So I never went to Glastonbury. Because it wasn’t Woodstock. And I truly, madly, deeply wanted to go to Woodstock. But my mum refused permission. On the grounds that I was 13 and it was in New York. In the days when traveling to Bournemouth was considered ‘exotic’ and going to Europe was only for the rich and privileged. Typical controlling, over-parenting behaviour, depriving young kids of a unique opportunity to experience all the sex, drugs and rock’n’roll they could ever dream of, in one long weekend, in Upstate New York.

Because at Woodstock they had all bands we really loved. The ‘album bands’. Who never made anything as tacky and commercialised as ‘singles’ because 3 minutes at 45rpm simply couldn’t demonstrate the artistic wonders they had available. The only band present who’d ever had a number 1 hit was Sly & the Family Stone. Who were so cool they were forgiven their probably rather lucrative forays into the pop charts.

1969 was the year when the kids took over. And an estimated 500,000 descended on Yasgur’s farm. Some had tickets, most didn’t. Was of no consequence, they’d underestimated the demand and had no infrastructure to check tickets or keep people out. Out of half a million people, the AVERAGE age of whom was 22, over 200,000 were women. And yet there was only 3 bras in the entire area. 2 of those worn by transvestites.

The Who played there but no Stones, no Beatles. The majority were good ole American bands and singers, full of anti-Vietnam war and anti-establishment passion. But unlike Kneecap, these were not advocates of military revolution and violence. The opposite. They were anti (Vietnam) war and advocates of ‘lurve’ and peace. The hippy agenda. Aided by all the drugs which made you mellow.

Crosby Stills and Nash were there, Joe Cocker, Dylan and of course, the grand finale was Jimi Hendrix. On the basis that no-one could ever upstage Jimi. He finished the festival with his famous rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. Played with irony because Woodstock hated the government and establishment who were sending all the country’s 19 year-old men to the far east to get killed. Which was wonderfully summed up in Country Joe’s fabulous anti-war anthem which he played there.

“And its one two three; what are we fighting for?
Don’t ask me, I don’t give a damn.
Next stop is Vietnam.
And its five six seven, open up the pearly gates
And I ain’t got time to wonder why
Whoopee! We’re all gonna die”

Although, just a little ‘spoiler’, in the sad tale of poor, young Andy.

Like virtually everyone else in the world, I didn’t hear about Woodstock until after it happened. I appreciate that made getting there to see it way more difficult. But there was a big splash. They were hoping to get maybe 20,000 people there and ended up with half a million. The images we saw, the bands, the music, the total… love of the event meant no music festival could ever match it. And in the intervening years, none has ever come close.

Hippy Wednesday

A xxxx