Someone in the crowd told our Sophie, “The only thing that could follow this is if Jesus, Moses, and Muhammad were to present themselves now with three ukuleles.”
Jamie T reviewed
Gwilym Mumford
John Peel, 10:30 p.m.
Jamie Treays and his band have only done one small concert before their return to the festival. “Without rehearsing, fat and old,” he warns about tonight’s set. I’m not sure this is true in any of these aspects: they sound pretty tight from where I am and Treays has a reasonable nick, although when he takes off his jacket and accidentally shows some belly he sings “Belly’s gonna get” . you ”(ask your parents). As for the “old” charge, Treays is 15 years old and is about to release the number five album, but he is still only 36.
His followers are even younger. In front of me, a 10- or 11-year-old boy is perched on his father’s shoulders, fully lifted by color, noise, and light, reveling in bedtime. There’s a pleasant smell of juvenile delinquency in the air: the now ubiquitous smoke from the pyrotechnics that fills Peel’s tent, every song promotes a pit. Someone has slipped a massive umbrella and is throwing it back and forth because … why not?
Treays also does his part, tinnie in hand, spitting furiously to the last letter. He now has a deep bank of infallible festivals, from his first and brazen things as a punk poet to recent and thick material. Sticks’n’Stones, Back in the Game, Dragon Bones and of course Sheila are greeted with exuberance.
As he rounds things up with a zombie hitting, Treays takes off his shirt, the spare wheel exposed to the world. “I don’t care shit,” he growls. Older? For sure. Wiser? Hmm. But great nonetheless.
We will soon have a full review of Paul McCartney by Alexis Petridis, as well as reviews of some of the headliners from other venues on the site: Jamie T and Jessie Ware.
The audience is getting to really erase their vocal cords with Carry That Weight, another mass song. Springsteen and Grohl come out again, together in an elongated wigout. This has pretty much massively raised the bar of Glasto’s star guest tradition: McCartney has played live with each of them before (Springsteen earlier this month in the US, even), but never all together like that.
And then it’s all over, finishing a set that had some really compelling curiosities amidst the giant classics – possibly losing a few more casual fans at times, but reuniting them in the most euphoric way imaginable.
Updated at 00.28 BST
We’re now in a very muscular Helter Skelter, with McCartney making some awesome screams, and this is an 80-year-old man who is now 90 minutes into a set in front of 100,000 people. There were a couple of slight vocal jerks during the night by all accounts, but that sounded decidedly unorthodox.
There is now a broadcast of a moving technological maneuver, which allows McCartney to do a duet with Lennon in I’ve Got a Feeling, the latter’s voice having been isolated during the making of the documentary Get Back. This is the coup de grace in an ensemble that has felt like a true supply of the breath of Macca history and tradition. “This is so special to me man,” McCartney says. “I know it’s virtual, but hey, it’s John. We’re back together.”
Updated at 00.09 BST
Paul McCartney shows solidarity with Ukraine
After leaving the stage with the audience singing Hey Jude over and over again, McCartney comes out again and waves a Ukrainian flag – the most prominent show of support at a festival admirably full of it. His band has a Rainbow of Pride flag and also a Union Jack.
As was absolutely inevitable, the song Hey Jude is Glastonbury’s big moment. Just like someone who does a PA club at your local Pryzm nightclub, makes only women sing, now only boys, all a cappella. And now the horns have touched again. Dopamine levels are skyrocketing. “I wonder if that’s how religious people feel in church,” says our Keza MacDonald. Here is the view from the crowd:
Photography: Josh Halliday / The Guardian
Updated at 00.08 BST
Megan Thee Stallion reviewed
Tara Joshi
Another stage, 10.30 pm
Arriving on stage in black skin, a leather corset-leotard with heels and screams of “real hot girl shit!” in the middle of air horns, our hot summer girl patron is here and did not come to play. In the third song, Freak Nasty, Houston’s last legendary rapper is flanked by his balanced dancers, the coat is off and every time he grabs the crotch or shakes his ass for the camera, the crowd shouts. “It makes me feel too good,” he smiles after a flawless rendition of Simon Says in Big Ole Freak.
The dancers leave and she starts writhing on the floor, her tongue out, before the returns of “eat it, eat it until I come” (with a dancer and Meg puts her leg up for simulate it). It’s a set that takes us from Tina Snow’s days to the present, interspersed with calls to the audience to yell if they love each other as they are (and it’s proof of their power that this isn’t cloying). When we get to WAP, it’s a party, and it’s a barometer of how great a song anyone can rap with those ridiculously fast beats is.
Megan Thee Stallion performing on the other stage. Photography: Ben Birchall / PA
Then Body makes everyone frantic. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve seen in a long time,” he smiles. He will later talk about what is happening in the United States with Roe v Wade: “You know it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t say something about these stupid men. Texas makes me ashamed right now, everyone. Hot girls and boys can’t stand this shit. “My body, my fucking choice!” She asks everyone to sing this last line and put her middle fingers in the air.
And then, in that spirit of women loving her body. Let’s go back to the hot girls ’summer (“ It’s about fucking ladies doing what they want to do! ”), Their recent collaboration with Dua Lipa gets a look, as does Savyon’s Beyoncé remix. He ends with a brief but glorious version of Eazy-E-interpolating Girls in the Hood, before saying, “I’m Megan Thee Motherfucking Stallion … and if you don’t know me yet, ask for your boo.” Exceptional.
Updated at 00.13 BST
Apparently all of Somerset’s pyrotechnic stock is detonating for Live and Let Die, and then it’s Hey Jude. This is not so much liking people as love bomb.
And now is the time, after Spingsteen leaves, for one of the greatest songs ever written and some days my favorite of the entire Beatles catalog: Let It Be, whose simple melodic and lyrical logic is like a comforting hand in a friend’s arm. It has a very showy and wide guitar solo that I think the lily is browning a bit, but that chorus sounds so sumptuous. There will be so many tears on the grass of the pyramid stage.
Updated at 23.47 BST
Please note that there is a hole in the form of a Glastonbury date in the Springsteen tour program next year, when he will be doing a European tour. Is this the hardest warm-up in the world? They now duet in a 1963 version of I Wanna Be Your Man. Boomers are exploding right now.
Updated at 00.16 BST
And now Bruce Springsteen has arrived!
That rumor went well! Your gods! This is the story of the pyramid, and an enchanted squeal rises. They’re doing Springsteen’s own glory days, and the battered voice in her head sounds so good she shoots into the night sky.
To clarify, this is Springsteen solo, with Macca and Dave having left the stage presumably for a restorative glass of Bovril.
Updated at 23.40 BST