and the Mechanics. Rock n fuckin’ roll. To his pensioner fans he’s creamy, smooth, soulful and capable of singing a pair of knickers off. In reality Paul Carrack and his music requires us to suspend belief and imagine a new level of boring that makes magnolia look like an acid drenched kaleidoscope. Having his latest record playing on loop whilst slipping into a state of ‘locked in syndrome’ is up there with drowning in vomit and setting yourself on fire. The opposite of entertainment. Probably a lovely chap though.

5. Jeremy Corbyn. Think what you like about him but I suspect that in a few years’ time when/if he sends this country spiralling even further towards the wrong end of fuckery there’ll be an awful lot of people who regret thinking that giving him a 10 minute slot at Glastonbury was a good idea. You have to be a real master to make music and politics work together. There were no masters involved in this moment. Probably a lovely Communist though.

6. Corrine Bailey Rae. Is she still going? Like being punched by a fairy. Oh God, I’ve just started to imagine a duet between her and Paul Carrack and I want to scratch my brain in half. Such an apex of nothingness would make the universe eat itself.

7. A bible’s worth of stupid names:
BOOM SOUND TAKEOVER FT KREED, GARDNA, FLECK, MUNGOS HIFI, JFB, NATTY CAMPBELL, ASBO DISCO & FAT STASH (what? ps – all one set). BEZ’S FLYING BUS (it doesn’t though, does it). FLEETMAC WOOD (sweet Jesus, that’s lazy). DAN BEAUMONT (the least rock n roll name ever?). FUNKINGHAM PALACE FOOTMAN (doesn’t really work). GUTTERFUNK CLOSING PARTY WITH DJ DIE, DOC SCOTT (HISTORY SET), DISMANTLE, KHANAGE + HOSTED BY INJA & SP:MC (again: what? again: all one set). PHIL TAGGART (my mistake, that’s the least rock n roll name ever). The XX (I know, but something about that name just pisses me off, it might be because it’s what a band of postmodernist student twats would call themselves).


8. Rag N Bone Man. Ladies and gentlemen please welcome to the stage the winner of this years ‘Sam Smith Award’ for being totally overhyped off the back of one pretty shit song and then being all over the TV and radio for the rest of eternity then spending 12 years off with ‘exhaustion’ before releasing another album which will sell millions to people who don’t really like music. Arserag N Bone Man. Probably a lovely chap though.

9. The Mavericks. I’m not a huge fan of dancing and I have certainly never given any consideration to the proposal of dancing a whole night away. If The Mavericks or any member of that unbelievably shoddy, tuneless, talentless band ever had the cheek to even hum ‘Dance the Night Away’ in my presence I would have no alternative but to spray them with Mace and feed them to pigs. We weren’t given ears to listen to this horseshit. All tossers.

10. You know who. He’s ginger. He’s lovely. He does a lot for charity. Your sister loves him. Your mother loves him. I wish hemorrhoids loved him. He’s ‘good’ at looping. He’s ‘good’ at rapping (when he raps I start to cry inside). He and his sincerely appalling music make me want to strap a suicide vest to my head and stick it in a microwave. I watched some of his set just to confirm what I already knew and what you should know too. And yes, for my money he’s still the worst thing to have happened to music. Ever.

There, that’s what I thought of Glastonbury this year. If you still haven’t tried Father John Misty then you really are missing out.

G B Hewitt. 30.6.2017

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