The Feminine Divine is played (seriously, it’s amazing: from classic Dexys to Gainsbourgian synth-louche, as Rowland disentangles and disavows his historic attitudes to women), in keeping with Rowland’s trademark contrarianism regarding nostalgia. But he is so utterly vital: he’s seemingly keeping someone’s portrait locked in his attic, he looks so tanned and splendid in his pink and green suit. And that voice is still the sound of soul reaching out from the depths of isolation in a desperate attempt to connect; he can still rip out high notes in a way that sounds like he’s striking a match.
Down on the Pyramid stage at the same time as Dexys start, Marina Abramović is asking the crowd to stay silent for seven minutes as they give one another their unconditional love. The atmosphere up here is far brassier but the mood is very much the same: that of a heavily carpeted, musty brown pub full of emotional men with their arms around one another, singing some of the greatest pop songs of the past 40-plus years.
It’s a real party up here, strutting to the brass of Geno, sparking off the fantastic thespianism of Until I Believe…, as Rowland pretends to bawl, hoo-hoo-hoo-style, in a classic tale of romantic rejection. In one of the revue-style bits with foil (and sometimes saxophonist) Sean Read, he admits to being 70 – “I’m already old, man!” – but Come On Eileen – man, it’s utterly timeless. I firmly believe there are songs every British person deserves to hear done live at least once – Robbie Wiliams’s Angels, for one – and this is much the same; a bawdy, reveller’s folk song (and the sped-up bit in the middle eight leaves me giggling). “You definitely liked that one!” says Rowland, seemingly still surprised at it striking such a chord 42 years later. Too rye aye!!!!
Overload, with a chair routine reminiscent of Top of the Pops, is the show’s centrepiece. The performance is elevated through the dynamism of UK garage, and though the crowd is at full capacity, there is still plenty of arm swinging, jumping and singing. There is a little too much time spent on an “olly olly olly” call and response, but their cover of Sweet Female Attitude’s Flowers is triumphal.
The crowd are only stilled for the duration of two of the revived Sugababes’s newer tracks – When the Rain Comes and Today – though the catchiness of the latter’s chorus soon takes off. You might have hoped that they would reach for more deep-cut album tracks but they’re comfortable with their bangers: Push the Button, Round Round, and Too Lost in You. However, closer About You Now makes me wonder if the set has been too safe: its beamy pop commerciality feels incongruous with the too-cool-for-school grit that defines the trio. Their ownership of the entire Sugababes back catalogue is a triumphant development considering their legal struggles, but they’ve already long proved that the name is theirs and theirs alone.
US presidential debate.seven whole minutes. It’s a big ask given the, ahem, well-lubricated nature of some Glastonbury punters, but by the sounds of it she’s been successful. The Guardian’s Sarah Phillips, who is in the field, says that, bar a rogue screamer, the crowd all kept quiet and that the effect is “incredibly powerful and moving”.
“It is completely still and silent and I weirdly want to cry,” adds the Guardian’s Jenny Stevens.
Source: theguardian.com
