Glastonbury is all things to all people, and in 2025 the megafest offers a banquet of beastly rock and alternative acts. So join us down on the farm as we try to avoid sunburn and cram in as many bands as possible…
Well, we certainly got our steps in at Glastonbury this year, navigating the country's largest festival in the glorious sunshine to find the latest and greatest to grace the Somerset weekender – from Weezer to Biffy Clyro, and Turnstile to Amyl And The Sniffers, it's a veritable parade of K! favourites.
So come with us as we slap on the factor 50 and sprint across the healing fields to find the heaviest, hottest bands that Worthy Farm has to offer…
The lower the bassist's guitar strap, the more they know their shit, right? It certainly seems the case for Northern Ireland’s Ash, who are no strangers to the farm – back in 1997, still in their teens, they were drafted in to headline the Pyramid Stage at the last minute. Today, beneath the yellow hue of the Avalon tent, they're back and belting out the pop-rock classics they're known and loved for. Girl From Mars and Burn Baby Burn go down a storm, as frontman Tim Wheeler grins throughout, holding his guitar to the ceiling and celebrating their return with a joyous “Fuck yeah!” They even find time for a speedy, rocked-up cover of the calypso classic (and Beetlejuice belter) Jump In The Line, just for an added dash of festival spirit.
Today’s first patch of cloud arrives at the suntrap that is the West Holts stage, as Denzel Curry positively conquers the space in a dangerous display of the brewing ferocity that he knows how to deliver so well. Having just torn through Outbreak Fest, the Floridian rapper has fans sprinting to the stage with his effortless charisma and confidence, as he bosses through ACT A DAMN FOOL and HOT ONE. Pits open and rev into gear without need for request, and Denzel’s natural ease and flow with his accompanying DJ Poshtronaut feels warm and inviting, like we’re all part of the same team.
What makes Biffy Clyro so great is their duality of rugged rock and sweetly swooned ballads. They make us sweat and cry in equal measure, which may be of some relief to the shrivelled grass of the Pyramid area. This set is a masterclass in both joy and professionalism, with every element finely tuned. A warm tribute to the Beach Boys' Brian Wilson is particularly touching, as frontman Simon Neil gets the tens of thousands gathered to sing along to God Only Knows in his honour. By contrast, Bubbles turns the crowd into a collection of pogo sticks, and tender closer Many Of Horror captures the magic of Glasto among the waving flags and sweet, cooling air. Simon lifts his guitar to the sky, bending its strings to a point of shrieking tension in a fitting Biffy fuckin’ Clyro goodbye.
Throughout the eight years that The Amazons have been away from Glastonbury, they’ve certainly grafted their way to a much higher level. The Reading rockers' appearance at Woodsies lands hot on the heels of new album 21st Century Fiction, and with their set offering a generous serving of its material, everything feels classy, smooth and incredibly polished. Vocals from across the band blend as one, and the guitar work in Joe Bought A Gun is particularly gnarly, carried by low and filthy riffs. As they close out with beloved hit Black Magic, the trio give it one last bit of oomph, with vocalist and guitarist Matthew Thomson clamouring to the floor, letting the triumph devour him.
Bob Vylan have graduated from last year's Left Field set to the much larger West Holts stage, pulling a huge crowd in the process – although it seems many are here to claim a spot for Kneecap on next. What controversy was expected of the Belfast rappers, however, Bob Vylan do ten times over. Frontman Bobby Vylan brings out his daughter for Dream Big, an inspiring performance in which he urges her to go after everything she wants, while new, unreleased track Slam Dunk is especially thunderous. But that's all academic. Bobby's chant of "Death, death to the IDF" has led to the band being investigated by the police, endless headlines, condemnation by the Prime Minister and Jewish groups, and calls for BBC director-general Tim Davie to resign after it was aired live on TV. With the band reportedly dropped by their agents and management, and later having their U.S. visas revoked, the fallout from their set is felt long after it ends.
It’s somehow been 30 years since Weezer last graced Worthy Farm, and according to Rivers Cuomo, not a lot has changed. Glasto may look the same, but things are different for Weezer now. Back then they were just getting started, but today feels like a legend slot of sorts, even if it’s not official on paper. They breeze through timeless anthems from their Blue and Green albums, as the big screens abreast the Other Stage flash up countless Weezer hand signs. Across Hash Pipe and My Name Is Jonas, the band remain their traditionally nonchalant selves, but glimmers of personality eventually break through as Rivers adds his own quirks into their tracks, changing Beverly Hills to Glastonbury Hills. With such a summer-friendly catalogue and legions of fans across the world, it surely won't be such a long wait for the kings of losercore to return.
