Haters, YOU are Kanye West - Glastonbury review

Kanye West does not care about you.

He is not interested in your Mum loaning you the money for your big adventure, for your life affirming foray into the great unknown. He doesn't care about your nights out in Brixton, drinking over-priced cocktails in jars, or you growing up on the mean streets of SW19.

He doesn't care that you got Nobby, Roddy, Sammy and Fran to hold the phones so you can try and weed your way into Glasto's broad arms for one last hurrah, with the guys, with the gals you know - for old times sake.

One of my peers on facebook stated 'he would throw a bottle of piss in kanye's face if he saw him.' I questioned him - he told me he knew nothing about him,but read about his show in the Guardian.

The truth about Kanye's performance at Glastonbury is that it didn't all go to plan. Lee Nelson did what Lee Nelson does appealing to the sub-average and caused a break in flow. There were clear problems with the earpiece and the PA that took time to resolve and effected the set. Also, watching the crowd sing every word to 'Gold digger' or 'All Falls Down' it certainly appeared that the crowd enjoyed themselves, despite the ongoing faults. But I am not convinced the music and the set are what the social media trolls are incandescent with rage about

Kanye West believes completely and totally in the timelessness and commercial appeal of a number of his songs. He also believes in the ground-breaking and game changing grandeur of others. He doesn't care about you sitting indoors on a Saturday night with your £8 bottle of wine, feeling more and more cross as Kanye doesn't show the requisite 'respect' for our flagship summer festival.

He isn't sorry that RiRi and Hova were not special guests and brought together for the 33rd time for 'Run This Town.' I guess when you work with the greatest artists and creatives on a daily basis, bringing them out for the Surrey commuter belt's entertainment is not high on his priority list.

The point is that honestly and truthfully, Kanye West does not care what you think. As stated in his recent Q interview, he has over "20 things" on the go at any one time. He didn't expand on this, but given that this is the man who enticed Paul McCartney into Rap Music, for not just one song, for three songs, the 'things' are probably big. They are probably game changing, they probably make Saturday night at Glastonbury seem well....irrelevant?

I can sense the fervour rising in the hinterlands. The backpackers, the Ukippers and the bandwagon jumpers effervescent with anger. I have witnessed this misplaced acrimony on Facebook and Twitter, there are 134,000 people who signed a petition, outraged that this man was allowed to perform. And why? Arrogance and ignorance. But aren't those the same negatives we pick out in Kanye West?

Thanks to the media, we have a subjective and disproportionate view of the real world. To put it in layman's terms you get about 15% of the full picture - you get the picture the corporations want you to see. The media create monsters because monsters are scary, interesting and most importantly they sell (see Pete Doherty - although no-one batted an eyelid at his triumphant return on Friday night - mercifully, the media have moved on here).

The creation of Kimye, Taylorgate, 'The greatest rock star on the planet' are all products of the media, taken out of context and designed to create a subjective viewpoint of our Saturday night headliner. His achievements are irrelevant - that is not what the haters want to hear.

So why did the white middle classes flock to social media to condemn Kanye on Saturday night? Because his set encountered difficulties? Or there was no real stage performance? Maybe because you are a rock n' roll fan and you can't stand rap? All these are possibilities.

The main reason why Kanye caused such a furore, is possibly because he exhibits the same traits that you do. Because damning someone based on a subjective media profile exhibits ignorance. To discount his performance or creative genius because of his arrogance is arrogant. So in essence haters, the same flaws that turn you off Kanye West are the same failings you are demonstrating. In other words, you are Kanye West (without the talent and success, of course).

In other more gentle words and to attempt to end this piece positively, we are all flawed. Kanye West would be the first to mention his and the endless issues that seem to cloud people's perceptions of him. It was Barack Obama who called him a 'jackass' after the Taylor Swift incident. Now Kanye has a direct line and speaks to the President regularly. How many of us can say we have turned a situation around that spectacularly?

Kanye West is human and he is often wrong, as we all can be at times on our respective journeys. However, he knows how to love himself and respect what he has done in this world. If we all could exhibit more of those traits, perhaps there would be more love, more creativity and most importantly, less hate.

The subconscious is a funny, old thing and in the words of Deepak Chopra people are doing their best on the level of consciousness they are at. That said, conformity is easy. Nations are ruled via conformity. Conform to work, to social norms, to condemning those that are different.

