Arctic Monkeys at Glastonbury 2007: A triumphant one-time-only taste of the big time
By the time Arctic Monkeys took to the stage to open their Glastonbury 2007 set with ‘When The Sun Goes Down’, they had already prophesied their success. Unlike other young and up-and-coming bands, earning the spot didn’t solidify their tentative excitement. Instead, it allowed them to confirm what they had already learned: they were the hottest act, even though they weren’t yet as huge as they would become in the coming years.
Before they took to the stage, they had already enjoyed four long and exciting years of success. From the charging mantras that defined Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not to their heavy rotation on MTV, the Sheffield group had already gathered a growing swell of dedicated fans who couldn’t get enough not only of their music but the way they held themselves during live shows.
After all, this was seemingly a band that didn’t bother itself very much with pleasantries at all, which, at this juncture, meant shunning many of the usual things you might expect from a band trying to maintain its steadfast reputation. Beyond the perceived self-assuredness of their frontman, Alex Turner, they didn’t really care much for any sort of transactional crowd interaction and sometimes even forewent encores. This meant they quite literally showed up, did what they wanted to do, and left—leaving others on a high from the soaring tunes that made their legacy enchant long after the final beats.
By the time Turner and his entourage began echoing the coveted words to ‘When The Sun Goes Down’, their audience had already come equipped with two distinctive Monkeys-specific qualities: a disinterest in their mud-adorned Glastonbury states, and an inexplicable confidence in the band’s ability to deliver something raw and exciting, no matter the conditions or how cocky Turner held himself on stage.
All of this scorched the already-burning knowledge that this was very much a band that hadn’t made it yet, at least not compared to their forthcoming trajectory, despite gathering a handful of hits as much-needed ammunition from their debut and their newly released sophomore record, Favourite Worst Nightmare. As the crowd roared to the unmistakable sounds of ‘Mardy Bum’, recognition and familiarity superseded uncertainty as the band hinted at the success that was yet to come, occupying a stage historically reserved for those who were already four steps ahead.
Others might have taken the opportunity to truly shine, giving a performance that delivered more than they could have ever anticipated, even if it didn’t reflect the subtle demeanour they wanted as an artist. However, the thing about Arctic Monkeys on the Pyramid stage in 2007 wasn’t that they didn’t care; they just knew that their music was enough to create and sustain the kind of energy they always knew they had, enough to mirror earlier groundbreaking efforts by established bands like Radiohead, who had already delivered a performance for the books back in 1997.
Perhaps this is also why such an opportunity seemed like a one-time-only ordeal, as Glastonbury became more exclusive with the main acts they offered after Monkeys’ stint in 2007. Never again will another act or band be able to excel at such a pivotal juncture without overcompensating on who they were as artists and performers. Above all, however, never again will a band on the verge of breaking the industry exist with such unparalleled uniqueness, offering a glimpse not only into the kind of festival Glastonbury once was and could be but a music industry that thrived on being wide open and unpredictable.
