Latest news with #musicFestival
CBC
15-07-2025
- Entertainment
- CBC
Winnipeg Folk Fest sets new attendance record
The Winnipeg Folk Festival broke a new attendance record over the weekend, organizers of the annual event said Tuesday. A daily average of 15,171 paying fans attended the 2025 edition of the four-day festival at Birds Hill Provincial Park, breaking a previous record set in 2019, festival spokesperson Lee-Anne Van Buekenhout said in a statement. Single-day tickets for two out of four days also sold out, Buekenhout said. The new attendance record was set during the festival's 50th season. Several performers who appeared at the first Winnipeg Folk festival in 1974 — including Bruce Cockburn and Cathy Fink — returned to perform at the anniversary event. The festival wasn't held in 2020 and 2021 because of the COVID-19 pandemic. The 51st edition of the Winnipeg Folk Festival is slated for July 9 to 12, 2026.
BreakingNews.ie
12-07-2025
- Entertainment
- BreakingNews.ie
‘Free Palestine' gets biggest cheer as Fontaines DC perform at Glasgow festival
Chants of 'free Palestine' saw some of the biggest cheers of the evening as Fontaines DC performed the penultimate Saturday set of a music festival in Glasgow. Many in the crowd were seen donning the Irish Tricolour, while others brought Palestine flags. Advertisement Near the end of the show, a massive Palestine flag was put on screen in the middle of the stage, while huge screens flanked on either side of the stage read: 'Israel is committing a genocide use your voice.' The crowd erupted as frontman Grian Chatten dedicated their popular song 'Favourite' to the Scottish city they were playing in. 'Glasgow is home away from home,' he told the tens of thousands of fans who braved 30-degree weather to see them live. 'We love you. This song is for you.' Advertisement Thousands turned out for the second day of TRNSMT at Glasgow Green (Lesley Martin/PA) Thousands sang along to the tune in the latter half of the Dublin group's set. Fontaines DC were the penultimate performance on Saturday ahead of headliners Biffy Clyro. But it was clear that many youngsters, many of whom wore band merch, had turned up with for the Fontaines, who are known for their songs I Love You and Starbuster. Many at the upper ends were seen lying on the ground as the heat took its toll, with hundreds fanning themselves as the day went on. Advertisement But the crowd, who matched the energy of Fontaines DC, even far away from the stage. It is the second day of the festival, following on from performances from 50 Cent and The Script on Friday. The hot weather is set to continue into Sunday with temperatures around 26C expected. Pop star Gracie Abrams will take on the second last slot ahead of the final act of the festival, Snow Patrol. Advertisement
The Guardian
02-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
I wrote off Glastonbury as a ‘white' festival – until I finally went
Hello and welcome to The Long Wave. This weekend I was at Glastonbury reviewing the bands with the Guardian's music team; it was my second year at the legendary arts and music festival, and I've become a total convert, preaching the glory of Worthy Farm after years of assuming that an event like it wasn't for someone like me. How Black culture belatedly found a home at Worthy Farm In recent years, Glastonbury has come under fire for the perceived whiteness of the event. In 2022, the Black British comedy legend Lenny Henry said in a Radio Times interview that 'it's interesting to watch Glastonbury and look at the audience and not see any Black people there' – even if a Black artist had a key billing. Stormzy's headline set in 2019, considered one of the most electrifying in Glastonbury's long history, was the first solo headliner ever by a Black British artist; even festival organiser Emily Eavis seemed embarrassed that it had taken so long. Much more damaging to Glastonbury's image, however, was Noel Gallagher's response to Jay-Z being announced as a headliner for the festival in 2008. The Oasis songwriter called it 'wrong', claiming that hip-hop had no place on Worthy Farm – opinions that he later recanted. When tickets sold slowly for Glastonbury that year, some commentators blamed Jay-Z's presence on the bill – rather than the terrible weather of the year before. I was only 11 in 2008, but I remember that my parents, hip-hop fans themselves, were infuriated by the backlash. To them, it demonstrated the constraints placed on Black people's careers, as well as a reminder that, regardless of success or achievement, there were spaces in this country in which we still weren't welcome. Certainly, for a long time I had no interest in attending Glastonbury. That's not so much down to my music taste – I love a lot of pop and rock music, and some of my most anticipated sets last year were Avril Lavigne and Coldplay (for my sins), and this year, Lorde and Charli xcx. If I could travel back in time to catch a set it would be Lana Del Rey in 2023. But there was also this lingering idea that camping and not showering for days just to see live music was 'something white people did'. From Fela Kuti to Beyoncé, the legends that paved the way Evidently, Glastonbury's image as a forum for white, male rock stars still lingers – and a Sunday afternoon slot for Rod Stewart this year, who the day before suggested that the country should embrace Nigel Farage, will have set things back a bit. Yet it has not always been this way. In the 1980s, Glastonbury increasingly became a home for international Black music. The American 'gentle genius' Curtis Mayfield became the first Black headliner at Glastonbury in 1983. That same year, King Sunny Adé became the first Nigerian artist to perform at the festival. The roots reggae band Black Uhuru (who returned to Glastonbury this year after a near four-decade absence) were headliners in 1984. Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti's Pyramid stage set that year, with 20-piece band Egypt 80, with its storming political messages and confrontations of authority and broken democracy, is widely regarded as one of Glastonbury's most iconic performances. Skunk Anansie headlined the Pyramid stage in 1999, making singer Skin the first Black woman to do so. Since then, Kendrick Lamar, SZA and Beyoncé have served as headliners – Beyoncé defying the same accusations of inauthenticity and non-belonging that her husband did, three years after Jay-Z silenced his critics with a shutdown performance. Naturally though, Black cultural progress often fluctuates. Last year, our arts and culture correspondent Lanre Bakare wrote that the increase in Black artists at the festival (among them Janelle Monáe, Burna Boy and Little Simz) reflected a 'cultural shift', and that while Black festivalgoers had to work to overcome 'psychological barriers', they were breaking through in order to experience what is surely one of the greatest festivals in the world. I think that is true for me, too. My approach to Glastonbury is to embrace the eclecticism of its lineup. I attended sets by artists I've never heard playing music I'd never usually listen to, that cliche of broadening your horizons. I found myself strangely emotional during what was an odd combination of a minimalist piano performance and then DJ set by Breton composer Yann Tiersen, and then imagined myself smelling alpine plants and orchids in a Yakushima forest during Japanese folk singer Ichiko Aoba's show. Glastonbury's power has always resided in its ability to loosen your inhibitions and transport you to other worlds. However, that does not mean it is a space free from the more undignified strata of British society. One white boy asked if I would 'pattern man some loud' (sell him weed); another hit me with a rogue 'wagwan?' and fist bumped me; another saw me in my vest and asked 'How comes Black people get so hench?' But by and by, these were easy to shrug off as business as usual when living in Britain, rather than expressions of hostility. Sign up to The Long Wave Nesrine Malik and Jason Okundaye deliver your weekly dose of Black life and culture from around the world after newsletter promotion A community under canvas I can honestly say that coming to Glastonbury for a second year felt like coming back home. Yes, it is still predominantly white, but there is a thriving and visible Black community: on Saturday, I had the night of my life dancing to Larizzle, one of my favourite DJs, at the Black at Glasto tent at Silver Hayes, a hub for Black culture at Glastonbury launched last year by the community design agency ourppls. I 'glamped' so I can't say that I've exactly beaten my aversion to camping, yet there can be little doubt that other Black Britons are embracing life under canvas. There has been a surge of Black birdwatching groups, hiking clubs, skiing trips – a rebuke to the idea that certain activities are 'for us' and others aren't. The lineup for this year, while perhaps not as stacked as 2024, still offered a banquet of local and international Black talent: Black Uhuru, Ezra Collective, Cymande, Celeste, Doechii. I spoke to Ghanaian-American singer Amaarae, who told me that, as a child, she had watched footage of Amy Winehouse on the West Holts stage, and felt honoured to be performing in the same spot. She added that, though there had been improvements, she had previously viewed the festival as predominantly for white artists. Had she thought she would ever play here? 'I definitely thought that one day I was going to be a star, so it was always an aspiration,' she told me. 'I didn't know how, but I knew that I could make it possible for myself.' Truly, there is no greater force against double consciousness than west African self-belief and manifestation. Nonetheless, Gallagher's claim that rap had no place at Glastonbury lingered in my mind. Stormzy was the first Black British solo artist to headline, but there hasn't been one since. AJ Tracey and Pa Salieu were the only Black British rappers on this year's bill. But then came a twist. Skepta was pulled in at the 11th hour to fill in for an illness-struck Deftones. And in just 30 minutes spitting on the mic, he produced such a thrilling set that you couldn't help but hope the headline spot is his soon. Let's just say that if, when Glastonbury returns in 2027, there's a Skepta and BBK link-up on the Pyramid stage, the streets will be there – by any means necessary. To receive the complete version of The Long Wave in your inbox every Wednesday, please subscribe here.
