Glastonbury Review: The Churnups / The Foo Fighters

June 23, 2023

Bless the bloggers and Glasto. It’s ten minutes until the Churnups take the stage and they’re still trying to pretend it’s a mystery, even though there’s aliens on Mars who know it’s going to be Foo Fighters. But that’s fine, because the crowd is every Foo Fighters fan in a 100 mile radius.

The metaphorical curtain goes down, and there’s a huge Foo Fighters logo, then there’s Dave Grohl with his guitar, prowling the stage. A vast crowd breathes a sigh of relief that they’ve not fought to the front to be confronted with Coldplay or something. Dave immediately breaks into the hits.

In a sense, nothing else matters beyond the fact Dave seems to be enjoying this. The greatest thing we can see all weekend is Dave enjoying his music, and oh boy is he. He tells us he’s only got an hour and he’s going to get in all the bangers we want.

Hit after hit follows, and Dave (and the rest of the band) don’t play like rockstars at the top of their game, they play like people possessed with the raw energy of survival and giving every moment everything. The show is phenomenal, the energy is extraordinary. When Dave’s daughter Violet joins him for a song about his mother, tearing up is mandatory.

If Royal Blood thought Radio 1 was a tricky gig, they now have to follow this hour long effusion of pure rock joy.

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