Wednesday, 30 June 2010


Just got back from Glastonbury dirty, dehydrated and knackered. All good signs, obviously.

We saw a bit of music including LCD Soundsystem, The xx, Kelis, Hot Chip, Strange Boys, er Sharika, Lulu and the Lampshades (who played not once but thrice) and We Have Band to name a few…. in-between supping on pints of cider, having some mega jokes and watching people acquire some can-you-believe-that sunburn. Slip, slap, slop, jesus.

The unequivocal winner though was Stevie Wonder, who tore the house down, ripped it into little pieces infact.

The guy is a genius, a musical legend. That we knew. But I certainly didn't know about the fact that he's a fucking player. A few light-hearted comedy skits, a bit of flirting with the backing singers, an interlude where he drank a 'magic potion' to make his voice an octave higher to bring back 'Little Stevie', were just some of the effortless ways in which he charmed us.

Not to mention his pitch-perfect, vibrant performance that left us all with our mouths on the floor. Grown men were reduced to tears all around me. No one fucks with Stevie, don't believe me, watch this.

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