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0:00This is the Glastonbury Festival… or at least,
it will be. Right now it’s a dairy farm,
0:06set in the Somerset countryside, home to about 400
cows. Through fall, winter, and spring they graze
0:12the fields for grass and shrubs, in turn producing
milk that’s used to make Worthy Farm Cheddar. But
0:18come late-April, it’s time for them to relocate
to their summer residence at a nearby farm.
0:22That’s because these fields are about to be
transformed into the largest greenfield music
0:27festival in the entire world—in a matter
of weeks, 200,000 people will descend onto
0:32this farm in the middle of nowhere Britain.
First, they block off access—there are a number
0:37of roads and footpaths running through it which
of course need to become private as construction
0:42begins. Next, the perimeter fence goes up, along
with the very first facility: a preliminary site
0:48office from which the construction processes will
be led. Before construction begins, though, they
0:52need to address the roads. Most of them are made
of dirt meaning in Britain’s rainy weather, with
0:57a large number of heavy vehicles, they’d quickly
become impassable. That’s why they lay down these
1:02temporary metal road coverings rated for up to
40 tonnes. There’s also the matter of bridges.
1:07There are a number across the site and small
farm bridges were never designed to accommodate
1:12a constant barrage of semi-trucks, so while many
have been permanently upgraded through the years
1:16to handle the demand, others get temporarily
reinforced just for the festival period.
1:21Around mid-May, the core stage of the build
begins, so the site office gets supplemented
1:26with shower and toilet facilities so that staff
can camp on-site. Across the following weeks,
1:30this staff headquarters will continue
to grow—they’ll add a first aid center,
1:34a welfare center with mental health and conflict
resolution support, a staff canteen with three
1:39hot meals a day, even a number of crew bars.
The bulk of the build-work involves erecting
1:44around 90 major temporary structures,
ranging from tents to stages. What this
1:48looks like from the perspective of Glastonbury
Festival Events Limited—the actual organizing
1:53company—is facilitating the work of a huge number
of subcontractors who do the operational work of
1:58erecting each facility. Their staff does
little themselves beyond, well, organize.
2:04As this occurs, work starts to build the core
infrastructure of the event. Sanitation is of
2:09paramount importance—200,000 people is a lot, and
if there are not enough places for them to go,
2:15they’ll find their own places to do their
business. Glastonbury’s sanitation solution
2:19would be described by some as innovative
and by others as horrific. Basically,
2:24they dig giant pits in the ground. They then
install what’s called a long-drop toilet—a
2:30row of toilet seats on top of holes that drop
into the bigger hole. The “innovation” is that
2:35the large hole is big enough that it doesn’t have
to be emptied during the festival. Worthy Farm’s
2:40roads are massively congested during the festival,
so having to have trucks constantly make their
2:45way through to empty out Porta Potties would be
quite detrimental to broader festival operations.
2:50Rather, they clean the pits out just once at the
end of the festival, then refill the hole with
2:54dirt and allow residual waste to biodegrade.
Of course it’s not all about outputs—there are
3:00also the inputs. The festival includes about 1,000
different traders—food vendors, craft stalls,
3:06charity tents, and more. Now, of course, it would
be chaos if each and every one of these vendors
3:11had to be entirely self-sufficient—each
stall would operate its own generator,
3:15you’d have propane canisters strewn all over the
place, and the single-use plastics consumption
3:20would fly firmly in the face of the festival’s
eco-conscious mission. That’s why Glastonbury
3:24essentially operates its own utility system.
While Worthy Farm looks like a farm and operates
3:29as a farm, the fact that the festival was founded
by the farm’s owners—who still own it to this
3:34day—made it practical to build some permanent
infrastructure. The most notable example of this
3:39is its water supply system. Underneath the fields
is a network of pipes, similar to that underneath
3:44any town, distributing water to key facilities.
This has existed for decades, but the trouble
3:49was that demand over festival weekend was so much
more than traditionally needed in the area—about
3:553 million liters a day compared to typical demand
of just a half million in the adjacent village.
4:01Naturally, that demand spike strained the local
water mains and led to low pressure for nearby
4:05residents. They complained that they were unable
to do their laundry or take a shower during the
4:09festival, which wasn’t just annoying—it was
a risk to the festival itself. When community
4:14sentiment goes down, so too does the likelihood
of getting an operating permit. As a fix,
4:19the festival experimented with trucking water
in using tankers and filling massive bladders
4:23that would feed into the pipes, but while this
alleviated the water pressure issues it still led
4:28to community impact due to the nonstop procession
of trucks snaking through small village streets.
