Why Glastonbury Works + Michael Eavis Being Weird

This article by Sean Michaels in the Guardian seems to suggest that Glastonbury is on borrowed time. Whether this is Eavis on a colossal, sob-strewn comedown now that Shangri-La has been packed up, a cheap attempt at publicity, or possesses a modicum of truth, it’s difficult to believe that an insanely large festival that this year sold out in two hours has anything to worry about. But it has got me thinking about why I had a good time and why the whole thing should be passed on to Emily Eavis before Michael locks himself in his farmhouse screaming and cackling about the cows he can now afford.
 
In many ways Glastonbury shouldn’t really work. It’s huge, it rains, it’s very difficult to get around and you only really get to see about 4 or 5 bands a day. It’s also a real work out. Dragging that mud-encrusted trolley across two miles of crowded, inhospitable terrain can quickly and easily elicit physical pangs of ‘what am I DOING’. Basic human functions start to become endurance tests and real world standards of cleanliness and hygiene begin to fade at an alarmingly swift rate.

But. And although this sounds slightly ridiculous, I think it’s within this arduousness that much of Glastonbury’s appeal lies. It feels like a struggle. But it feels like a rewarding struggle that pays off in kind. Sitting back in the sunshine and listening to Paul Simon is lent all the more pleasure via the short-term memories of how you got to this point (making pasta under a gazebo in the pissing rain the night before, for example).

To many humans, it’s natural to derive particular pleasure in things that have resulted from significant work. We like working as long as we are being rewarded as it seems to satisfy some fundamental, innate urge. And the supply chain which connects many of our ‘work’ to ‘reward’ patterns in everyday, modern life have become compromising complex. Putting in a day at the office doesn’t always result directly in a feeling of reward or fulfilment (this instead tends to take place on pay day).

Part of Glastonbury’s charm therefore exists in a collective simplification of this work/reward binary. The physical effort of dragging a heavy trolley means that you can create your temporary home. The greater effort you put in, the greater environment you are able to create for yourself. The greater this environment, the more pleasurable it is going to be. This explicit, simple cause and effect is inherently satisfying. Glastonbury is just as much about creation as it is about passive enjoyment.

So yes. I hope Eavis comes to his senses. I’ve got some more trolley-hauling to do before this is through.