This is what headline-worthy looks like. At 222 Olivia Rodrigo wrapped up Glastonbury with an ego-stroking display so wildly unpredictable even her biggest critics might just include bored former pop fans paused eye rolls momentarily.
The evening began with the standard glitter and guitars bravado, Rodrigo sashaying into the Pyramid Stage proclaiming “Glastonbury, what a f–ing part,” fireworks erupting as if to say, “Yes, of course we brought the circus.” She bounced through her hits—Vampire, Drivers License, Good 4 U—with a swagger so practiced it practically came with its own instruction manual.
Then came back the pièce de résistance: the staggering unannounced show-stealer. Trading in all the expected cameos, Rodrigo actually invited Robert Smith—the 66-year-old goth-rock demigod from The Cure—to duet on “Friday I’m In Love” and “Just Like Heaven.” Because, naturally, she needed a dose of alt-rock credibility to balance out the teenage diary vibes.
The one thing that was not nostalgic is a tribute. This was calculated high fashion, flex and industry-wide mic drop that screamed “I can pull legends on stage like it’s no big deal.” And sure enough, the reaction? A thousand jaws collectively hit the mud. Rodrigo’s own audience, composed of multi-generational punks, popped their X-brains, going from, “Wait—is that Robert Smith??” to full-on hymn-singing in minutes
Is it adorable that she called him maybe the greatest English songwriter? Maybe. But let’s not forget: it’s also shamelessly savvy. While lesser acts struggle to secure fest cred, she’s out here merging teen-pop with goth royalty like it’s brunch conversation.
And yes, the whole feminist-whatever political undercurrent of Glastonbury got kicked into overdrive—protests, Palestine chant-offs, artists channeling rage. Rodrigo didn’t exactly lead the charge, but by crowning her set with a Sugaring-of-England dude in Union Jack hot pants, she subtly tipped her hat to festival politics while serving up foot-stomping spectacle .
Of course, fans are drooling over how “magical” it was. One hailed it as a “proper moment”; another couldn’t fathom getting Robert Smith in their bingo card. Meanwhile, somewhere out there, a handful of seasoned festivalgoers must be grinding their teeth, muttering, “Back in my day…”
The young kid killed it. Commanding backing band, unexpected costume changes, rock-star theatrics—she nailed the festival-headliner script. Then she signs off with Good 4 U, balloons fall, crowd loses its collective mind, and Olivia basks in applause that even the festival-organizer-in-chief would envy.
So yeah, we’re supposed to be thrilled. But let’s cut through the glitter: this was less a heartfelt homage, more a power-play in a pop playground. She didn’t just close Glastonbury—she rewrote the rules. Kudos, kid. Shine on, but know that every glitter bomb in the sky was also a spotlight on how hard that leverage was earned. Or maybe, let’s be real—the strategists behind it. Keep Reading Jealosy.in for more news.
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