Glastonbury 2016 review: Brexit and worst-ever mud can't dampen the spirits of a transcendent festival

"It’s a bit weird the stuff that’s going on at the moment for all of us," Adele says during her triumphant Saturday night headline slot at Glastonbury 2016. For once, for a woman who shoots from the hip so much the BBC had to warn her about her “potty mouth” ahead of her set’s live broadcast, she is guilty of something of an understatement: the vote to leave the European Union, announced Friday morning as the festival began in earnest, has seismic consequences and the reverberations were felt at this most politically engaged and socially liberal of festivals. A tangible mood of anxiety took hold just as people’s fun was meant to be starting.

As such, artists from Damon Albarn, opening the Pyramid Stage with The Orchestra of Syrian Musicians, Bastille, Billy Bragg, James and Foals all spoke out about the majority Brexit verdict. During The 1975’s excellent display of 80’s originating sugar-coated pop on The Other Stage, singer Matthew Healy bemoaned the vote and stated “Glastonbury stands for everything our generation wants - compassion, social responsibility, community, loving each other”, a belief borne out by an opinion poll revealing that 83% of Glastonbury attendees voted Remain.

But even without the Brexit vote casting a shadow, Glastonbury had already got off to a decidedly inauspicious start. Torrential rain in Pilton in the run up to the festival left Worthy Farm flooded before a tent was even pitched in anger, leading to chaos and lengthy delays as people arrived on Wednesday. Festival organiser Michael Eavis says it’s the worst rain and mud in the festival’s 46 years history which, if you’ve ever tried to navigate your way up to The Park stage in the rain after a few too many ciders, will give you some idea of the treacherous conditions.

By Sunday the situation was thoroughly miserable, but such is Glastonbury’s unifying force there was still plenty to lift the spirits. Before Coldplay’s unashamedly colourful and anthemic headline set - one moment where Chris Martin’s comically clichéd lyrics serve as some kind of comfort - Kendrick Lamar collaborator Kamasi Washington’s expansive funk-jazz tour de force on the West Holt’s stage was uplifting as it was impressive. But it wasn’t just the rain that put a dampener on Jeff Lynne’s ELO’s set. Compared to previous veterans who have stormed the much coveted and anticipated Sunday afternoon legend’s slot, Lynne’s show feels subdued, lacking the pizzazz of say, a Lionel Richie or, the fabulous “Mr Blue Sky” apart, the wealth of genuine, copper-bottomed classic material of a Brian Wilson.

Thank God, then, for Beck. In front of a mud-caked, weary crowd waiting for Coldplay’s arrival, he beguiles those in need of a lift with a stunning, career spanning show. Shapeshifting chameleon-like through his various guises - stoner slacker, country-psycher, hip hop appropriator, post-electro popper - and pulling his best funk-rock dance moves out of the draw, he manages to make everyone momentarily forget the mud. Tunes like “The New Pollution” and “Where It’s At” are irresistible, even dropping snippets of David Bowie, Prince and Chic into the latter like he ultra-showman he is.

If this year lacks a musical narrative - the closest equivalent is the visual and musical tributes to Bowie, Prince and Motorhead’s Lemmy, which include a poignant and immersive performance from Phillip Glass’ Heroes Symphony reworking the Thin White Duke’s Berlin period - then at least a new generation of future headliners emerged. Oxford five-piece Foals played prior to Muse but will surely make the step up next time they visit Worthy Farm: their set, their blistering set, full of singalong indie-disco anthems played with thunderous muscularity, looks guaranteed to see them step up to top billing next time around. With just one Mercury Prize nominated debut to their name Wolf Alice are some way behind Foals but there was enough in their Pyramid stage debut - an assault of incendiary grunge and shoegaze - to suggest the sky is the limit.

As Muse prove on Friday, headlining is an art and the space-rock behemoths specialise in it, taking the view that bombast and prosperousness are the way to go. With an oeuvre that takes Queen, Marilyn Manson and 70’s hard rock into outer space, the entire spectacle is too enjoyable to repel.

Two performances stood out above the rest. Héloïse Letissier aka Christine and the Queens’ Friday performance was a spectacular, flamboyantly choreographed tour de force. Soundtracked by innovative electro-pop, Letissier revels in her roles as idiosyncratic outsider (I’m a hashtag tiny French angry thing!”) and heartfelt unifier. “We’re on our first date,” she says as she hands out flowers to the crowd. “Please call back!” A star has arrived.

But the weekend belonged to Adele. Given her remarkable success - latest album 25 has sold in excess of 20 million copies in an age when people treat stumping up for music with the same enthusiasm as paying their electricity bill - the consternation over her suitability to headline seemed odd. In retrospect it seems unthinkable: yes, as she admits herself onstage her songs can get “miserable” (the poor ex-boyfriend must have a complex by now) but here her emotive ballads and upbeat(ish) soul are undeniably moving, cried back in unison by a crowd so swollen the field could barely contain it. And that voice: perfectly pitched, every single time.

“Let’s all look after each other” she says at one point with genuine concern. It’s a message that the crowd, and the watching millions at home, could do well to heed.