Thursday, June 28, 2007

Glastonbury 07: Rainy Friday Afternoon

And if there is no guitar in a house,
You know its owner, he cannot be trusted.
And if there is no drumset in the office,
Don't be surprised when the business get busted.

It’s amazing how good music, or just a good show can distract you from a great British downpour. Gogol Bordello exhibit ceaseless energy and enthusiasm and within about ten minutes (and admittedly, for about ten minutes) I am an evangelical gypsy punk. Phil Jupitus describes them as "a bit like The Clash having a fight with The Pogues in Eastern Europe.” I can’t really better that, except to ask you to imagine what that might look like live. New album Super Taranta is pretty infectious, although if you want a perfect piece of gypsy punk my money’s on Punk Rock Parranda from Multi Kontri Culti. Plus I fear I’m rapidly developing a bit of a crush on Eugene Hutz (v. cute accent).

It’s a shame that Amy Winehouse can’t provide enough of a distraction during the prehistoric rainfall. Her performance is so dull and lacklustre, peppered only with some laconic beehive flicking and manic eye-rolling that my fellow campers desert me and I am left to watch the end of her set alone. The band was good though; lots of Temptations-esque synchronised dancing, and I do sort of like her cover of Monkey Man. I just wish she’d eat something; it might give her a bit more energy. Because despite her apparent indifference to the audience, watching Amy Winehouse sing made me realise how utterly natural her vocal talent is. She could be eye-poppingly good. But she wasn’t.

Labels: , , ,


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home