Why Glastonbury works.
What makes the greatest festival on Earth tick
I’ve been attending festivals regularly for 16 years, which is now exactly half my life. The love I have for music of all genres has barely waned since I was a moody teenager; sulking in my bedroom on family holidays, cranking Radiohead CDs I would never give back to Nelson Bay Public Library and paging through issues of Rolling Stone, dreaming about going to Glastonbury.
In the intervening years, I turned intense obsession with music into a career, which means much of my holiday time has been dictated by where music festivals are. I’d estimate that I’ve attended well in excess of 120 festivals around the world from Primavera in Barcelona to Exit in Serbia, RBMA New York, Pitchfork Paris, All Points East and multiple iterations our very own Parklife, Livid, Laneway, Splendour and Big Day Out.
Sometimes I’ve worked backstage, others I’ve been on the ground as a journalist. I’ve watched friends play huge stages, juggled set-times, fatigue, gozleme, sniffer dogs, Wellies, extreme heat and watered-down beer. I even came a hair’s breadth away from putting on my own festival in 2017, so I have a pretty good understanding of what makes these things work.
Glastonbury really works.
Yes, I got lucky. The 2019 edition featured 5 days of zero rain and sunshine, which is about as rare as a reliable Australian or UK Prime Minister. But beyond the weather, Glastonbury is an absolute masterclass in how to make festivals memorable, enjoyable, reliable and safe. It was more effective with 200,000 people in the gates each day than I’ve seen some events that only have a tenth of the attendees. Here’s why I think that is.
Water for the planet
Glastonbury took a drastic step this year of completely ridding their festival of plastic. Doing this meant that they had to step up to the plate with nearly 900 water refill stations to accomodate close to a million reusable bottles. This wasn’t just a huge move for the environment, rightly praised by artists across the board, but also a lesson in how to give and garner respect to the planet and their patrons.
It blows my mind that festivals still charge for water in any Western country where it is freely available from a tap. In most nightclubs and venues outside of Europe, this is basically outlawed. Festivals should be no different and it’s to Glastonbury’s credit that they pushed themselves to create a sustainable alternative when they could have raked in cash as so many others do.
It was easier to find water (and toilets) at this festival than any I have been to in my life. And this was in the middle of fucking England on a giant farm with custom infrastructure. With record temperatures the likes we’re used to in Australia, you’d expect them to overload the system and go down. Instead there were friendly volunteers pouring it out at every turn, raising awareness for WaterAid in the process.
Of course, when your patrons drink more water, they’re less likely to get completely written off. So it’s not just a win for the planet, it’s a win for the paramedics, too.
Lay on the volunteers, not police
It goes without saying that I hail from Australia, which has some of the most draconian festival and reactive drug laws in the developed world. Glastonbury is a frankly staggering enterprise which means I would have assumed a massive police presence was a given and that searches would be intensely thorough.
I didn’t see a single cop until the second day of the festival. Security at the gates didn’t ask us to unpack anything, there were no sniffer dogs and the official brochure didn’t even say that drugs were expressly prohibited.
Wowsers would argue that this allows for a hedonistic mecca of dealers and overdosing. Wrong. Despite record temperatures that would kill most British people, nobody died at this festival and many had a large assortment of drugs on them. The festival prepared for this eventuality by populating the field with tens of thousands of friendly volunteers, many from the local area, many who were trained in first aid, counsellors or as fire marshalls looking out for punters across the five days.
The difference between a smiling Mum and a cop goes without saying. It changes the entire vibe and this as much as anything is why Glastonbury has such a stellar reputation. Nobody felt compelled to get completely obliterated as fast as they could and it was easy and safe to ask for help if you needed it.
This says a lot about respect and it goes both ways. Fans don’t want to ruin the festival which has a significant heritage with shit behaviour, and organisers don’t want to clamp down on them having a good time if they don’t have to. It’s a hard balance to strike, but lord knows lesser festivals should be able to do it.
Glastonbury is twice the size of Big Day Out at its 2007 peak and went for close to a week. From 200,000 people only 96 offences recorded, no overdoses. They also allowed you to bring your own alcohol.
Says a lot, doesn’t it?
Don’t take the piss with toilets
Unglamorous, sure, but lets be real; large festivals have massive issues with amenities. Somehow this problem is multiplied in pre-erected arenas, where toilets already exist, rather than fields where loos can be rolled out. As with others held on green space (Meredith, Falls) Glastonbury opted for long drops and compost toilets. These are much simpler to build, cost effective and are open air. In baking 30 degrees, that’s actually an inspired touch.
They also put them everywhere. I have a small bladder and England’s standard serve is a pint. That combination is a disaster, particularly for women that can’t use urinals, but at Glastonbury, there giant were toilet blocks every 500 metres. You could legitimately find fresh water and toilets faster than you could find reasonably priced warm beer.
Sure, they smelled bad, but so did all of us, so who cares? And I never had that moment of missing an act while desperately waiting to wazz, surely a crime punishable by death.
Brandless for the fans.