As Amy Love and Georgia South rock up on the Woodsies stage, most people are flagging like wilted plants. It’s no concern for Nova Twins, though. Powered up and zinging through Cleopatra, the duo beam throughout, offering the occasional lip curl and snarl – a flashing sign not to mistake the joy on their faces as something frivolous. We even get to hear a new, unreleased song, for which they lead a chant to spell out ‘N-O-V-A’, and Choose Your Fighter has Worthy Farm going bananas. Like a cold shower, a once-sleepy Woodsies is zapped back to life. No big deal, just another day in the office for the Twins.
Aussie punks Amyl And The Sniffers are on a whole other realm of cool – the kind of cool that’s never forced. Like a suncatcher, Amy Taylor glistens in the late afternoon rays in her striking blue make-up and bedazzled star-clad outfit. Her zest for the live show is as prevalent as ever as they smash out a performance of Knifey, which they dedicate to women, non-binary people and the trans community. It’s an anthem for those who have ever felt unsafe for simply living. Wrapping up with Hertz, Worthy Farm and the Sniffers are equally as raucous. Pulling off a set like this, they’re surely working their way to headliner status.
Brighton’s lairy duo are Glasto pros at this point. Though placed on a smaller stage this year compared to a giant performance at Woodsies in 2024, the tent is packed out and ready to go. Both Phoebe Lunny and Selin Macieira (FKA Lilly) are ringleaders of controlled chaos, conducting a safe space for unleashing a frenzied, communal fury in numerous pits. Their set is on-brand, fuelled by their champion tactic of crushing their activism into wise-cracking anthems like a pill hidden in a piece of cheese. They know they’re preaching to the choir at Left Field, but it doesn’t make their set any less vital. Blasting through Company Culture and Bad Apple, and ending with party anthem Cuntology 101, it’s collective therapy, like a musical rage room.
Sprints excel themselves today. Having grown in confidence and professionalism tenfold, they take to the Woodsies stage with gale force – Cathedral stands out as a highlight for its galloping rhythm and impressive showcase of their shared guitar work. And to top it off, they only go and bring out Kate Nash for a spritely cover of her huge hit Foundations. A no-nonsense rock show, it’s a worthy watch.
Turnstile are the perfect proposition today. The band’s following is almost cult-like, while their signature colour block aesthetic and fresh approach to hardcore is even more mesmerising when put in a live space. Their set is tight and snappy, with no bravado – just fucking great music. As they send the crowd away with BIRDS, it hits hard how they truly are like no other. From the way they play with percussion to the varying textures and sounds they incorporate into their music, a ‘Turnstile summer’ would be, well, never enough. A band that will go on to conquer every season.
St. Vincent is glitchy and fantastic, moving in tandem with the instrumental stabs of Broken Man. Her suit jacket and matching shorts are almost symbolic: she’s the boss. And yet, among her rock star, taking-care-of-business attitude, Annie Clark is sure as hell here for pleasure too. She locks herself into a guitar duel with her fellow axe-wielder, with both their instruments growing so close as they battle it out the strings are essentially kissing. It’s a set that’s incredibly hot, a little bit kooky, and oh-so tantalising.
“Taking on the system is badass, and it should sound like it,” exclaims grandson. He’s right, and by soundtracking today’s closing set at Left Field, the revolution certainly does sound good. His performance of 6:00 – which explores police brutality – even has the security and stewards bopping along. Incredibly articulate with his activism, the man also known as Jordan Benjamin pauses multiple times amongst songs to explain the messages behind the words in a way that's clear and digestible. Despite the gathering here being a little sparse, he faces the task with courage and fire beneath his feet. “We are small but we are mighty,” he tells us, reflecting his prevailing message: the power of the people. Be it big or small, will always prevail.
We can’t possibly think of a more perfect way to wrap up Glasto than to party with The Prodigy. Kicking off our great goodbye, the rave pioneers don’t go easy, bringing along a spectacular laser show that helps make them simultaneously ferocious and completely bewitching. With the show feeling so special, Maxim pays tribute to the late Keith Flint, reminding us that he’s here in spirit, propelling the chaos that unfolds as they blast through massive tunes from Omen to Firestarter. The energy from these absolute ragers is gorgeously evil, and Glasto gladly takes it on board. The most criminal part, though, is that their time doesn’t feel long enough. We’re still crying for more as they wrap up with Out Of Space, a trippy goodnight lullaby.
This might be it for two more years, but there's no better band to close a festival.
Read this next:
