If there's one thing that remains the same about Glastonbury every year, it's the one question that always lands in our inbox afterwards. It's not necessarily worded the same but it always eludes to the same thing: "How are the Glasto-blues?", "how's the hangover?" or "hope your comedown isn't too severe." These are all post Pilton classics.
Of course, the same could be said about any other festival, but that's the thing about Glastonbury: it's not like any other festival. It's a five/six day event that's as much about endurance as it is enlightenment. It's a haven for music, art, culture, food and adventure. It's an event that not only accepts stupidity and silliness, it embraces it and welcomes it to the field. Banter, gags and enough stiff jaws present at the Stone Circle to give even the most hardened party veteran the chills are always in high supply.
This year, the conditions were near perfect. There was almost no rain at all, the sun was blasting down for weeks beforehand leaving the ground dry and it only started spitting once the whole time. There was no soul-destroying Brexit-esque devastation this year either. No announcement of leaving the EU like last time, but that didn't mean the festival wasn't politically-charged.
Well-documented chants of "Oh Jeremy Corbyn" rattled around the site, with a breakout occurring during Radiohead's set on the Pyramid Stage, a motion that had Thom Yorke's approval. The frontman also managed to squeeze in the line "See you later Theresa May. Shut the door on the way out", much to the joy of the crowd.
The Labour big dog then introduced Run The Jewels the following day to one of the biggest crowds that the hallowed main stage has ever seen. And if people hadn't gone to see him, they were at least representing the cause with Corbyn t-shirts, masks and flags. He was perhaps the most talked about person during the whole festival. The other infamous figures in politics and current affairs were of course not neglected either. Theresa May, Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump all received upsetting, beautifully offensive billboards in their honour at Block9, the content of which is a little too risqué to repeat.
So Glastonbury this year was fired up, it was sunny and it was a slog, but what about the music? Well the music was fucking outrageous. Radiohead signed it, Solange sealed it and Chic delivered it. The DJs were on fine, festival-fuelling form and the attendees did their best to cram two years worth of dancing (next year will be a break year for the farm to recover) into five days.
Here are the tracks that gave us the feels and the sets that made us glow. To put it simply, this sort of energy cannot be replicated anywhere else on the planet. We're a bit sad we can't do it all again next year because there really isn't anything like it. We love you Glasto, we miss you already but thank you for giving us a place to call our own for five days, a place to call home. Funster
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