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Wet Leg are playing over on the Other stage, showing Inhaler what actual star quality looks like.
Wet Leg’s Rhian Teasdale. Photograph: Yui Mok/PA Photograph: Yui Mok/PA Photograph: Yui Mok/PAShareInhaler’s Elijah Hewson. Photograph: Andy Rain/EPA
Wandered past Inhaler after Jalen Ngonda and there was something actually eerie about the total void where tunes should be – like all the signifiers of a good rock band (handsome singer; strutting and noisy music; black clothing) but nothing to hold them together. Felt like being in some purgatorial Matrix where the AI hasn’t fully worked out how to write songs. Eeek!
ShareGwilym Mumford
Dynamo made an impromptu trip to the Guardian’s trailer at Glastonbury to perform a series of illusions in front of a rapt crowd of passers-by. He managed to turn cut up pages of the Guardian newspaper into £20 notes, a trick that could prove helpful given the current state of print media. Another bit of sorcery saw him turn a pack of cards into one giant 10 of hearts. But the biggest ooh came where he drew an x on a festivalgoer’s hand and then transferred it to the palm of her other (closed) hand. Dynamo will be speaking to the Guardian’s Zoe Williams at the Astrolabe theatre tomorrow, 11am.
ShareBen Beaumont-Thomas
Hi everyone, Ben taking over from Shaad who is off to see English Teacher and presumably melt faster than a Calippo – Glastonbury-goers are getting toasted in some major afternoon heat and there are some extremely English sunburn lines on show, like some kind of pink and red op art.
ShareBen Beaumont-Thomas
This fantastically dressed pair – half gladiator garb, half Berlin fetish wear – had the best hands-in-the-air reception of the weekend so far, purely by firing a Karcher pressure washer into the crowd.
Glastonbury 2025 – punters shoot a pressure washer into the crowd. Photograph: Ben Beaumont-Thomas/The GuardianShare
Updated at 16.01 BST
Jalen Ngonda reviewed!
Ben Beaumont-Thomas
Park stage, 14.00
The nebulous and ever-quested-for “festival vibes” cohere quite spectacularly here, as the England-dwelling US retro soul singer fires a beam of pure crowdpleasure across the baking hot Park audience. His high croon sounds like something dug up by a boutique cratedigging label from the late 60s midwest, boyish and even androgynous in tone, and he puts it to use on a series of genial, gently funky songs.
The tempo switches, though, as he shifts to solo piano for a rapturous cover of The Look of Love, trading the slight timidity of Dusty Springfield on the original for a full-throated, almost desperate declaration of love. It’s stunning, and more than one audience member flings their arms wide, seemingly involuntarily, at the beauty of it all. Ngonda has been touring his album Come Around and Love Me for a couple of years now and you rather hope he gets back in the studio soon – but he could easily do another two years of acclaimed festival dates with a set as pan-generationally appealing as this.
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Ca7riel and Paco Amoroso reviewed!
Safi Bugel
West Holts, 13.00
Until very recently, the Argentine duo Ca7riel and Paco Amoroso were little known in the UK. Then came their Tiny Desk session in October, which brought them practically overnight fame. This afternoon’s performance at West Holts (one of a 53-date global tour) is testament to that impact: it’s packed out with fans who sing along to their funk-tinged, meme-referencing pop songs word-for-word, despite almost all of the lyrics being in Spanish.
Framed by two huge chad-filtered images of themselves, the pair swagger out in gigantic PVC trousers pinned up by superstenders. As in their famous Tiny Desk, they sing and perform understated yet silly choreo from their stools for the first half of the set, while their rhythm section (also in matching outfits) waltz through their silky-smooth, percussive instrumentals. They keep chatter to a minimum, but their quiet charisma and catchy songs are enough to keep things energetic: tracks like Baby Gangsta and Ri Forra are already received like classic hits.
About half-way through, the tone switches: the stools are taken aside and their sunshine-ready rhythms are swapped for Project X-ready EDM bangers. The pair take it in turns to perform their previous solo material: Mcfly for Ca7riel, Todo El Dia for Paco Amoroso (the latter leads to the most endearing mosh-pit I’ve ever seen). Throughout, they uphold their signature mock-bad boy personas, flexing their muscles and holding their crotches as they sing about ‘Raris and Louis V, “chauffers and hoes”.
In many ways Ca7riel and Paco Amoroso’s music is perfect for the chronically online: they rap knowingly about hashtags and OnlyFans; their hook-heavy tracks rarely push beyond the 3-minute mark. But despite the in-jokes and commitment to the bit, the music is strong; they deliver a tight, confident performance for the full hour, which frequently climaxes in their frenetic percussive breakdowns. And when the music drops and the audience join in for a full-blown acapella, you know they’re bona fide popstars.
