There’s something about mountains. My dad wrote guide books about climbing mountains - some of my earliest memories are of being shoved in a rucksack, strapped to his back and taken up cold mountains, occasionally sticking my head out of the bag, thinking, ‘Fuck this!’ and sticking it back in! It was quite traumatising! It’s part of what’s formed me as a person. As a kid, I used to live right underneath this mountain. I’d escape up it when I was little, climb up 3,000 feet and hide from the world.
I don’t think of Glastonbury as a place not to do things – maybe it’s a place to not worry about seeing anything in particular, just wander around chancing upon stuff and try things out you wouldn’t usually do. When I played there with Super Furry Animals in 1999, some guy on acid tried to drive a van through the audience. It was incredibly dangerous. He got 100ft from the stage before he gave up due to the volume of people – who climbed on top and started to use the van as a podium. He went nuts and tried to throw people off. And when that didn’t work, he just joined in, dancing on the roof. We were playing a 20-minute version of The Man Don’t Give a Fuck with members of Mogwai dressed as aliens, with fists in the air – the international sign of protest. It was utter chaos – but beautiful – as this violent van driver got, as Stephen Stills would say, “loved out of the situation” by the rest of the crowd.