In praise of Jay-Z

After the promotional giant Mean Fiddler took over organisation of the Glastonbury festival in 2004, cynics argued that the move was symbolic of the demise of music festivals in general: once a bastion of anti-establishment sentiment, Glastonbury had become complacent, corporate and disingenuous. The fact that Glastonbury’s organiser, Michael Eavis (now succeeded by his daughter Emily), pioneered the very concept of a music festival has, if anything, worked against him. How could a man responsible for capturing so much revolutionary spirit concede to the pressures of sponsorship and security? Critics branded the new Glastonbury as an overpriced, cocaine-fuelled blowout for thirtysomething media types, proclaiming its originality while slipping into bland homogeneity.

So Emily Eavis’s decision this year to book rapper Jay-Z as the Saturday night headliner should have been greeted with the respect such progression deserves. For me, the most enjoyable part of Glastonbury has always been the sense of discovery and surprise which wandering around the site grants you. Avoid the main stages and you’ll come across anything from a capella hip hop to comedy groups. By booking Jay-Z, Eavis junior has extended that element of surprise, displaying the type of innovation that made Glastonbury famous in the first place. Yet many commentators have blamed the Jay-Z booking for the festival's sluggish ticket sales—they’re still available a month and half after going on sale, compared with last year when they sold out in an hour and a half.

That said, the festival’s heritage meant that it has always primarily been a gathering of guitar-based bands, with the occasional dance act and dazzling light show in the name of spectacle. This has undoubtedly provided a template for the majority of other British festivals, and it would not be unfair to blame Glastonbury, albeit indirectly, for the ubiquitous nature of the British rock weekend. Certainly, it is down to the success of the festival that smaller gatherings, like the Secret Garden Party, are so rapidly incorporated into the mainstream circuit: being quaint, leftfield and a little rough around the edges is authentic, and conglomerates appreciate that there is no better marketing handle than authenticity. There are, of course, festivals which focus on eclecticism, such as Southbank’s Meltdown (hosted by Massive Attack this year), but they remain in the minority.

So who better than Glastonbury to shake off the dusty idea that a festival headliner must possess a back catalogue of anthems? Why not introduce something as burlesque and theatrical as a large-scale hip hop show? Noel Gallagher’s snipe that ‘Glastonbury is no place for hip hop’ smacks of ingratitude, traditionalism and even xenophobia. The accusation that the festival has betrayed its roots by booking a hip hop act carries with it a profound misunderstanding: that Glastonbury is allied with one particular musical genre, and that by such an alliance it is unconsciously exclusive. Nothing could be further from the truth.