The CLUAS Archive: 1998 - 2011


Today is the end of the 40th Glastonbury festival, and as the tour buses trundle out of the otherwise sleepy village of Pilton in Somerset and the massive clean-up gets underway in Worthy Farm I return to my yearly Glastonbury routine which I’m sure I share with many.

This routine consists of me watching Glastonbury footage and becoming increasingly green-eyed with every guitar chord emanating from the Pyramid Stage and cursing myself for not being there. So in an effort of consolation I resolve to go the next year and religiously follow the Glastonbury updates throughout the year. But then the year passes and I miss the festival yet again. This routine is repeated yearly, and I will eventually get to Glastonbury even if it means riding a tractor through Pilton and accosting Michael Eavis himself.

Having previously housed such iconic acts as T. Rex, The Smiths, The Stone Roses, Blur and Oasis it’s become a British musical institution. And this year while the cows were grazing in fields at a safe distance from drunken revellers and overly confident rockstars the Pyramid stage was graced by Gorillaz, Muse and Stevie Wonder respectively.

As per usual the festival was very successful, and I’m sure there are Glastonbury survivors all around England nursing the mother of all hangovers to choruses of “It was worth it, completely worth it” and questioning if anything they saw throughout the weekend really happened. The general consensus is that the more outlandish and surreal the memory, the more likely it is it that it really did happen.

I’m sure Damon Albarn is very pleased to have headlined Glastonbury two years in a row, albeit in different bands. So, as the beginning of summer has been marked with the always eclectic Glastonbury festival I’m going to sign up for every Glastonbury festival mailing list possible.  Because I’ll be there next year, I swear.

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Nuggets from our archive

2004 - The CLUAS Reviews of Erin McKeown's album 'Grand'. There was the positive review of the album (by Cormac Looney) and the entertainingly negative review (by Jules Jackson). These two reviews being the finest manifestations of what became affectionately known, around these parts at least, as the 'McKeown wars'.