The Guardian
02-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
I wrote off Glastonbury as a ‘white' festival – until I finally went
Hello and welcome to The Long Wave. This weekend I was at Glastonbury reviewing the bands with the Guardian's music team; it was my second year at the legendary arts and music festival, and I've become a total convert, preaching the glory of Worthy Farm after years of assuming that an event like it wasn't for someone like me. How Black culture belatedly found a home at Worthy Farm In recent years, Glastonbury has come under fire for the perceived whiteness of the event. In 2022, the Black British comedy legend Lenny Henry said in a Radio Times interview that 'it's interesting to watch Glastonbury and look at the audience and not see any Black people there' – even if a Black artist had a key billing. Stormzy's headline set in 2019, considered one of the most electrifying in Glastonbury's long history, was the first solo headliner ever by a Black British artist; even festival organiser Emily Eavis seemed embarrassed that it had taken so long. Much more damaging to Glastonbury's image, however, was Noel Gallagher's response to Jay-Z being announced as a headliner for the festival in 2008. The Oasis songwriter called it 'wrong', claiming that hip-hop had no place on Worthy Farm – opinions that he later recanted. When tickets sold slowly for Glastonbury that year, some commentators blamed Jay-Z's presence on the bill – rather than the terrible weather of the year before. I was only 11 in 2008, but I remember that my parents, hip-hop fans themselves, were infuriated by the backlash. To them, it demonstrated the constraints placed on Black people's careers, as well as a reminder that, regardless of success or achievement, there were spaces in this country in which we still weren't welcome. Certainly, for a long time I had no interest in attending Glastonbury. That's not so much down to my music taste – I love a lot of pop and rock music, and some of my most anticipated sets last year were Avril Lavigne and Coldplay (for my sins), and this year, Lorde and Charli xcx. If I could travel back in time to catch a set it would be Lana Del Rey in 2023. But there was also this lingering idea that camping and not showering for days just to see live music was 'something white people did'. From Fela Kuti to Beyoncé, the legends that paved the way Evidently, Glastonbury's image as a forum for white, male rock stars still lingers – and a Sunday afternoon slot for Rod Stewart this year, who the day before suggested that the country should embrace Nigel Farage, will have set things back a bit. Yet it has not always been this way. In the 1980s, Glastonbury increasingly became a home for international Black music. The American 'gentle genius' Curtis Mayfield became the first Black headliner at Glastonbury in 1983. That same year, King Sunny Adé became the first Nigerian artist to perform at the festival. The roots reggae band Black Uhuru (who returned to Glastonbury this year after a near four-decade absence) were headliners in 1984. Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti's Pyramid stage set that year, with 20-piece band Egypt 80, with its storming political messages and confrontations of authority and broken democracy, is widely regarded as one of Glastonbury's most iconic performances. Skunk Anansie headlined the Pyramid stage in 1999, making singer Skin the first Black woman to do so. Since then, Kendrick Lamar, SZA and Beyoncé have served as headliners – Beyoncé defying the same accusations of inauthenticity and non-belonging that her husband did, three years after Jay-Z silenced his critics with a shutdown performance. Naturally though, Black cultural progress often fluctuates. Last year, our arts and culture correspondent Lanre Bakare wrote that the increase in Black artists at the festival (among them Janelle Monáe, Burna Boy and Little Simz) reflected a 'cultural shift', and that while Black festivalgoers had to work to overcome 'psychological barriers', they were breaking through in order to experience what is surely one of the greatest festivals in the world. I think that is true for me, too. My approach to Glastonbury is to embrace the eclecticism of its lineup. I attended sets by artists I've never heard playing music I'd never usually listen to, that cliche of broadening your horizons. I found myself strangely emotional during what was an odd combination of a minimalist piano performance and then DJ set by Breton composer Yann Tiersen, and then imagined myself smelling alpine plants and orchids in a Yakushima forest during Japanese folk singer Ichiko Aoba's show. Glastonbury's power has always resided in its ability to loosen your inhibitions and transport you to other worlds. However, that does not mean it is a space free from the more undignified strata of British society. One white boy asked if I would 'pattern man some loud' (sell him weed); another hit me with a rogue 'wagwan?' and fist bumped me; another saw me in my vest and asked 'How comes Black people get so hench?' But by and by, these were easy to shrug off as business as usual when living in Britain, rather than expressions of hostility. Sign up to The Long Wave Nesrine Malik and Jason Okundaye deliver your weekly dose of Black life and culture from around the world after newsletter promotion A community under canvas I can honestly say that coming to Glastonbury for a second year felt like coming back home. Yes, it is still predominantly white, but there is a thriving and visible Black community: on Saturday, I had the night of my life dancing to Larizzle, one of my favourite DJs, at the Black at Glasto tent at Silver Hayes, a hub for Black culture at Glastonbury launched last year by the community design agency ourppls. I 'glamped' so I can't say that I've exactly beaten my aversion to camping, yet there can be little doubt that other Black Britons are embracing life under canvas. There has been a surge of Black birdwatching groups, hiking clubs, skiing trips – a rebuke to the idea that certain activities are 'for us' and others aren't. The lineup for this year, while perhaps not as stacked as 2024, still offered a banquet of local and international Black talent: Black Uhuru, Ezra Collective, Cymande, Celeste, Doechii. I spoke to Ghanaian-American singer Amaarae, who told me that, as a child, she had watched footage of Amy Winehouse on the West Holts stage, and felt honoured to be performing in the same spot. She added that, though there had been improvements, she had previously viewed the festival as predominantly for white artists. Had she thought she would ever play here? 'I definitely thought that one day I was going to be a star, so it was always an aspiration,' she told me. 'I didn't know how, but I knew that I could make it possible for myself.' Truly, there is no greater force against double consciousness than west African self-belief and manifestation. Nonetheless, Gallagher's claim that rap had no place at Glastonbury lingered in my mind. Stormzy was the first Black British solo artist to headline, but there hasn't been one since. AJ Tracey and Pa Salieu were the only Black British rappers on this year's bill. But then came a twist. Skepta was pulled in at the 11th hour to fill in for an illness-struck Deftones. And in just 30 minutes spitting on the mic, he produced such a thrilling set that you couldn't help but hope the headline spot is his soon. Let's just say that if, when Glastonbury returns in 2027, there's a Skepta and BBK link-up on the Pyramid stage, the streets will be there – by any means necessary. To receive the complete version of The Long Wave in your inbox every Wednesday, please subscribe here.
