Ranking Glastonbury Headliners From Worst to Best

Only the acts I've seen, mind. And only those I saw headline the Pyramid Stage.

Between 2007 and 2023, I went to the Glastonbury Festival 10 times.

They were truly some of the best days I've ever known, and there was a time when I knew that I'd be going to this festival for the rest of my life.

But now it's more expensive than ever, and it's getting harder and harder to get tickets. I'm finding less to love on the lineups each year. The site's getting too big, and large parts of it feel grimly nihilistic, or even outright hostile. I used to think the festival represented humanity at its best. But now I don't know if I'd even feel welcome there anymore.

Will I ever go again? Who knows. But in any case, I'm immensely grateful for the multitude of life affirming experiences I had there over the course of 16 years. As I attended repeatedly in my formative years, it's fair to say that the festival's played a part in making me whatever I am today.

Today I'm ranking every Glastonbury headliner I ever saw in order, from least appealing to most overwhelming. We're sticking to the Pyramid Stage because, when a Pyramid headliner delivers the goods, it really does feel spiritual. Also, if I delved into the numerous other acts I've seen headlining other stages at the festival, we'd be here all day.

Note: When I've seen a band play this slot more than once, I shall combine both performances into a single entry. Otherwise we're just splitting hairs, aren't we?

Right. Here we go.

Guns N' Roses (2023)

I've never seen the appeal with Guns N' Roses. Legend has it they saved the world from tedious hair metal with their own brand of... tedious hair metal. If they were supposed to be such a giant leap from the likes of Mötley Crüe and Poison, then why do they sound exactly the same as the likes of Mötley Crüe and Poison?

I went in with low expectations, hoping to finally see what all the fuss is about. Plus, I believe they're Emily Eavis's favourite band, and it's pretty rare to see any heavy(ish) RAWK music on the Pyramid Stage. Really, it seemed rude not to watch them. And the idea of grooving to a soaring party anthem like Paradise City with thousands of others seemed like a good time, you know?

Alas, they were boring. Every song appeared to last for a thousand years. Now, I listen to Emerson, Lake, and Palmer on purpose. So if I, of all people, feel like something's dragging, then something's really gone wrong.

The crowd perked up a little whenever they played any of their big songs, but only a little. Yet the most remarkable thing about the crowd was how little crowd there actually was. Pyramid Stage headliners tend to play to heaving masses. For Guns N' Roses, we were stood somewhat close to the front barrier, yet all around us there were gaps in the crowd larger than the footprint of my house and garden.

Halfway through their set, one of our party was able to wander off, use the facilities, and then find the rest of us again without issue. This sort of thing is usually unthinkable at Glastonbury. Ordinarily, you need to make detailed plans, and take careful note of all surrounding landmarks, if you want any chance of finding your friends again.

They tried. Oh God, how they tried. But any band would struggle to maintain their energy while playing to a largely disinterested crowd that seemed to dwindle further with every passing song.

An overall dispiriting experience, made worse because it likely means that a heavy(ish) RAWK band will never headline Glastonbury again. Michael and Emily, believe me! It wasn't the type of music we found so boring, it was the band playing it!

The Killers (2007)

My very first Pyramid Stage headliner at my very first Glastonbury! They played all the hits (of which they had quite a few, even at this early stage in their career); they set off fireworks at all the right places, and Brandon and the boys looked as though they were having just as much fun as the crowd.

At least, they were having just as much fun as the small sections of the crowd who could actually hear what they were playing.

The Festival, you see, had just invested in a new sound system. State of the art, they said. Well, the sound was appalling: Muffled and completely devoid of any depth or punch.

When you're watching any big band in any big setting - whether it's a festival, an arena, or a stadium - then inevitably you'll spend a lot of your time watching the footage on the screens that flank the stage. A cynical little voice in your head will tell you that you might as well be watching the band on TV. Watching The Killers in 2007 was worse - it was like watching a band on TV with the volume turned down.

U2 (2011)

Were I allowed to commission my ideal U2 setlist, it would look a lot like the one U2 played when they finally headlined Glastonbury. They opened with the five best songs from Achtung Baby, one after another! Then they immediately played Where The Streets Have No Name! And I Will Follow!

On reflection, the only thing I'd change from their set would be to replace the two bland songs from No Line on the Horizon with... I don't know. Hold Me Thrill Me Kiss Me Kill Me. And something else from Zooropa. Yes.

U2 did everything right, and played an almost perfect setlist. So why did their set feel so lacklustre and forgettable?

"Because U2 are awful!" boom Sattler and Waldorf from their box. "Ohohohoho!"

But they're not.

I think the problems were twofold:

First, the relentless and punishing rain. It was horrible.

