Saturday

If you’re in any way up in time, head to the Park Stage to see Swedish youngsters First Aid Kit to hear a spot of their compelling, old before their time folk laments... or, um, not, if you’re on a comedown.

Rolf Harris. Hmm. Well, it feels like a Glasto rite of passage. Won’t actually be ‘good’, we wouldn’t expect, but there is a sick fascination in heading over early to the Jazz/World stage to see him. (We will probably be singing along to ‘Sun Arise’). In continued comedy, Eagles Of Death Metal followed by Spinal Tap on the Pyramid is just too good an opportunity to pass up – if there is any truth whatsoever to the notion of ‘Glastonbury moments’ then surely some sort of collaboration can be arranged, seeing as EODM are more or less a Tap tribute act.

If you’d like something a bit more musically satisfying, maybe instead opt for the bittersweet wordiness of friend-to-DiS Emmy The Great over on the Queen’s Head, then perhaps warm up for an evening’s Broooooooooooce-watching with a spot of The Gaslight Anthem, who’ll be bringing their blue-collar ways to the John Peel stage in the late afternoon. Stick around for some fey college-dance wibblings from Passion Pit, or else hotfoot it back to the Pyramid to see how the pop-star incarnation of Dizzee Rascal fares now that the majority of the crowd actually knows some of his songs; brace yourself for a guest appearance from Calvin Harris, mind. Would generally prefer a nice snooze than Crosby, Stills and Nash, but it’s not impossible that Neil Young will pop back out to join them, which would be dead exciting, like.

[EDIT: Reasonably solid internet rumour would have it that The Klaxons have today's Park Stage guest slot. Remember that nu-rave, eh?]

It’ll be a question of timetabling as to whether it’s practical to skip Kasabian and catch somebody else pre-Boss, but if so we’d recommend either the dolorous beauty of Tindersticks on the Acoustic stage, or else the hypnotic weaves of Baaba Maal on Jazz/World duty.

Then it’s Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band. Fair enough, haterz. We’ve heard your objections. He’s old. You’re one of the surprisingly large number of people who still don’t know what the lyrics to ‘Born In The USA’ are actually about. The odour of masculinity and car oil is too strong on him. One listen to ‘Thunder Road’ makes you feel pathetically inadequate about your own torpid excuse for a day-to-day existence. You hate everything that is good in everything. Those are all fine excuses and Jarvis Cocker or Bon Iver are not terrible shouts by way of alternatives. The rest of us will be hollering out blue collar anthems, punching the air like lunatics, and getting vaguely annoyed that Eavis didn’t allow him his customary three hour set time. It will be awesome.

Again, not sure on running times, but the Africa Express Soundsystem over at Club Dada was one of the highs of last year, and Mr Albarn will surely be in attendance, so a hotfoot over after Springsteen is well advised. [EDIT - looks like this will be more than do-able, but still hotfoot it as this is going to be RAMMED]