Kanye West is different and whether you like it or not, he maybe beyond the understanding of this time. I hear you scoff, but he wouldn't be the first visionary to be scorned in his own lifetime and revered long after.

The Gaslight Anthem - November 22nd, Motorpoint Arena, Cardiff

When I booked the tickets for this show I couldn't have been more excited. Our favourite band, off the back of their most accomplished release to date. Of course, it would have been more practical to see them in London, but why not make a weekend of it? Two tickets, a road trip, a night in a secluded country pub, Gaslight for entertainment. The stars align. 

In the week leading up to the show, my situation changed immeasurably. Gaslight ceased to be our favourite band and became my favourite band. This is what they were eight years ago at the start of a journey. Well, it became obvious that they were that again. My favourite band. 

Life has a funny way of imitating art and I too would stare down the same demons that lead singer Brian Fallon had to. Thirty-four years old and facing divorce, betrayal and heartbreak, it appeared  I would be on a similar voyage. So the options were clear. Travel to Wales in the bleak midwinter: no car, alone, at great cost and see my favourite band. Or take the advice that was thrown at me that week and "don't go, whats the point? It would be cheaper and easier if you didn't." So I packed up an overnight bag and off I went. 

I must say there is something quite liberating about doing things solo. Human beings are creatures of habit and our programming suggests we should be together, with others. After all, you are classed as a 'loser' if you do things on your own. I have a good friend who has spent most of his life in London, single and he urged me to face the demons, enjoy the struggle and go to the show. I did and it was not easy but boy, was it worth it. 

Firstly, the venue. On a night that would be nourishment for the soul, it was sadly a little...soulless? The sound was extremely impressive and the band felt closer than your average arena yet like all mid-range venues, character was lacking. This is a band I have seen own Brixton Academy with their punk guitars creating sonic soundscapes that will live with me forever. So this would be different. 

As the band came on I was halfcut and emotional. Defiantly, I was here though. No-one could take that from me but I was nervous of the songs, wondering what abyss Fallon's poignant pen would drive me into.

The band opened with the fitting 'Have Mercy' which then roared into a blistering '59 Sound.' Lights flashed, guitar's crunched and the world briefly looked the way I remembered it. 

One of the abiding memories I have of the show is Brian's perma-grin; he really enjoyed his job. But how could he? How do these words match the smiling, hopeful man standing in front of his crowd, delivering through the heartache? How many times had he belted out this song, was he not tired of these very chords? 

He was clearly not and maintained a tight ship throughout the show, directing his band through a number of tracks from 'Get Hurt' before the iconic '45' sent the crowd into rapture. 

Fallon interacted regularly, most notably starting a campaign (unsuccessfully) to get Noel Fielding to the venue. This was a man revived, recharged and clearly ready to live again. Hope, I spy. 

If you love the Gaslight Anthem, you love the Gaslight Anthem, its that simple. The words tug on your heartstrings and the soulful Americana takes you to a fairytale dreamland, where Maria serves the drinks and Johnny drives you home in his Papa's pickup truck. The evening was like a dream, a moment in time. Spellbinding, powerful, ebullient.

The band played 28 songs. That's right, 28. B-Sides like 'Halloween' made the set and also old classics '1930' and 'We Came to Dance,' all greeted with the same degree of exuberance and delight from an adoring crowd. 

I was indeed mesmerised and amazed at how tight the band are, the quality of the songs and the passion of the frontman. I did not want the show to end but after the best part of two hours, the final chords of 'The Backseat' played out and I knew the cold, Cardiff night awaited me. I was not sure what else did out there and as I made my way through the plethora of chip boxes and WKD bottles strewn throughout the centre, I knew I would be ok. Yes, I was a few hundred quid down, thanks to a remarkable amount of travelling, I was anxious to be in a city so full of people yet be completely on my own, however hope springs eternal. I knew I would always have the music and I will always have the songs, no matter what life throws at me. 

Getting back on my feet was a journey but I believe this night was perennial in sparking hope and starting the momentum. I know now, 'I'd been shaking in the hands of someone who had finally had enough,' but I also knew there 'was someone out there feeling just like I feel.'

Thanks Brian, Thanks Gaslight.