Times
01-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Times
Why my new wall leaves all others in the shade
In Plato's Republic the ancient Greek philosopher imagines a cave whose dwellers have never seen the world except as fuzzy shadows cast by objects outside. An inmate ventures out and, amazed at the true forms of things, struggles to explain to his benighted friends. I, too, will struggle: to describe to you the wall that a farmer-friend's son, now a professional dry stone waller, has built at the bottom of our garden. Alex Frost has made a wall of which all other walls are just pale shadows — and done it from irregular lumps of dense, flinty rock, turning chaos into order. This, surely the winning entry in any competition for Top Wall of 2025, has become an object of worship for me as I pull back my bedroom curtains every morning. You, reader, in your cave, have only seen imperfect shadows of dry stone walls. I have now seen the real thing. Speaking of the shadows versus the real thing, don't you feel a certain mismatch between the sound and fury over how British broadcasters ought or ought not to treat a few stupid chants by a couple of forgettable bands at an over-hyped music festival attended by silly middle-class fashion victims, and the apparent gunning down of poor, starving people trying to reach food at an aid-distribution centre in Gaza? Is our media-obsessed self-abuse a kind of displacement activity as we turn our eyes from the unbearable abroad, and fret instead over the shadows at home? And speaking still of the real thing, how to describe the prickling of the hairs on my neck, the shock of the once-familiar, as I looked at the actual handwriting, the thick, bold, blue, felt-tip pen-strokes of the terrifying, inspiring woman I worked for 50 years ago? An old friend who haunts literary events, contributes occasional diary stories to this newspaper and writes the odd column for The Spectator seized his moment at a Thatcher autobiography book-signing decades ago. He handed the old lady a piece of paper and asked her to re-write what she once said about there being 'no such thing as society'. A pesky request, but Mark Mason didn't care — and she obliged. He framed the paper and has now decided to put it up for auction. I saw it last week. All at once, everything came flooding back. The notes I'd get from her advising how to reply on her behalf to inquiring letters from the public ('I HATE the closed shop'; 'Christians believe in the after-life and I am a Christian') — why didn't I keep them? An age in which little of importance is handwritten any more has lost a direct link with a personality, with another human hand. For a spine-tingling moment, I felt that link again. Last week this notebook described the quaint Derbyshire tradition of well dressing: creating pictures with fragments from nature — petals, leaves, bark, pebbles, moss — stuck into wet clay. Just as it was being dismantled last Friday, I caught an impertinent new variation on the Bible themes favoured by well dressers. The chosen quote was from the Gospels, about true greatness lying in the service not of self but of our fellow men. The image consisted of two panels. One was of an anonymous soldier in the Great War, face in shadow, head bowed in mourning for fallen comrades. The other was the golden statue erected to himself that Donald Trump has pictured, towering above the pleasure-seeking riviera he has in mind for the Gazan shore. Enough said. As I write, the Commons is debating the government's now-hamstrung disability benefits bill. As a correspondent on our letters page pointed out, hasn't Kemi Badenoch missed a trick? Opposition MPs could have rescued Labour's original bill. They could perfectly logically have offered their support (or abstention) on a reform they'd already called a step, but too timid, in the right direction. If Sir Keir Starmer thought (as he insisted) that his bill was 'a moral imperative' he could hardly have wrinkled his nose at a source of vital support. Starmer would have got his bill, the nation a moral imperative and Badenoch a cheeky playground victory.
