It is not all that far, in the context of Glastonbury’s many thigh-burning treks between locations, from the Pyramid to The Other Stage. But on a clear, fresh Saturday night, Megan Thee Stallion’s headline set on the latter felt a world away from Paul McCartney’s slow-build, star-packed marathon over on the former. Or even maybe, at times, like a parallel festival, where there were fringed cowboy hats, LED capes and faux fur boob tubes as far as the eye could see. “If you a real hottie, let me hear you say real hot girl sh*t,” purred the Houston rapper (not for the last time), to rapturous screams, not long after first striding onto the stage in fishnet tights, a thonged, faintly S&M bodice and leather cap.
Still, while her presence in this coveted slot – quite the honour for an act making its first appearance at Worthy Farm – is clearly about offering a clear, stylistic counterpoint to McCartney, there is a timelessness to the control, fearlessness and charisma that makes for such an engaging hour. Tightly coiled, hard-edged and thrillingly profane it was a show with transgressive, flesh-jiggling naughtiness and immense star power.
