After Friday's happy discovery that I am still young enough to blend in at a Festival, Saturday provided further reassurances that in a world of change, some things remain the same.
Firstly, Iggy Pop is still acting like a topless cocker spaniel (as opposed to a fully clothed spaniel) and is utterly brilliant. Or as the NME would say, he is performing like the illegitimate lovechild of Iggy Pop and Iggy Pop – on acid. It certainly wasn’t his first Isle of Wight Festival, but it was the best I can remember.
Secondly, I am unable to watch Richard Ashcroft without singing along like a gurning idiot. On the walk back from the site I had a sudden realisation that I took a video almost exactly 10 years ago of a friend and I singing along to Bittersweet Symphony at the Festival with such gusto that I feared Richard Ashcroft himself might put down his microphone and politely ask us to hush down a little. Anyway, I’d kind of forgotten how good he is so it was a nice surprise to find that his material is still brilliant. I'd say his set was my highlight of the Festival.
Thirdly, The Who are still up to headlining a major Festival, as indeed they were more than a decade ago when also headlined (and of course they also played at the Festival in 1970).
Fourthly, England’s footballers will always disappoint you. Indeed, there was a feeling of déjà vu from the 2004 Festival as Russia scored in the final seconds of the match and a thousand fans forlornly walked off muttering under their breath whilst a couple of disproportionately passionate fans yelled abuse at a digital screen, presumably hoping their voices would travel across the water to France.
Finally, Angela Corr is still very good at pouting.
Saturday also offered other amusements and entertainments including Adam Ant, The Kills, Turin Brakes and just enough sunshine to create a few lobsters on Sunday.
Let’s hope the final day offers quite such a warm feeling.
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