Ca7riel and Paco Amoroso wearing waders at West Holts stage. Photograph: Jonny Weeks/The GuardianFans watching the Argentine duo. Photograph: Jonny Weeks/The GuardianShare
Updated at 15.48 BST
BREAKING: Ammar Kalia ran into Mel C at the Supergrass show. He asked “Do you like Supergrass?” and she replied “Yes.” You heard it here first, folks!
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Myles Smith reviewed!
Jason OkundayeMyles Smith performs at Woodsies. Photograph: Scott A Garfitt/Invision/AP
Woodsies, 12.45pm
If ever there was a formula for breaking beyond the constraints of the term “TikTok artist”, Luton-based singer-songwriter Myles Smith has found it: his career is the result of a winning combination of timing, exposure and unmistakable talent. Blowing up online after posting acoustic renditions of songs by Hozier and the Neighbourhood, Smith has since drummed up over half a billion streams for his viral track Stargazing, picked up a Brits rising star award, a spot on Obama’s annual end-of-year playlist and an opening slot on Ed Sheeran’s tour. Smith, palpably excited, tells the crowd: “I’ve been on tour with the ginger prince but nothing beats Glastonbury man!”
Smith skips onstage carrying a guitar and immediately launches into Wait For You. There is a child-like zeal and cheer in his face, which makes his bold, soulful vocals feel all the more effortless. He has evidently built a strong discography and the crowd is familiar with it – Behind, Whisper and Solo all meet knowing hand claps and whoops. And if you’re unfamiliar, Smith wears his influences well enough that you have points of reference – Sheeran, of course, but also Green Day, Mumford & Sons, George Ezra and Tom Odell.
At moments though, despite Smith’s obvious soul, it feels as though real emotion is lost to the folksy feel-good vibes: there is no real difference in mood between a song about heartbreak and one about being at the side of a lover. That also means that tracks soon begin to feel impersonal, derivative and bland: River with its nondescript lyrics “you’ll never be alone, I’ll be by your side” feels like it could soundtrack the most romantic moment of an Ice Age film.
That is not to dismiss the strength of the performance or of Smith’s talent. The sunshine folksiness is the perfect aperitif. He is clearly humbled by the sheer size of the crowd, saying “last year I was playing to 80 people in a pub in Manchester, this year look how many of you turned up” (and it’s an intimidating beat having followed up Lorde’s secret-not-so-secret Woodsies opener). But I long for some moodiness, some real grungy, filthy production he can sink his teeth into so that his gorgeous voice is not simply spent on sentimental schmaltz. Sound a little pissed off or aggrieved, maybe. Smash your guitar.
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Updated at 15.04 BST
CMAT is sounding great from the small, dank hut where I write my special live blog, and the pictures coming through look pretty spectacular. We’ll have Alexis Petridis’ full review of the show up here soon!
CMAT on the Pyramid stage. Photograph: Yui Mok/PAShare
Updated at 15.02 BST
David Levene – The Guardian’s unofficial mayor of Glastonbury – got a preview of the revamped Shangri-La, the festival’s hedonistic wonderland. The site’s eco-conscious new look is pretty spectacular:
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John Glacier reviewed!
Ben Beaumont-Thomas
Park stage, 12.45pm
John Glacier’s flow stands alone in the UK and indeed anywhere. Sometimes she’s steadily, carefully hyping herself up as if daring to believe her own skill; at others she raps in a conspiratorial murmur, like the magnetic Heaven’s Sent, delivered here at a daringly low volume which makes her all the more magnetic. Other times, as on wonderful UK garage ballad Ocean Steppin’, she sounds breezy and resigned to whatever fate has in store for her. Perhaps there’s a touch of Dean Blunt at times, or Neneh Cherry’s most introspective moments, but there really is no one wandering a path like her; pausing to reflect then giving a stoic shrug and pressing on.
There are some problems with her monitors – she almost ends the set a song early after cheerily flouncing away from some dodgy onstage sound – but it all sounds great out in the crowd. The bass feels a touch high at times and obscures some details, but equally, the overwhelming, ether-dominating vibration fits the music so well at others: “On the rocks, on the waves / Feeling like I’m never sure,” she raps on Nevasure, that bass sweeping her out to sea on a dark tide. She has a lovely intimacy with her DJ, so different your standard hip-hop hype man – during Ocean Steppin’ they pass a two litre bottle of water back and forth and Glacier vapes a little, a couple of friends having a content little moment. There’s a low-key charm to the whole set, but a deep, strange drama churning beneath it.
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Updated at 14.06 BST