The Pop Corporation

As we talked all the way through Jada Star’s set early on the Saturday morning at the Acoustic Stage, having not been to bed yet, it was clear we were in the presence of something very special. It wasn’t the music coming from the PA – and it certainly wasn’t the people around us who found their eyes narrowing in what we assumed was enthusiastic agreement while we loudly stated that, in fact, this wasn’t merely a festival – it was a vibe.

This conversation was something that had started during the Friday daytime slots. Tara had suggested that we microdose on some gummies, and while we didn’t actually take them, we may as well have. While some band played – you really don’t have to come here for the music – we spoke loudly of the ley lines which run through this spiritual place. A mecca if you will, for those in tune with their spiritual side. Not a specific spirituality you understand. It was almost like we’d been granted a blessing of all the religions, to cherry pick which bits of religion work best for us. After-all, isn’t that what being spiritual freedom is? It is an opportunity to see Frank Turner, share a can of Dark Fruits with someone, and talk and talk and talk and really get to know them on an almost holy level. You know what I mean?

Glastonbury Festival isn’t like other festivals. You can have fun at Leeds or wherever, but this is Glasto… we’ve been calling it Glasto for the past few years now… Glasto is more than a festival. It feels like a movement.

In the Healing Fields, we heard the sounds of what this guy told us was “goa trance”. It moves something ancient inside of me. It is so crazy to be planning on watching Yard Act one minute, and feeling a connection with something primal and ancient like ‘goa trance’ the next.

Not everyone is willing to have their ego stripped bare at Glasto – it’s a scary prospect right? After all, this is where King Arthur fought his last battle at The Isle of Avalon. Probably where the West Holts stage is or something. The monks of Glastonbury Abbey found his grave there. They say Jesus walked these fields as a child with Joseph of Arimathea. We bought some falafel for £38, which is not bad really, considering the history and spirituality in the literal ground.

The community is amazing at Glasto. We could feel people actively willing us to talk more quietly during the music, and that can only be down to the free flowing spiritual connection between us all and sharing of ideas. The ideas that formed in our wandering minstrels and bards on stage, and us, stood at the hem of their garments like devotees. But like, we’re all equal too. It’s hard to explain what this cultural exchange is that makes Glasto such a unique place. You wouldn’t get it unless you’ve been.

My parents were hippies and I too feel like something of a restless gypsy myself. I know you’re not really supposed to say gypsy anymore, but we mean it more in the Stevie Nicks way. God, she’d be great at Glasto, wouldn’t she?

There were so many things we’ve never witnessed before at this festival. Otokobe Beaver played a version of Japanese punk and honestly, we didn’t know they really did music over there – it was wild! We talked a lot to try and engage everyone around us, to alert them to this unique opportunity we all had facing us. Some people seemed angry at us. Maybe the Glasto crowd isn’t what it used to be, just like dad said when I told him I would be going this year.

It’s so funny to me – as we talked through a thing called ‘Black British Book Festival: Remembering Benjamin Zephaniah’ with Benjamin’s brother, Moqpai Selassie, Sophia Thakur and Casey Bailey, someone made some snide comment about our friend Oliver having dreadlocks or something and you would have thought that, at Glasto of all places, they would have understood that Vikings actually had dreadlocks. How can it be cultural appropriation? The crowd isn’t what it used to be indeed, dad. And they didn’t even play any of this Zephaniah fella’s songs – we were only talking while they were warming up. What’s the big deal?

Despite some idiots being very frosty with us – there’s always some, eh? – it really does remain a very sacred and special place. We met one guy who told us that we were in fact all one – we’re all descendent of the people of Lemuria, and that race isn’t something we should focus on. As someone who has never seen ‘colour’, it shows what a tremendous and beautiful place Glasto really can be. A whole weekend, soaking in the spiritual vibe, the music floating around into the ether, the Dark Fruits, talking through the Burna Boy set on the Sunday. Transcendent.

Some have baulked at the £355 per ticket, but really, what price can you put on spiritual enrichment? It is a bargain really, to be able to talk endlessly in the middle of so many likeminded people while they’re trying to watch a band that they like. To bounce ideas around, to meet other people who are just like you, who have cast off the shackles of the losers you knew from private school, to rid yourself of the expectation to join the family business, the guilt of being supported while you do a marketing internship and living in East London, the freeing feeling of being able to talk loudly, and at length with people who are brief soulmates in the middle of a James Blake set.

It’s Wednesday today – we’re worn out. Tomorrow we vote Green in the General Election. A dawning of a new era for Britain, all brought about from the positive energy of the Glastonbury festival. It really isn’t like anywhere else in the world. THE vibe.