Review: Glastonbury Festival, Day Three - 30/06/2013

Photo: WENN/Gigwise

There's an awesome camaraderie in the air at Worthy Farm. Making it to the final day of Glastonbury's landmark comeback year has the weight of having survived something - of having truly lived. As the bleary-eyed masses crawl out of their baking hot tents to rise from their post-Stones stupor, can the closing day carry the same sense of romance and history that has surrouded Pilton so far?

The sweet, Swedish folk of First Aid Kit is the perfect summer sunshine accompaniment to a three day Sunday morning hangover - sending waves of cooling calm out across the Pyramid Stage. That mood continues with a heady performing from Rufus Wainwright. Stripped of his usual OTT flamboyance, Wainwright's solo set of sombre and operatic pop makes for a wonderful afternoon treat but fails to really lift the main stage's spirits without the power and drive provided by his full band.

He doesn't live up to the historic camp carnival of his 2007 set, but Wainwright still charms the pants off all present - regailing the audience with dedications to his husband and daughter and tales of the time he spent an evening with Jeff Buckley (but "didn't sleep with him," he is quick to add).

Whoever is responsible for putting The Vaccines on the William's Green stage in the middle of the afternoon really needs to have a word with themselves. What were you thinking? As hordes flock to the small tent in the hope of a glimpe of the denim-clad indie pin-ups, the area is cordoned off and shut down for as far as the eye can see - leaving many disappointed fans to huddle and blister in the sun's bright rays and gradually wander into the circus area to be dazzled and amazed by robots, catwomen, jugglers and many more of Glasto's other much-famed freaks.

The eccentricity picks up a notch over at the Other Stage as John Lydon and Public Image Limited receive a heroes' welcome. While Mr Rotten may be looking a bit worse for wear in what seems to be a rug and a bed sheet, he has never been in better voice. The twisted imagination of post-punk anthems 'This Is Not A Love Song', 'Death Disco' and 'Rise' may not seem ideal for this seasonal setting but the fire in their bellies is infectious. Our skin may be burning but our spirits are high.

Which makes it the perfect time for Vampire Weekend to take to the Pyramid Stage. Kicking off with the passionate bounce of 'Cousins', the lilt of Ezra Koenig and co once again shows all present what a good time looks like. While new tracks 'Hannah Hunt' and 'Unbelievers' fail to connect in the same way as their older classics, the pure Afro-beat pop rush of 'Holiday', 'A Punk' and 'Walcott' unite everyone in sweet song and tropical dancing. The dancing on display is exactly the kind of joyous outburst that all of those BBC round-up montages are made of.

A fairly meagre but passionate crowd sticks around to greet cult demi-God Nick Cave with his Bad Seeds. The menace of 'the wolfman' as he stalks and prowls the stage is a true sight to behold. Jumping into the crowd to be propped up by fans, Cave stares into the whites of their eyes - hell-bent of giving a performance to remember them by. The ghostly majesty of 'Jubilee Street' entrances with it's sheer grace and elegance before the demonically-dark cult classics of 'From Her To Eternity', 'Deanna', 'Jack The Ripper' and 'Tupelo' terrify the very core of the Mumford fans waiting in the wings. God bless you Nick Cave, you freaky mad bastard, you.

Those with the will to spit in the face of the most infuriating clash of the weekend work their way back over to the Other Stage for the strangely brilliant billing of Smashing Pumpkins on the Other Stage. Now, it's often said that Glastonbury doesn't really 'do' hard rock - but Billy Corgan and co more than make up for it with a 16 song career-spanning set that shows Worthy Farm exactly what it means to rock out.

The pretentious psych-fuelled space-rock of the first few songs is quickly forgiven by the awesome celebration of 'Rocket' and an unforgettably brilliant cover of 'Space Oddity' by David Bowie. It's genius on top of genius. You can't beat it. This is exactly what Glasto dreams are made of.

It's utter wall-to-wall super-shit-hotness from there on out as the veterans tear Pilton a new one with classic after classic. Say what you will about the current 'hired hand' band line-up - I challenge anyone present who witnessed the undeniable power of 'XYU', 'Disarm', 'Tonight Tonight', 'Bullet With Butterly Wings', 'Today', 'Zero' and 'Stand Inside Your Life' to say that the magic of their set tonight won't stay with them forever. It's simply a masterclass in how it's done (along with a lesson in where Muse ape all of their riffs from).

There's naturally a deafening buzz around the aniticipation of whether or not Mumford & Sons can live up to the legacy of headlining the last night of Glastonbury. Others are torn by the horrendous clash of The xx. We however, wanted to dance Glasto to a fitting close with the incredible Phoenix.

Opening with 'Entertainment' before firing into 'Lasso' and 'Lisztomania', the French art-rockers set is a truly flawless and utterly arresting set of relentlessly frenetic lazer show madness. Diving into the crowd and scaling the pillars, frontman Thomas Mars brings the insanity up close and personal into the faces of the electrified John Peel tent audience.

Congratulations Phoenix on an utterly epic crescendo and giving Glasto the perfect full-stop. Sweating and outdanced, everyone in the John Peel join each other in a huge circular can can to 'New York, New York' - a victory dance for having survived the battle of Glasto and winning. Glastonbury might as well have been the only place on Earth for that mystical feeling alone of being able to say: "I was there."

See you next year, and every other year thereafter forevermore.