Yves Tumor
Throughout the day, my friends and I have been doing a sweepstake on how many reprises of the ‘Hey Jude’ chorus Paul McCartney is planning at the end of his Saturday night headline set on the Pyramid stage. There are, indeed, shitloads of reprises – he invites just the women, then just the men, then everyone, and so on – but, in all honesty, we’re no longer counting at this point. We’re in too good of a mood to let cynicism spoil the singalong. His set has been long – he overruns his two-and-a-quarter-hour set time by some distance – and at times a slog during a first half that occasionally loses momentum with its blend of early Beatles tracks, Wings cuts, and hard-to-follow anecdotes about the ’60s, but a final hour of one hit after another makes it impossible not to start grinning.
I don’t have particularly strong feelings about Dave Grohl, who makes a surprise appearance for ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ and ‘Band On The Run’, but I find myself swept away in the bemusement and euphoria when the Foo Fighters man is introduced. When McCartney one-ups that with Bruce Springsteen immediately afterwards, another unannounced guest with whom he plays Springsteen’s ‘Glory Days’ and early Beatles track ‘I Wanna Be Your Man’, things get even wilder than that. Strangely, it’s only the ‘virtual duet’ with John Lennon, whose vocal has been isolated by Get Back documentary director Peter Jackson, that doesn’t quite land. There are also moments when pure musicianship takes over – a stunning version of ‘Something’ in tribute to George Harrison, a closing rendition of the medley from Abbey Road, and a lovely solo acoustic ‘Blackbird’ for instance – and bombast of the highest order as fireworks are set off during ‘Live And Let Die’. In the end, it’s telling how much the near-three hours have flown by.
The day begins with bombast too, as black midi play West Holts. They perform at such blistering pace and intensity, sometimes playing their own songs in double time, and with such consistent momentum, that it’s as if they’re doing this 24/7, and we’re just taking an hour’s glimpse into their strange parallel universe, where everything looks like the chaotic organic/digital artwork of their album covers. Their playful streak is on show too – sneaking the aggravating riff from P!nk’s ‘So What’ into their set, and playing arguably their signature track ‘bmbmbm’ as a twisted funk cover version.
Yves Tumor keeps that energy going on the same stage afterwards, with a contender for set of the weekend. Their band, dressed like hair metallers and playing like them too, are arranged on giant white boxes while Tumor poses, pouts and throws themselves around like the greatest rockstar of their generation. On this evidence, they might well be that anyway.
Paul McCartney
Pa Salieu, over at the John Peel tent, is also on killer form, not least when he brings on Slowthai – who leaps instantly into the crowd with his trademark chaos – for their breezy joint single ‘Glidin”. Dancers intermittently leap around behind Salieu as he demands "energy!" after every song. A colossal audience heed his call and then some.
Energy also defines Billy Nomates, who delivers total commitment over at Leftfield. It’s a mark of her inherent stage presence and razor-sharp edge that with only a backing track and a microphone she can deliver one of the most cutting shows of the weekend. It’s a shame that Caribou, who play West Holts, have their own momentum interrupted as the sound cuts out entirely early on in their set, something the band themselves are at first unaware of as they continue playing but to total silence. A man nearby, who has just announced he’s tripping on acid, asks me for reassurance that he’s not gone deaf. Fortunately, Dan Snaith and his band don’t take too long to pick things back up.
After Paul McCartney’s set, still beaming we wander to Block9 in the rave-heavy South East Corner. Floating Points is playing the huge and striking IICON stage, which is built to resemble a giant head that’s been severed from a giant statue from an alien civilisation. The rest is a blur.
