I’LL tell anyone who will listen how the Glastonbury Festival changed my life – and how it could theirs.

It’s an amazing experience, whether it’s your first, fifth, or 50th time in the fields. Heck, I even wrote a book about it, I love it so much.

Another thing I will tell anyone who will listen – and even those who won’t – is that my first festival-based revelation came in 1995.

On August 24, 1995, I was an awkward, acne-ridden 16-year-old from a small town in deepest darkest Worcestershire.

I had long hair – a stare-provoking characteristic in those parts – I played music, and dared to like bands most people had never heard of.

That overcast morning, I picked up my GCSE results. I did fine. But that wasn’t the main event that day.

Oh no, I was heading to Reading Festival, my ticket bought by my mother as a reward for doing okay in my exams.

After enduring a two-hour journey in my older brother’s battered green Ford Fiesta, I finally made my way out into the world – the festival campsite at Little John’s Farm – and had my world turned upside down.

Far from being stared at, called ‘weird’ or ‘a freak’, far from walking quickly past others for fear of a beating, every which way I turned there were people who looked like me.

In this field, on a grey August day in the mid-1990s, I had found my people. Found my home.

It has been that way ever since.

Every time I arrive at a festival and emerge into the madness of the site, that same feeling returns; of belonging, of excitement, acceptance and positivity – a sense of being home.

Since 1995, as I attended as many festivals as I could, nowhere has that feeling been more pronounced than at Glastonbury which, despite the claims of a loud few, has clung on to far more of the original festival ethos than its peers, a huge achievement considering its size and standing in UK and world culture.

However – and you knew a ‘but’ was coming, right? – there has always been one little thing missing. It’s the elephant in the room whenever I am eulogising on the greatness of Glastonbury to the latest person to fall victim to my Worthy sermons.

The query they so often raise in response to my gushing praise is that not quite everyone is catered for at Glastonbury.

Shock! Horror! Repent!

But it’s true.

That long hair I mentioned earlier was the result of my dedication to all things heavy (and I mean music, I didn’t have an unhealthy addiction to fridges or something).

I loved – and still love – down-tuned, riff-heavy rock, metal, hardcore, whatever. From grunge to garage, punk to prog, if it kicks ass or melts hearts and means it, I’m in.

Much to my chagrin, the Glastonbury nay-sayers in my circle can stump me with one remark: “If it is so special, and has something for everyone, why don’t they have any metal?”

And I have no answer. They’re right. It is a gaping hole in the festival’s musical miscellany.

Of course, there have been moments when the mighty head of Glastonbury has nodded in our direction – Metallica being called up to the Pyramid in 2014, or Guns ‘n’ Roses topping the bill in 2023 – but these are huge names, called up from the superstar subs bench in what felt like bookings of last resort (and may well have been, according to rumour).

When Napalm Death played the Truth Stage in 2017, they were treated like something of a freak show, interviewed on BBC Breakfast for being ‘weird’. But they drew a big crowd, and were full of praise for the Glastonbury faithful.

Yes, there is the resultant Epitaph takeover on the Truth stage, but the fact is that’s a few acts, usually in the middle of the night/early hours, and feels like a token gesture catering to the few.

It’s great, but Glastonbury is better than great – and we can do something about it.

The only festival I’ve ever attended where the atmosphere and spirit among attendees rivalled that of my beloved Glastonbury was Sonisphere, a rock and metal festival that used to be held at Knebworth.

Me, left, at the 2010 Sonisphere festival at Knebworth

The last time I went, in 2010, the line-up featured names that would strike fear in the hearts of the uninitiated; Slayer, Rammstein, Iron Maiden, Alice in Chains, Funeral For a Friend, Fear Factory, Papa Roach and countless more.

By that time, my long hair had long gone, replaced by a sensible newsroom haircut suitable for interviewing the great and the good.

But it mattered not one bit. The piercings, long hair, tattoos and patch-covered denim and leather jackets that surrounded me were a uniform for kindness, for acceptance, peace and harmony that made that festival one of the best I’ve ever attended.

I want Glastonbury to share that, to add it to its vast, vast menu, to truly cater for everyone.

So here’s my pitch to area organisers, venue bookers, anyone on site with a space and maybe a bar…

When planning for 2025, I am issuing a plea for someone, anyone, to leave a gap – an hour, two hours, three hours, whatever – to stage something for us metalheads.

I’m not asking for them to dedicate a stage, a budget, even live bands – just a space where music can be played. It doesn’t need bookings, or a backline, roadies or artist passes. Just a PA and some space for a down-tuned disco of epic proportions.

There are great rock and metal folks out there who could front it, I’m sure. Hell, I would be happy to organise it for nothing, from gimmicks and marketing to decoration and direction (and I have a killer Spotify playlist full of anthems I know would chime with all things Glasto).

For whatever time was allowed, the good folks of Glastonbury – of which I consider myself a fully paid-up member – would be able to indulge their inner metalhead, hug their hidden headbanger, embrace their emo explorations and let go, finding the delights of a dropped-D chugger or the playful party of a pop-punk floor filler.

It is my dream for festival I love most to embrace the joyful feeling that comes when that killer riff lands, or that monster half-time feel drops.

It isn’t about mosh pits and headbanging, but what all good music represents – a genuine feeling of release, of energy, connection and emotion.

Our headbangers’ ball could show those not already into heavy music how it is not scary, does not ‘all sound the same’, while they have fun discovering amazing music and meeting amazing people, stepping outside their musical comfort zone.

Isn’t that what Glastonbury’s all about?

All things electronic-based – from trance to trip-hop, DJs to dance – have their own entire area, which is great.

Perhaps the good people in power at Glastonbury could find something for the countless folks who love the place just as much as anyone else, but also enjoy something a touch heavier on their turntables from time to time?

“You’ll meet all kinds of people, of all ages, backgrounds, nationalities, lifestyles, faiths, concepts of fashion (or lack of it) and musical taste,” the Glastonbury website boasts.

That’s absolutely true – and thousands of those people love a bit of heavy music.

So there it is, my heartfelt plea, made with the greatest respect as a Glastonbury devotee of some 20 years; for someone to please give a little something to those kind, lovely people I know enjoy their pilgrimage to Worthy Farm each year, but whose tastes are little acknowledged in their special place.

Do it for that small-town boy bullied for his long hair. He should not be ashamed of his musical passion, he should be embraced and encouraged to enjoy it, including at – especially at – the musical mecca that is Glastonbury.

That’s my dream. My plea.

I’m just a metal fan, standing in front of his most treasured festival, asking it to love him.

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