Glastonbury Festival

Glastonbury’s cinema tent has hosted an impressive range of A-listers this year, from Paul Mescal (whose short shorts are yet to influence the Glasto blokes who adore a practical cargo pocket) to Tilda Swinton, Florence Pugh, Simon Pegg and Cate Blanchett. All dilettantes at this music festival, though, compared with actually singing Russell Crowe at the field’s opposite tent, the Acoustic stage.

In his Oscar-nominated performance in Gladiator he was “father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife”, and I rather thought he’d be uncle to a series of murdered cover versions, but I’m proved wrong. Billed as his Indoor Garden Party and backed by a sizeable band, he sings a series of self-penned songs inspired by moments in his own life, from thwarted love to the death of his father.

If you’re wondering what Russell Crowe’s music sounds like, yes, it’s that. He lives up to his everybloke image with music that isn’t just middle of the road but actually paints the white lines down it: a bit blues-rock, a bit country-rock, a bit rock’n’roll, a bit AOR, a bit singer-songwriter. His capable, unremarkable band cover all the bar-band bases: rhythmic piano, workmanlike trumpet, backing singers in minidresses sashaying and fingerclicking. Chords resolve with all the dull predictably and solidity of a straight-to-streaming three act drama. You rather imagine if Crowe transposed his lyrics into film dialogue, he’d wrinkle his nose at the script’s cliches and aphorisms: “Time keeps rolling on to the happy ever after”, “water is stronger than stone”, “how do I take this losing hand and somehow win”. A number of tracks are from a new album with the quite operatically Alan Partridgean title of Prose and Cons. There’s also flash of danger early on when his mic has a touch of static and he gives a glance sideways of pure intimidation. A new one is duly provided within about four seconds.

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He has that unreachable reality-bending presence of Hollywood actors, while being remarkably down to earth: a potent combo. Crowe may not be the world’s greatest songwriter, but he’s a very decent singer, and a truly world-class star.