4:33So eventually they built two massive underground
reservoirs. Today, in the weeks leading up to the
4:38festival, these are slowly filled at a rate that
does not stress the local system, and they have
4:42enough capacity to cover festival weekend without
creating exceptional demand on the local system.
4:47The other utilities are provided by third-party
contractors—the festival requires that all traders
4:52buy propane from the company Festival Gas which
operates regular deliveries throughout the site.
4:57Meanwhile, another company called Aggreko builds
a temporary electric grid for the festival,
5:02using a combination of large generators and
renewable sources, and traders contract directly
5:06with them for their power supply more or less
how they would with a traditional grid operator.
5:10This is only the start of the rules
imposed on vendors by the festival.
5:14Each one of them is an independent business, but
they’re perceived by attendees as a component of
5:19the overall experience, and therefore Glastonbury
is accountable for them and their actions. That’s
5:24why they all have their binder: a huge
collection of paperwork on which their
5:28ability to keep operating hinges. While exact
requirements will vary, in 2015, it looked
5:33like this—vehicle and staff passes, proof of
insurance, health and safety documentation,
5:38even their very own A5 No Smoking sign.
But the vendors, for their part, have had
5:43plenty of time to prepare this documentation
along with their staffing plan, exact footprint
5:47and layout of their space, and all the other
minutiae required as the application window
5:51opens some nine months prior, with selection being
made three months prior to the festival. Selection
5:56takes such a long time because a festival is not
just trying to fill the openings, they’re trying
6:00to fill the openings with vendors that match the
festival’s particular values and particular needs.
6:06From the nonprofit and jewelry tents, to those
making greasy late-night meals or morning-after
6:10breakfasts, vendors inform the experience of a
festival just as much as the art and music, so
6:15the Glastonbury planners pour over each and every
detailed application. And should a vendor get in,
6:20they’ll be paying for the privilege. While
exact fees to trade at Glastonbury aren’t
6:24listed because each is case by case, sizable
and well-positioned food vendors have reported
6:29prices in the 15-to-20,000-pound range for
the busier spaces nearer to major stages,
6:35with rates dropping the farther one is
positioned from the festival center.
6:39A telling sign that the hefty upfront fee
for a five-day run is worthwhile, though,
6:43is a particular feature that appears in
small print on the Glastonbury map—the
6:47wholesale market. Essentially, it’s a shop for
the shops. Each morning of the festival there’s
6:53a procession toward this spot as wholesalers
bring in staple ingredients, fresh foods,
6:57and serveware for the depleted vendors to
purchase. Much of these interactions take
7:01place in the morning when the festival grounds
are generally quieter and easier to navigate.
7:05For a small window of time, a slew of trucks
and tractors are permitted to run deliveries
7:10around the site very slowly and carefully. But
for most, supplies are purchased and then hauled
7:15by hand or wagon to get ready for the next rush.
Staying in stock is critical for vendors and
7:20the festival alike, as a vendor is required to
station their booth at their assigned spot for
7:25the entire run of the festival—as leaving early
would mean a significant fine and lost chance
7:29to come back next year. In part, this is down
to security, as the vendor areas, or markets,
7:34function effectively as islands sealed off from
the general admission areas. Booths, therefore,
7:39are impermeable extensions of fences, each
keeping the festival public outside the
7:43market zone where vendors have their vehicles and
extra supplies, and in some cases, where there are
7:48vendor-only services and camping areas.
Even separated from general admission,
7:52running a vendor at a festival is a draining
affair. The lines at some hours will be unruly
7:57and never-ending, and at other times, nonexistent.
The heat will be sweltering, and there will also
8:03be unrelenting rain. All the while there will
be pressure—pressure to move enough product to
8:08justify the entry fee, pressure to make enough
to keep a food truck up and running for the next
8:11few weeks until another festival, and pressure to
adhere to food safety standards—the last of which,
8:16the festival is also keeping tabs on.
To help wrangle Glastonbury’s vendors,
8:20the festival deploys managers with offices
placed near groupings of markets to ensure
8:24policies are being respected by the vendors and
guests and offering themselves as a resource
8:28should anything start going sideways between the
two parties. These Market Managers report to the
8:33Partnership Director, who is responsible for
dealing with all the external partnerships—from
8:36fencing contractors to food vendors—and
operates from the Event Control Center,
8:40which in 2015 was located here at the Green Barn.