Seond, Bono and the boys knew they had to do something really, really special. They knew that this wasn't just another gig. But they were faraway (yet so close!) from pulling it off. The stage and the stakes were, ultimately, too big even for U2. Something wasn't right, so even the self-proclaimed "biggest band in the world" seemed dwarfed by the sense of occasion.

But mostly it was the rain. It was horrible.

Muse (2010, 2016)

I think you need to see Muse on their own terms. When they have full control over every aspect of their performance, they really put on a show. With dancers! And robots! And drones! And fire!

Inevitably they have to tone things down a bit at festivals. And a stripped-back Muse set could work - heaven knows their songs are powerful enough to devastate even without a retina-searing light show. The problem is that, at festivals, Muse tend to pair this pared-back production with setlists that play it as safe as possible. You're going to get a lot of songs from whichever album they're currently touring, plus the old reliable standards that, I fear, even Muse are tired of playing.

They might throw in the odd surprise, but it's like a flourish in the movements of one who is otherwise going through the motions: A temporary thrill that few will remember. Case in point, they apparently played Citizen Erased when they headlined in 2010. I have absolutely no recollection of this!

I do, however, recall the Edge walking on towards the end, for a cover of Where The Streets Have No Name. U2 were due to headline that year, you see, but had to drop out. They were replaced by Gorillaz, and U2 would ultimately play the following year. And we’ve all seen how that turned out!

Apparently, the moment he left the stage, the Edge asked if he’d be paid for his five minute guest slot. This story may not be true.

Muse’s 2016 set was much better, largely because the songs from Drones are a lot more complex and exciting than many of the standards that padded out the rest of their set. In this case, I have nobody to blame but myself for my lack of fond memories. ZZ Top had played earlier that day, and their deep fried southern boogies lead me astray. “WHO LIKES WHISKY?” they drawled at one point. “I DO,” I screamed, and proceeded to drink the majority of my weekend’s supply of whiskey in just a few heady hours. This put me in the mood for “FURTHER ROCK MUSIC”, very little of which I’d be able to remember.

Sorry, Muse.

Radiohead (2017)

Oh, speaking of bands you need to see on their own terms!

Over the years, I've learned the hard way that, unless you see Radiohead:

1. At their own show, and not at a festival, and

2. Indoors

Then you're going to have a bad time.

They can be uncompromising live. This is known. At a festival, or in any outdoor setting where the slightest breeze can dilute their sound, this can result in an overall frustrating and alienating experience.

They did themselves absolutely no favours at Glastonbury 2017. It was Friday night! Spirits were high! So what did they do? They opened with the slowest and saddest song from their new album. Daydreaming. It's lovely, but read the field, Radiohead!

Plus, Radiohead never use screens the way most bands use them - to provide close up footage of the action onstage. They tend to use them as part of their overall light show, with fuzzy and distorted images scrolling or pulsing in time with the music. Fine. But for the first half of their set at Glastonbury, the Sun hadn't quite set, so most of the crowd had to make do with squinting at tiny shapes moving around a twilit stage while the lights strobed ineffectively.

No surprises: A lot of people seemed restless. The lads surrounding us got louder and lairier. Not an ideal setting in which to get happy sad while watching your favourite band.

Things improved dramatically as the evening progressed. It got darker, so their light show started working the way it was supposed to. Plus, this was the only time I ever saw them play Creep, so I suppose they did read the field after all. A bit.

Often, when I rewatch live coverage of any performance, it doesn't seem as good as I remember. The recording is shorn of the immediacy, the atmosphere, and the volume. "You had to be there," I’ll say to people as they watch with a furrowed brow. But with Radiohead 2017, the opposite is true. Watch a recording, when you can take things slowly, and when you can actually see and hear what's happening onstage, and it looks masterful. The mood on the ground, though, was cold and oddly hostile.

The Cure (2019)

A strange day indeed. The Cure can be every bit as challenging and uncompromising as Radiohead. They have many genuinely hopeless songs, and they're not afraid to play them to tipsy funtime festival crowds!

But The Cure did one thing that Radiohead, for whatever reason, did not: They used their screens for their intended purposes! For even the bleakest music can feel a lot warmer when you can see the whites of the eyes of the tortured souls who unleash it.

Plus, beyond the vampiric anguish, Robert Smith has an endearingly cheeky demeanour onstage, with awkwardly muttered thanks and shy smiles between the songs. "This next bit, this is Glastonbury," he giggled at the start of the encore. The implication was that they'd got all of the gloominess out of their system, and that good times were to follow. But I'm sure I'm not the only one for whom the whole night had felt like a glorious Halloween party. It was a graveyard smash!

