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The Rolling Stones @ Glastonbury 2013 (Review)
Indie | Thursday 4th July 2013 | James
In previous years Glastonbury Festival has fed off the digital age, cementing itself as the ultimate festival and the definitive weekend for muso's everywhere. With secret sets in recent years eclipsing headline sets (Radiohead overshadowed U2's stagnant performance in 2011) and in a year where Daft Punk are rumoured to be playing pretty much every five minutes at Worthy Farm, the organisers looked intent on letting nothing take the spotlight off their crown jewel: The Rolling Stones, after 43 years of trying, were finally set to headline the greatest festival on Earth.
Every punter coming through the gates felt some odd obligation to trudge down to the Pyramid Stage on Saturday to see the band everyone was talking about. Even people who didn't know who The Rolling Stones were (I overheard one girl say to her friend "OH, Mick Jagger! The Rolling Stones is his band, is it?") found themselves being inundated with comments about how they simply had to watch. In truth, come 9pm on a humid summer Saturday night, the only people who weren't at the Pyramid Stage awaiting the most anticipated headline set in festival history were a handful of gurners in vintage Adidas jumpers shaking their way through a turgid Chase & Status set on the Other Stage.
The crowd swelled to over 100,000 people reportedly, with floods of people stretching up the hill at the far end of the field in an attempt to glimpse history in the making. The detractors - or people who weren't in attendance - will scoff and suggest that The Rolling Stones needn't have even bothered playing a note. They will suggest that the icons merely needed to get on stage, play the first chord of 'Satisfaction', stick a finger up at the crowd and disappear and it would still be deemed by many quarters as the best festival set in living memory. They are, in truth, probably correct. That still doesn't take anything away from the solid and clear fact that emitted once the pyrotechnics had finished come midnight: The Rolling Stones, well and truly, aced it.
From the low-key saunter on-stage, you'd be forgiven for thinking that this may not have justified the hype. Within seconds that cloudy judgement is sent spiraling out of your brain as Keith winds up his guitar to deliver the first few moments of the Stones' first colossal bona fide hymn of the evening in 'Jumpin' Jack Flash'. The song sets a night-long precedent with Jagger flinging himself across the stage as if he is 16 rather than 69. His voice - as always - is utterly (and breathtakingly) faultless. "It's a gas, gas, gas!" he sings in that iconic tone which leads you to understand the true surreal nature of the evening. Jagger, more than any other British musician today, is on a pedestal so high that he practically dwarfs the nearest musician to him in Paul McCartney. Whereas McCartney has attracted column inches with his questionable spouses and omnipotent presence at Royal Family celebrations, Jagger has embraced his mythology making his allure higher than ever: he is, after fifty years, the last remaining rock'n'roll great. Except Keef, of course.
The band tear through their hits with a true joie de vivre - 'It's Only Rock'n'Roll (But I Like It)' gives way to the massive 'Paint It Black' before 'Gimme Shelter' practically makes you scoff with the sheer amount of tunes that this band has at its disposal. Sure, they may not have made a record of artistic credit since 1972, but it doesn't even matter. Tonight is a celebration of all they have done for British music in general and it takes place in the most iconic field in the country. "I went to Shangri-La!" Jagger enthuses passionately before declaring "I saw the Arctic Monkeys!" in a touching moment. Jagger is really bloody trying tonight. He has engrossed himself in the Glastonbury culture, and a humorous re-working of 'Factory Girl' sees Jagger change the title to 'Glastonbury Girl' with lyrical nods to ecstasy, camping and wet wipes.
He may be staying in his luxury yurt, but Jagger and his boys are delivering tons of reasons why so many people are braving sleeping in cold dewy grass in the Somerset countryside. 'Can't You Hear Me Knocking' sees the band joined by former member Mick Taylor before band introductions give way to the stomping 'Honky Tonk Woman'. Whilst Jagger may attract the plaudits - and rightly so - it is clear that Richards is every bit of an accomplished performer as his frontman. Each riff is delivered with nonchalance, Keef rarely giving the devoted audience a glance and the whole aura surrounding him is one which says "this is just another day at the office". It's clearly untrue and it's a testament to Richards that he has the ability to deliver some of the most powerful moments in rock'n'roll with a defiant un-arsed expression.
'2000 Light Years From Home' is a surprising highlight and proves the quality the band possessed in the era of Their Satanic Majesties Request before the whole weekend is defined in just a few seconds. The rumbling Charlie Watts drums mix in to Mick's yelps as he prances around in a black fur coat. "Please allow me to introduce myself..." he croons as 'Sympathy For The Devil' causes huge movement in the crowd. The bird on top of the Pyramid rears its hind legs and breathes fire. This, make no mistake, is the moment that Glastonbury has waited 43 years for. It is unlike anything ever seen on this stage before.
Certain bands deliver career-defining - sometimes even era-defining - headline sets here. Pulp did it in 1995, encapsulating Britpop at its finest with a true avant garde, progressive performance. This, however, is culture-defining. It typifies Britain as a whole: the most famous of British musicians on the most famous of British cultural hubs. It is - and this cannot be stressed enough - one big, long-awaited party. 'Tumbling Dice' and 'Brown Sugar' cue massive sing-alongs before the breathtaking, gorgeous and choir-led 'You Can't Always Get What You Want'. '(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction' is suitably epic, and with that 20-song strong set, the band are off.
The dust settles and the realisation sets in: The Rolling Stones just nailed Glastonbury. Despite not releasing any quality music in nigh on fourty years, The Stones have had their reputations preserved by the fact that they are born entertainers. The performance of Jagger has not wilted in the slightest as he ages and he seemed to fully understand how to perform tonight. The set raises a few questions around the future of British music and Glastonbury itself. The Rolling Stones typify Britishness and see themselves delivering the most anticipated gig of the century despite having disappointed fans with under-par music for two-thirds of their career. Is music becoming a series of tribute acts to itself? What is needed to create true avant-garde new pieces of music? With festivals dripping in nostalgia, do new bands have the chances to progress further up festival bills or are the current crop simply not strong enough? After fulfilling a lifelong ambition, where does Michael Eavis and Glastonbury go from here?
For now, though, those questions can remain unanswered. Tonight was all about satisfaction. Pure, unadulterated, celebratory satisfaction.
By James Rodger @jamesdrodger