Beyond market management, much of the overall
8:45security and safety structures that the festival
relies on emanates from the Event Control Center.
8:50At its busiest, it will see some 500 employees
and volunteers working in and around it, while
8:55representatives of each aspect of the festival
will be based out of it for the festival's
8:59entirety—such as the Operations Director,
Infrastructure Manager, Security Director,
9:03Site Manager, and Health and Safety Coordinator
to name a few. Directly neighboring the control
9:07center is fire control and a makeshift police
station, the former supplied by the regional
9:11Devon and Somerset Fire and Rescue Service.
Connected by phone, radio, and CCTV, the Event
9:17Control Center keeps close tabs on everything
from impending weather and conditions across the
9:21ground to the flow of guests and density of crowds
all with the aim to monitor pending problems and
9:25proactively gameplan solutions. And to make sure
nothing is missed, and response can be hastened
9:30when problems do arise, the directors and managers
stationed at the control center work with official
9:34Area Organizers spread across all areas of the
festival—from stages to campgrounds. It’s this
9:40group that will supervise the buildout of their
region, carry out daily inspections, and manage
9:44adherence on everything from health and safety
standards to the onsite traffic management plan.
9:48Of course, keeping a festival running smoothly
and safely during it requires ample foresight
9:53before it. A campground, for instance,
can be well monitored by area organizers,
9:58accounted for by police, and aided by a robust
lost-and-found system, but crime and petty theft
10:03are things that a good festival addresses
long before the festival. At Glastonbury,
10:08campgrounds are modestly lit by strung-up festoon
lighting to minimize crime in the dark of night,
10:12while each camp will have lock-up areas for
campers' valuables. In such a chaotic environment,
10:17the best way to solve problems is
to limit them in the first place.
10:20 The same goes with crowd dynamics—crowd control
procedures only really work when officials have a
10:25good sense as to the exact number of participants
they’re dealing with. As a generally free-spirited
10:30venture from the beginning, Glastonbury has always
dealt with its fair share of gatecrashers. In its
10:34history, the festival has even welcomed them—a
past that has created a culture of seemingly
10:39good-natured trespassing. But that changed with
this fence. Running 5 miles or 8 kilometers
10:45around the festival’s perimeter, the Super
Fortress Fence, as it’s called, has helped the
10:49festival ensure a right-sized crowd by minimizing
intrusions with its smooth 12-foot tall face and
10:5445-degree overhang at the top. Still, some will
try it, so spread across the festival are guard
11:00towers and patrols on motorized vehicles to watch
for those trying to sneak over, or under, the
11:05massive fence. Perhaps countering the festival’s
traditionally welcoming ethos, the fence is a
11:09safety necessity because letting in thousands of
unaccounted-for guests will strain resources and
11:14alter crowd dynamics to a potentially dangerous
extent. And it’s also a licensing necessity,
11:20as this fence came into being in 2002 in response
to a 15,000-pound fine for having gatecrashers
11:25take the crowd size well over the licensed
capacity. Without a far more aggressive system
11:29of keeping people out, Glastonbury was facing
the potential of losing its license entirely.
11:35Now, organizing a festival like Glastonbury
once is, in and of itself, a massive feat,
11:40but doing a festival like Glastonbury year
in year out is yet more impressive because
11:44it not only has to function, it has to function
well. What’s at risk is not just losing business,
11:51but losing the festival’s right to operate at
all. There’s no inherent right for Glastonbury
11:57to operate. If things go wrong, it risks
losing this: its operating permit. And
12:02making Glastonbury’s operations yet more
challenging is the fact that it has to
12:06do all of this in a quiet, sparsely-populated
rural area of famously bureaucratic Britain.
12:12An endless array of regulations are imposed
on the festival by both the local and national
12:17government. Perhaps the biggest risk-area, in the
government’s eyes, centers around alcohol. It’s
12:22of course in the festival’s financial interest
to sell as much alcohol as possible, but too
12:26much drunken debauchery can and has turned music
festivals into riots. Therefore, the UK government
12:32prohibits certain activities that it deems likely
to promote excessive consumption. For example,
12:37the venue must monitor to assure patrons are
not pouring alcohol into other people’s mouths,
12:41and the festival is prohibited from running
drinking games that involve consuming a certain
12:45amount of alcohol in a certain amount of time.
