This past week has been
tinged with nostalgia (an insinuatingly pervasive condition), though I’m not
sure it was that or fear-of-missing-out that induced me to tune in to
Glastonbury on the TV. It certainly wasn’t the acts themselves, none of which
is on my list of favourites, past or present. I sampled the Foo Fighters, but
ten minutes of the singer’s unintelligible screaming was all I could endure. I
tried again, with Ed Sheeran and, although he accomplished a lot more with a
lot less, even his talent turned tedious after half an hour. Maybe you have to
be there to get it. In any case, the music belongs to a younger generation – and
one that likes to capture everything on phones.
Shunning the TV I went
to a live gig more attuned to my vintage – the Steely Dan copy-band called Nearly
Dan, which is pleasingly faithful to the original, especially when you
close your eyes. The audience comprised enthusiastic, mature fans, most of whom
were able to remain standing, at least until the interval. However, a younger
chap immediately in front of me hoisted a phone above his head and proceeded to
film the act. After a while, I objected that he was blocking my view and
distracting me from the performance. He desisted without protest and, soon
afterwards, slunk off elsewhere, but what had he hoped to gain by recording
thus?
Now that everyone has a
video recorder in their pocket, filming is no longer the exclusive realm of professionals:
the next day, at the cinema, I watched a ‘film’ which, apart from one short
sequence, was shot entirely on phones – and not very well, at that. It was
Andrew Kotting’s Edith Walks, an
unscripted, unstructured video-journal of him and a few friends walking, in
fancy dress, from Waltham Abbey, where some of King Harold’s body-parts are
said to be interred, to St. Leonard’s-on-Sea, where there is a statue of Harold
dying in the embrace of his wife/lover, Edith Swan-Neck. I could have done that,
I thought, (except that I didn’t) and if Kotting can persuade people to pay to
see his videos in cinemas, as opposed to airing them on YouTube, perhaps there
are commercial opportunities awaiting swathes of hibernating content embedded
in billions of SD cards around the world. Maybe there will be a release soon of
Nearly Dan Live: Uncut and Rudely
Interrupted.
I tried once more with
Glastonbury but the music interested me much less than the presence of contemporaries
– celebrities such as John Snow and Jeremy Corbyn – men who might be expected not
to share the musical taste of their children and grandchildren. But they may
have attended for other reasons: Glastonbury is not an exclusively musical
event whereas (cue nostalgia) Woodstock and the Isle of Wight most certainly
were. It was at the end of August 1969 that I took the ferry from Portsmouth to
join 150,000 other music fans on the IOW. A major draw, for me, was Bob Dylan
who, until then, had been missing-rumoured-dead following a motorcycle accident.
Fortunately, he re-surfaced and chose to play IOW rather than Woodstock. (I
know all this now because of the internet: at the time I was clueless.) I
remember seeing Jimi Hendrix and Emerson, Lake & Palmer as well but, thanks
again to the internet, I know that they weren’t there until the following year
– which is strange because I don’t recall going then.
My presence in 1969,
however, is not in doubt. I was the only one of my crew who possessed a camera
and, among the few shots I took (they were expensive, remember), there is one
of the distant stage and, with the aid of a magnifying glass, you can make out 2nd Isle of Wight Festival of
Music 1969 written on the proscenium arch. I must have run out of film at
the 1970 Festival.
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