Glasto

Camping has never been my strong point (with a traumatic incident as a child in which I was left to my own devices on a cliff in Wales on my own with a box of cereal … don’t ask!) and although I realise that I am missing out on a huge part of life by not covering myself in mud and puking up due to the smell of the portaloos I think I am playing it quite clever with my clean toilet and cozy bed, but that’s just me and my crazy ways. And to be honest, with Glasto's line up this year it does not look like I am missing much. There are a few scattered gems within a pile of proverbial shit which is a shame for such an iconic and momentous event.

There is something deeply worrying when your mum runs into the kitchen shouting "Lady GaGa is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G". However as much as it hurt me to admit, this two bit go go dancer was actually pretty impressive, and the best thing on it so far what with the indie bands of yesterday still regurgitating there once fleeting popularity with the 200th rendition of a song which was of its moment in 2006.

The coverage alone is enough to make you kick the cat out of the window as Jo Whiley’s face smugly pops up telling me how little I know about "this years most up and coming band" who I probably knew before it hit her mainstream doormat. And the crème de la crème, Mr. Zane "I’m a twat" Lowe popping up to remind me that “a lot of people don’t know who Bruce Springsteen is” delivered in his usually annoying and self important which last a good 5 minutes as he reassures me this is prey for my own good. Believe me Zane, it isn't.

I think however naff it may be, the aforementioned, Bruce Springsteen (or the Boss as he insists me to call him) is a tiny bit of an idol of me, I’m sure it was the tight jeans and wispy hair that did it but for whatever reason this socially apt and politically outspoken icon will tower the stage and I’m pretty sure that his set along with BLUR's reunion will overcast all other attempts of jangling entertainment. Anticipation is an odd thing, and disappointment is even odder so as I live in hope that the once beautiful love between Coxon and Albarn has retained its glow I look past the hype and mediocrity (and slight disappointment of Jamie T who along with clean hair appears to have lost his edge) hope to god that it is not just Spandau Ballet who can rock the comeback.

H xxx