But the government isn’t the only entity the
12:50festival is answerable to. Just as significant a
risk is that of upsetting their insurers. You see,
12:56festivals are incredibly risky businesses, but
they’re also massive businesses. Glastonbury is
13:02estimated to earn upwards of $80 million a year
in revenue, but that revenue all hinges on just
13:07five core days of operation. If weather washes it
out or key artists fail to show or reality doesn’t
13:13match expectations, Glastonbury will likely have
to refund ticket-sales—either due to government
13:18regulations or public pushback. Of course, almost
all of the expenses—contractors, tent rentals,
13:24infrastructure, staff salaries—will have already
been paid for. It’s not like a traditional
13:29concert-venue where a year-round schedule offsets
the risk of individual shows—here, all their eggs
13:35are in one basket. Without insurance, one rainy
weekend could bankrupt the business, and even
13:40without foul weather the festival might struggle
to hire contractors and artists due to concern
13:44about nonpayment in the event of cancellation.
So insurance is effectively mandatory. Almost any
13:51large festival will hold a massive policy covering
both general liability and more unique risks like
13:56event cancellation and artist non-appearance.
Very few insurers—reportedly about ten—will
14:02actually underwrite these policies given
their massive scale, giving them quite a
14:06bit of leverage in setting terms. Every policy
is unique, but much of the design and operations
14:11of festivals is therefore dictated by the
insurer—for liquor liability coverage they
14:16might require that sales are limited to two
at a time, for general liability coverage they
14:20might set security staffing minimums, for artist
non-appearance coverage they might prohibit the
14:24festival from booking particularly troublesome
artists, for event cancellation coverage they
14:28might require an on-site meteorologist.
But while these insurance policies make
14:32event management a sustainable business,
they are also now holding the industry back.
14:37Many of these policies did cover cancellation due
to communicable diseases, meaning the insurers
14:42lost a colossal amount of money in 2020 due to the
COVID pandemic. Five years on, it’s still almost
14:48impossible to get a policy covering pandemics, at
least at a reasonable cost, but even the policies
14:53excluding it have inflated in cost. There have
been a number of high-profile incidents that
14:57likely involved high-dollar payouts in recent
years like the deadly Astroworld crowd crush.
15:02And then on top of that, there’s a global trend of
increased extreme weather. Just as this is pushing
15:07up home insurance rates in fire-prone areas, it’s
also raising the cost of festival insurance.
15:12Combined, there are instances like the Bonnaroo
festival, in Tennessee, which cancelled in 2020
15:17due to COVID, 2021 due to flooding, and 2025 due
to heavy rains. With three cancellations in six
15:23years, it’s no wonder insurance rates are going
up. Bonnaroo is owned by Live Nation which, due to
15:29its scale, can likely negotiate lower rates as its
risk is diversified over many different festivals,
15:34but the impacts are more pronounced for
independent festivals like Glastonbury
15:37where the risk is more singular. And insurance
issues are greatest for new festivals. Insurers
15:43charge higher rates when a festival is unproven,
which makes it exceptionally hard to start a new,
15:48independent festival—especially when Fyre
Fest so visibility demonstrated the risks.
15:53But of course the other risk to the festival’s
longevity is that the neighbors just get sick of
15:57it. And it’s happened before. In 1992,
Anne Goodes, a Worthy Farm neighbor,
16:02erected a 30-foot white cross overlooking
the festival site from her property. As a
16:07devout Christian, Goodes was antagonistic towards
what she considered blasphemy taking place during
16:11Glastonbury, between the free love and free drugs.
And it wasn’t just her—as the festival grew, so
16:17too did the schism between it and the locals—so in
response, founder Michael Eavis developed a series
16:23of solutions that today fall under the tightly
named Event Management Plan—one that’s recorded,
16:28approved, and filed by Somerset Council. These
plans are designed to essentially contain the
16:33festival—succesfully implemented, it should
make it so the neighbors in Pilton barely
16:38perceive Glastonbury, even as their village
of a thousand effectively grows to 200,000.
16:44Of course, not everything can be contained. A
certain amount of litter, for example, is to
16:48be expected, and therefore the festival commits
to cleaning up at key sites like the surrounding
16:52streets and local train station for three weeks
before and after the event weekend. Light and
16:57noise pollution are also inevitable, so a 12:30
p.m curfew is instituted on the main stages on
17:02Friday and Saturday, along with a midnight sound
curfew on Sunday. After that point, smaller stages
17:08and venues are allowed to keep operating under
strict maximum volume conditions. In fact, to
17:12assure compliance, crews from the council patrol
locations near the festival with decibel meters
17:17until dawn. And the same goes for lighting, which
is installed specifically to “minimize the risk of
17:22nuisance” onto neighbors. Even the generators
for directional lights have decibel caps.
