It’s what every music festival needs: a politician on a soapbox. The news that British Labour party leader Jeremy Corbyn has been invited to speak at this summer’s Glastonbury gathering means that every self-respecting festival will now want their own politician to come along and make a speech.
David Cameron must be wondering if his invitation to attend the proceedings has gone missing in the 10 Downing Street mailroom. After all, isn’t he far more Glastonbury-friendly than Corbyn, given how middle-of-the-road the west country event has become?
The attraction of festivals for politicians is easy to see. There are thousands of potential voters in a field for the weekend. The usual defences are down, they’re in good form, and it’s all peace, love and understanding. A bonus is that the punters can’t really escape especially if someone terrible is on the main stage. It’s also better than another summer school and having to be nice to Michael McDowell.
Of course, some politicians have long enjoyed the attractions of these open-air revels for reasons other than canvassing. There’s a great photo by former Irish Times photographer Terry Thorp in the archives of Michael D Higgins (right) when he was a senator enjoying Bob Dylan’s 1984 show at Slane Castle. The shirt is unbuttoned to the navel, the sandals are on, and the future prez is rocking. There are also photos in the archives of Enda Kenny and Gerry Adams at Bruce Springsteen’s Irish shows, though thankfully there are no bellybuttons or toenails on show.
In recent years, the move by festivals to be about more than just the music means you get far more politicians through the gates than previously, and not just as punters. For the politician, the invitation to speak at a festival is an anthropologic adventure as they get to rub shoulders with people who may not vote and certainly don’t vote for them. The politicians largely stay in the arts or non-music area but occasionally, they’ll venture into the wild and realise there’s more to field trips than the National Ploughing Championships.
For the festival, the politician is a cheap date. They won’t be looking for a fee or a few crates of beer like some of the bands (yes, bands like to get paid, festival organisers). They’ll be on time, they don’t require a soundcheck and you won’t find them hanging around like a bad smell six hours after their appearance.
It helps that Corbyn and Glastonbury are perfectly matched. Other politicians too would work well at some events. We’d love to see, for instance, Donald Trump rallying the EDM bros at Electric Daisy Carnival or Ultra.
The Electric Picnic could quit with making politicians think they’re hip and make room for the Healy-Rae brothers to explain their masterplan about how to take over an entire county. You could easily fill a tent with that.