The Who (2007)

2007, my first Glastonbury, was surely one of the wettest, muddiest, and coldest in the festival's history. The festival is frequently an endurance test. But all too often, this one just felt miserable.

But by the Sunday of Glastonbury 2007, they had fixed whatever tech issues had plagued the sound system during The Killers' set on Friday. The Who were so loud and so punchy that we temporarily forgot about the cold, the wet, and the mud.

And that setlist! I Can't Explain, The Seeker, Who Are You, Baba O'Riley, My Generation, Won't Get Fooled Again - incredible songs, long guitar solos, regular windmilling. Closing with a quiet and reflective one from the latest album was an odd choice. But this was preceded by a Tommy medley that culminated in See Me, Feel Me, which was about as spiffing as live music can get.

Bruce Springsteen (2009)

Bruce seemed humbled, and even slightly bemused, by the whole occasion. Apparently the organisers had provided him with a scrapbook to explain the festival's history as a means of justifying the significantly reduced performer fees. But he took to the whole thing like a duck landing gracefully on a lake of good honest beer.

He showed us the boots he'd bought just for the weekend ("Bring a pair you won't mind ruining!") and kicked things off with a quick solo Joe Strummer strum. What followed was over two hours of grit, determination, dignity, and positivity.

They played beyond the curfew, which would have landed them a hefty fine: "WHAT TIME IS IT? IT'S BOSS TIME." And Bruce ended things by twirling his guitar around his body like a hula hoop, encrimsoning his face with the effort.

If you read certain forums, you'll get the impression that Bruce's headline set was notoriously bad - that it's one of those performances that, we can all agree, just didn't work.

No. The boss was boss.

Arcade Fire (2014)

A sentient mirrorball man began to flex his arms experimentally, casting dazzling beams of light in hundreds of directions at once. A rotating box, on a head, depicting a single blinking eye. Dancers rose on a podium before the stage, to show the world that they exist. Seemingly dozens of musicians onstage, all dressed for carnival. And one truly inexplicable moment when, to the bafflement of everyone, a DJ asked if we were tired of live music as he played some tunes by Pulp, The Prodigy, The Verve, Oasis, and Jay Z, with bobblehead accompaniment.

Reflektor dominated the set, which was fine by me: That's their third best album, and those sad and sparkling songs sounded utterly majestic live. But they were also good enough, and brave enough, to frontload their set with some of their biggest hits - Power Out and Rebellion (Lies) within the first five songs, yes!

This was before their concepts got too clever and too cold. This was the biggest music played on the biggest stage at a time when it was still possible for the biggest bands to also be the weirdest bands. We have to go back.

Coldplay (2011, 2016)

Moreso than most other bands, Coldplay just seem to get Glastonbury. They seem to appreciate that to play is an honour, and one gets the impression that they never quite feel worthy.

Perhaps this is what sets them apart from U2, and why Coldplay's sets work while U2's did not. U2 truly believe they're the biggest and the best. Glastonbury is lucky to have us! But Coldplay are a lot more diffident. "Headline Glastonbury? Again? Gee. We'll do our best."

This attitude makes all the difference. It means they don't strut around like they own the place. Nor do they have that hungry desperation of a band that feels they have something to prove. In its place is a very human and very humble commitment to making people happy.

In 2011, they were debuting songs from the yet to be released Mylo Xyloto album. The set was relatively stripped down by their standards, and they treated us to a number of songs from Parachutes (Shiver! Everything's Not Lost! Life is For Living!) It felt wonderfully intimate, and it was the first time I'd hear Charlie Brown, which would eventually become a favourite.

2016 wasn't as good, as they were touring their Head Full of Dreams album, which in my book, has just 1.5 good songs on it. This album marked the start of their less interesting era; an era which, alas, they're yet to leave. But they were still grinning like eager-to-please puppies, and they covered a song from a tiny teenage band, Viola Beach, who had recently met a tragic end while touring. Then they brought on Barry Gibb. And Michael Eavis.

They just do nice things to try and make people happy. I still love them, even if they've not released a good album in 11 years.

The Rolling Stones (2013)

I get it now! People talk about how old they are, and how they should have retired decades ago. But when you see Jagger doing his moves like Jagger, backed by Keith doing his gnarly zombie riffing, it's easy to see how they've managed to remain so popular for hundreds of years.

For one night only, Factory Girl became Glastonbury Girl. They played 2000 Light Years From Home for the first time in nearly 25 years. A robot phoenix perched above the stage came alive and started breathing fire during Sympathy For The Devil. But the most uplifting moment came right at the end, when the crowd surged during the opening notes of Satisfaction.

They have the power, charisma, and allure of guys one third their age, and they have better songs than most. This was a gift.