17:27Of course, the one thing that just simply has
to go in and out are the people. Transporting
17:33200,000 people to the middle of the countryside
is, of course, a headache. Naturally, public
17:39transportation is most efficient, least intrusive
to neighbors, and it’s the method of choice for at
17:43least a third of attendees. That includes nearly
30,000 who take the Great Western Railway, which
17:49adds more than a dozen extra trains from London
Paddington to the Castle Cary stop per day to meet
17:53demand. That stop, however, is not at the farm and
from Castle Cary Railway Station—a tiny two-track
18:00stop with little infrastructure—officials help to
guide the thousands of people onto shuttle buses
18:04which take them to the farm. Riders can only bring
what they can carry—there are no trolley carts
18:09for luggage and large items like instruments just
aren’t allowed. Buses carry another 20,000 people,
18:14who arrive in a cascade of times over the start
of the festival and are dropped off at a dedicated
18:19entrance, close to the action, for coaches.
And then, of course, there is everyone who drives,
18:24with 28,000 public cars, 5,000 campervans, and
another 12,500 vehicles for employees. Traffic
18:30management starts nearly 30 miles or 50 kilometers
away from the farm. First, there are 35 miles or
18:3656 kilometers of designated clearways, where
cars are not allowed to stop or pull over. Then
18:41there are more than 350 miles or 560 kilometers of
diversionary routes, forced one-ways, and dozens
18:47of closed exits all designed to keep traffic
moving and reduce impact on local neighborhoods.
18:52Here, roads are closed along Lottisham Road,
A37, and A361 to keep cars concentrated on
18:58thoroughfares instead of traversing through
farm lands and disrupting rural life.
19:02Residents, themselves, are given vehicle passes
to make sure they can still move around between
19:06villages unimpeded. In fact, they’re given a lot
of things. Residents of Pilton, the community most
19:12impacted, receive complimentary tickets to the
festival and the surrounding neighborhoods get
19:15a number of price-tiered tickets along with
a designated place to park at the festival.
19:20Officials also set up a 24-hour hotline for noise
and light complaints. And, in the fall, organizers
19:26throw a Pilton Party—essentially a mini music
festival—as a thank you to the villagers, workers,
19:31and local people. These efforts to work with the
community instead of against it have worked. For
19:3655 years, the festival has returned, continually
growing in both numbers, stature, and scope.
19:43Music festivals are incredibly complex exercises,
and they’re incredibly risky businesses,
19:48but there’s a reason why organizers
go through all the effort and risk.
19:52Done right, they’re also incredibly successful
businesses. They’re massively popular among fans,
19:58and also among artists. In fact, they’re some of
the most attractive gigs out there—for headliners,
20:03the pay is massive; for emerging artists, the
crowds are massive. And ultimately this makes
20:08sense. For a festival to build a 200,000
person city on some empty cow pasture,
20:13there must be a very good reason why.
So let’s say that now that you’ve learned
20:19about the logistics of music festivals you want
to learn about the logistics of ski resorts or
20:23search and rescue or commercial fishing or the
Hajj or coal mining or arms manufacturing. Well
20:28boy do I have news for you. We made a whole
series called the Logistics of X that dives
20:33into those exact subjects. That’s one of almost
a dozen different Nebula Originals produced by
20:38the Wendover team—we’ve also made a documentary
about what happens when you're a tiny Alaskan
20:42town almost entirely dependent on cruise ship
tourism and then COVID stops that entire industry.
20:47We made a documentary about the political
kerfuffles that led to most of the western
20:50half of the US relying on the Colorado River
to deliver them more fresh water than the river
20:54actually does—the consequences are bad, by the
way. We made a documentary about what happens when
20:58you’re a tiny British territory in the middle of
the South Atlantic who was only ever connected to
21:01the world by a week-long ferry but now you open
an airport in 2016 and your entire way of life
21:05changes. And we’ve made even more than just that,
but it’s worth knowing that it’s not just us:
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Everyone uploads their regular videos there
21:15ad and sponsorship free, and plenty go on to
make other great Nebula Originals. I think
21:19Wendover viewers would particularly enjoy 17
Pages, which is a documentary by Bobby Broccoli
21:24about one of the biggest scientific controversies
of the 20th century. It’s really well-made and,
21:29frankly, mindblowing. If you value high-quality,
thoughtful, independent entertainment, then Nebula
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