It’s a rare thing for me to feel proud of being British; I am generally too self conscious of all the history and agendas, but on Sunday night dancing under the heavens it felt as if all could be forgiven.

The final night of the Glastonbury Abbey Extravaganza started well with Scotsman Paolo Nutini gracing the stage. I shouldn’t like Mr Nutini as my wife loves his songs, he has been in the charts quite successfully and hundreds of girls and expensively dressed scruffians wear his t-shirts and scream his name. I find myself instantly drawn to his cartoon stance. His refusal to stand straight or even open his eyes charms me. It’s in a strange way like watching Pinocchio sing ‘I have no strings’, for here is a man free of image consultants doing something he needs to do, rather than some one with a prompt sheet. Singing a mixture of his own songs and a few crowd pleasers, for good measure, Paolo’s voice is a beautiful thing. Covering the Moby track, ‘Natural Blues’, I can’t help but think that this is a voice that Alan Lomax would have loved to record. Later, while introducing the new song ‘55-1’ Nutini says: “If you don’t understand what I’m saying – it’s all good” and I for one could not agree more.

After some lovely cider and ice cream and with the sun beginning to dip deep into the historic surroundings, Ray Davies came to the stage unleashing an undeniable energy to the crowd. In an age where lyrics seem less relevant than the artist’s bloging abilities, we have before us a songwriting giant. More history than most could remember, more passion than most could muster, Ray Davies is here to remind people what music is for.

His carefully spun tales of claustrophobic life rub shoulders with his stories of love and loss, all retaining that truthful energy and raw passion. Starting off with a selection of songs the crowd are not so familiar with, Ray works on them, demonstrating that showmanship and not repetition can engage.

He wins over more and more of the audience, including my originally sceptical wife, then like a fine magician starts pulling rabbits from the hat. Introducing Sunny Afternoon as “A bit of a joke that became a monster”, you can’t help but see (especially with the big screen assistance) the release in his face as people unabashed join in. Dedicating ‘Celluloid Heroes’ to Ingmar Bergman and Tony Wilson, the band start into a song that I am embarrassed to say I had never heard before. I was hanging on every line, every syllable and every clever little couplet. It’s rare to catch all or any of the lyrics of a live performance but these were as clear as if we were sat in my living room.

As the crescendo of hits kept coming it was hard to believe that Ray and The Kinks are not as highly credited as the Beatles. His enthusiasm for the music and the audience he is sharing it with is euphoric, leading us onward and upward with ‘You Really Got Me’ and finishing his second encore with the joyous ‘Lola’. Only the dead and the drunken failed to sing along now.

Finally, the fireworks erupted, signalling the end of the show. Big, bright and loud as they were they only just drowned out the chants for more. Stepping over the best laid rugs of our new friends and family and smelling the cordite in the air, I felt strangely well placed, surrounded by the mythical history of this place I have seen the past the present and hopefully the future. I survey my fellows, countrymen and all, singing words I didn’t know I knew, and feel good. This is my Britain.

Dan Parker

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