Elton John (2023)

This was billed as Elton's last ever UK show, so the field was absolutely packed. Wherever you found yourself standing an hour or so before start time, that's where you'd remain standing for the rest of your life. We got there as early as possible and we still had to stand a few hundred miles from the stage. This meant we had to see the end of Lil Nas X's set, which was an atrocity.

But Elton was magnificent. Yes, his set was a lot more "pop" than other shows on his farewell tour (he'd been playing the likes of Levon, Take Me To The Pilot, and Burn Down The Mission). And yes, there were some truly dire moments. WHY let Stephen Sanchez sing HIS OWN SONG during your supposed farewell show?! Who is Stephen Sanchez anyway, and why should we care?! And why play your awful duet with Dua Lipa as a backing track just minutes before playing the very song that’s been so horribly butchered by that dreadful dirge?! But apart from that, Elton was magnificent.

We were nervous, at first, that his voice wouldn't be up for it. There'd been a video making the rounds which Elton had recorded during lockdown - a performance of I'm Still Standing in which his voice was... odd. So with baited breath we waited for him to sing his first line. But he was fine! And even better, he opened with his version of Pinball Wizard while showing footage of Tommy on the big screens! Yes, Elton!

He closed with an extended version of Rocket Man. Fireworks exploded over a darkening stage, like an airborne Viking funeral for his performing career. This may prove to be the last ever Glastonbury headliner I ever see. At least we got to see things out in style.

Foo Fighters (2017)

There were ominous signs at the start, as a man in fancy dress got a bit funny with us. He didn't realise how utterly ridiculous he seemed trying to act tough while wearing pink fairy wings. But the crowd wasn't too dense at that point, so we were able to leave the scowling want-wit to his rage and entitlement. From the moment the Foo Fighters started it was good vibes only, with a crowd so rowdy that we were immediately swept away by a wave of sweaty moshers. We wouldn't see each other again for 12 songs or so.

We didn't know at the time how lucky we were to see Taylor behind the kit. We didn't know that, within just a few short years, immense gatherings of righteous goodwill such as this would be banned by snivelling civil servants across the world. All we ever have is now, friends.

Stevie Wonder (2010)

Some of the Glastonbury Festivals I've been to have been a challenge due to persistent and punishing rain. 2010 was a challenge for the opposite reason - blistering sunshine! Stevie headlined the Sunday night, by which time we were all sunstroked, deep fried, and pretty much done. But there's something about Stevie's mercurial soul that can revitalise even the crispiest of husks.

Within minutes of taking to the stage he was grooving to a keytar solo so intense that he required a roadie to support him. He announced that his show would be a tribute to Michael Jackson, who'd died the previous year, and it came in the form of an almost instrumental cover of Human Nature, with Stevie's harmonica taking the place of Michael's vocals.

He pitched his vocals up to become Little Stevie for a performance of Fingertips, and he brought Michael Eavis on to sing Happy Birthday to the festival, which was celebrating its 40th anniversary. "All you haters can just drink Hateraid and die!" said Stevie at one point. I can't remember why.

It was all so beautiful that it didn't matter that he only played one song from Songs in the Key of Life (Sir Duke!), and we didn't even mind when he played I Just Called to Say I Love You. Because he played Superstition immediately afterwards. Anything can be forgiven when it's followed by Superstition.

Blur (2009)

Between bands, the screens that flank the Pyramid Stage announce who's coming up. There was a point on the Sunday evening of the 2009 festival where they said: "Up next - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds; Blur." It's the sort of two-headed treat that will likely never happen again. We didn't know how good we had it.

Blur were perfect in every way. This was their reunion tour, and the first time they'd played live in five years or more. Seeing Graham and Damon together onstage was like seeing your divorced parents chatting amicably at a party. It induced a feeling that all was right in the world.

We shared some stunned, rather speechless looks following the colossal guitar noise wig-out that closed Beetlebum. Coffee & TV was beautiful, but of course, Tender is the song that everyone remembers. How the crowd, immediately and unprompted, started singing Graham's "oh my baby" part the moment they started. How the stage went black for longer than was comfortable afterwards, apparently because the group was just so overwhelmed by the reaction.

This is why people start playing music, I suppose. And this is why we go to shows. It's because we want to feel like we're part of something bigger than ourselves. We all yearn for that rare feeling that all is right in the world.

Afterwards, we walked to the top of the festival site to take in the sheer scale of things. Every light we could see in every direction was part of the festival. It felt like it went on forever - like it could go on forever. But it got very cold very quickly, and we were nearly trapped in a downpour.

And when I say "we", this time I mean it. We were all there. The whole gang, as it were. And this was the last time we'd ever be together at the same time in that very special place. Did we know it at the time? I don't think we did.