Having transitioned from music journalism to advertising a few years ago, I’ve been keenly interested in the land grab taking place by brands in the music space. It’s something I’ve written about at length.
What stunned me was how few brands were at Glastonbury. Their stages were literal — Pyramid, a pyramid, Other, the other one, Park… well, you get the idea — rather than sold to the highest bidder.
I counted four big brands across the entire festival; EE, a telco who had charging tents, WaterAid, The Guardian and Greenpeace. That’s it. No booze, no phones, no shoe brands, no crap activations. Outrageous that such a thing is even possible in 2019; Glastonbury is cheaper than Coachella which is a walking billboard of a festival. Sure, one cider obviously bought the rights to first pour and Diageo had the spirits down but nobody had the opportunity to shout in your face at any point. It felt like 1999, not 2019. Beautifully bizarre.
This says a lot about how the British value their cultural artefacts. Despite being a mega-event, Glastonbury is also a literal institution. It is recorded, simulcast and archived in its entirety by the BBC. The land it is held on is protected. You can buy almost anything in the UK these days if you have enough money, but you can’t buy this. That sense of collective spirit and ownership, the same that exists around the NHS and BBC, is arguably something Australia has lost in the past decade. And we’ve suffered for it, particularly when it comes to the arts.
After all, who can forget when we let them broadcast a horse race on the Opera House?
Going brandless also gives artists more power, because let’s face it, brands often get in the bloody way. They can license their recordings for later opportunities, work with brands outside of the main event and say ‘Fuck Boris’ whenever they want. If The Pyramid Stage was the M&S Stage, I somehow doubt Stormzy would be headlining it in a Banksy knife vest made from the Union Jack.
Let’s get political
Glastonbury is a festival started by hippies, attended by long-haired bohemians dressed like Noel Fielding (and some others) and held on the same outdoor farm since the ’60s. It goes without saying that it’s a left-field gathering, but Glastonbury refused to step down from its politics for anyone.
Glastonbury doesn’t just give unconventional voices a platform, it nurtures and amplifies them. In recent years, the left has gotten so unbelievably out of step with reality that it’s become almost embarrassing (and potentially dangerous fodder) to align with them, which is an awkward predicament for 90% of the audience. Glastonbury encourages collective progressive politics without being aggressive towards those on the fence.
Thus we have Lizzo on body positivity and self-love, Olly of Years & Years on the Stonewall anniversary, Ezra Collective on Christian love, Kojey Radical on depression, Stormzy on BAME mistreatment, Billie Eilish on mobile phone culture, Dave on violence against women. There’s 200,000 ways to voice dissent against the incoming Prime Minister without starting a Twitter firestorm.
Music has always been the great equaliser when it comes to important issues. It’s also typically veered left, so it’s refreshing to see an outlet where these two align more naturally. In one hour alone, David Attenborough shows up to talk about climate change while Years & Years blast stats about LGBT discrimination the big screen. But it never feels too much. Maybe it’s the heritage, but few festivals can pull that off.
Surprise and delight
When you become old hat at going to festivals, the last thing you want is to know what you’re about to experience. I remember getting so good at Laneway Festival that I could get to their PIP industry bar in under 5 minutes from anywhere on the grounds. This is completely untrue of Glastonbury, which changes every year and continually shakes itself up.
While Glastonbury is a sensation overload, only a portion of that is to do with the music.The rest is down to the extraordinary sculptures, installations, nooks and crannies that fill the giant expansive field. From the absolutely mental after-dark experiences like Arcadia and Block9 to stages behind slides, bars hidden in forests, healing tents, poetry recitals, acoustic bandstands and custom artwork as far as the eye can see, it really feels like the world’s largest carnival.
In our rush to make things slick, sellable and scalable, many of our festivals have lost their sense of wonder. That’s something that Golden Plains and Secret Garden (RIP) have kept alive, but nothing at the level Glastonbury achieves. The festival could easily trade off its big-name bookings and forget about the art. Instead, it celebrates it, embracing the weird and wonderful.
Glastonbury is the only festival I’ve been to where you are actively encouraged to go out at midnight and get lost. There are 8 billed stages but in reality, it’s something closer to 40. Whoever programs this thing must have won Microsoft Excel, because honestly, it fires on all pistons pretty much 196 hours straight. Mark Ronson will come on 3am somewhere you only recently discovered existed. Stella Donnelly will show up in a small bar, Fatboy Slim will DJ in a customised barn 15 miles from your campsite.
You are fully encouraged to be a kook at Glastonbury. To be weird and tap into the curious and strange part of yourself. There is no theme but everyone dresses up anyway. Giant home-made flags are part of the legacy. It’s a big nod to when alternative counter-culture was a real thing (read; when I was 16) and not a punchline, and it’s a joy to be able to experience that sensation again.
Despite its reputation as one of the biggest music festivals on the planet, by the numbers, Glastonbury no longer even cracks the Top 10. However, outside various iteration of Woodstock, Lollapalooza and Coachella, its arguably the most famous in the English-speaking world. Who knew it was down to so much more than just the music?
