Margo Price also joined the 81-year-old singer-songwriter on stage
Normally it’d be quite hard to upstage the lovely, lovely Kris Kristofferson – who turned 81 yesterday, so happy birthday. But when you invite one of the biggest movie stars in the world onto the stage with you, well, then you’re asking for trouble.
Kristofferson’s Friday afternoon set was worthy of Sunday’s now traditional ‘legends’ slot, what with the classic tunes and the charming old person, but this was a little bit different, due to the high calibre guests the country music don decided to invite on stage with him.
Things were weird even before Kris took to the stage, thanks to the presence of another movie actor. Enter Bradley Cooper, stage left, who’s playing guitar with the sound switched off for the benefit of a couple of cameras, evidently filming a new movie and using Glasto as a convenient backdrop. He noodles about for a good few minutes, pulling various rockstar shapes, shredding on the guitar and casually headbanging, before worshipfully introducing Kris. Lovely Kris.
With a face as weather-beaten as Worthy Farm itself, he’s got the same kind of twinkly eyes that your favourite granddad has, but is ever so slightly more badass (sorry, granddads). With a mighty fine tooled leather guitar strap he looks every inch the icon and his voice is as warm and intoxicating as aged whiskey. We are a little bit in love.
The excellent new Nashville artist Margo Price then comes out to accompany him on ‘Me and Bobby McGee’ and just when you think the guests can’t get better Edward Scissorhands himself arrives to gently pluck a guitar along with ‘Sunday Morning Coming Down’ and ‘The Silver Tongued Devil and I’ while wearing a natty cap and Johnny Cash shirt. Men faint, women yell and everyone rushes towards the stage like they’re about to clamber over the barrier and kiss him on the mouth. Actual Brad Pitt watches proudly from the rafters. For truly Glastonbury is the festival of choice for middle aged men going through messy separations.
Same time next year, lads?