It was the moment Glastonbury 2025 truly belonged to the legends. The kind of moment that people will talk about for decades, the kind that makes you glad you braved the mud, the crowds, the endless queues for a pint of lukewarm cider. As the sun dipped behind the famous Pyramid Stage, a hush fell over Worthy Farm, the anticipation fizzing through the air. And then, with all the swagger and charm of a man who has spent his entire life performing for the world, Sir Rod Stewart strode onto the stage and, for one glorious hour, reminded us all why he is one of the last true icons of British music.
At 80 years old, the Maggie May hitmaker could have been forgiven for taking it easy, for settling into the comfortable routine of nostalgia tours and greatest hits albums. But Rod Stewart has never been one to do things by halves. He didn’t just turn up at Glastonbury – he owned it. With a voice as gravelly and powerful as ever, and a twinkle in his eye that belied the years, he delivered a set that was equal parts celebration and farewell, a love letter to the fans who have stood by him through every reinvention, every heartbreak, every high and low.
But behind the scenes, the story was even more extraordinary. Just weeks before his Glastonbury triumph, Stewart had been forced to cancel a string of US dates, the result of a nasty bout of flu that left him bed-bound and, by his own admission, frightened. For a man who has always seemed indestructible, it was a sobering reminder that even legends are mortal. Yet, against the advice of doctors and the worries of his family, Rod was determined not to let his fans down. Glastonbury, he insisted, was non-negotiable.
And so, as the world watched, Rod Stewart delivered the performance of a lifetime. He was joined on stage by old friend and Faces bandmate Ronnie Wood, as well as the indomitable Lulu, both of whom brought their own magic to the occasion. But it was Rod who shone brightest, belting out classics like “Maggie May,” “You Wear It Well,” and “Sailing” with the kind of passion that only comes from knowing this might be the last time. Each note was charged with emotion, each lyric a testament to a career that has spanned six decades and touched millions.
The crowd, a sea of faces young and old, responded in kind. They sang, they danced, they wept. For many, it was the realisation that they were witnessing something historic – not just another festival set, but the closing of a chapter in British music history. Social media exploded with praise, fans from all corners of the globe rushing to share their awe. “You were magic, Rod. Best by far all weekend,” gushed one admirer. “Sadly wasn’t there, watched you on TV. You were bloody amazing. National treasure. Thank you xx,” tweeted another. The superlatives kept coming: “One of the best performances ever.” “You blew Glastonbury out of the water.” “You are truly a LEGEND, my friend. You are FOREVER YOUNG.”
Rod himself seemed almost overwhelmed by the outpouring of love. On Tuesday, he broke his silence, sharing a video montage of his time on the Pyramid Stage. The caption was simple, heartfelt, and utterly British: “You lot were magic.” Four words, but they said everything. Later, he tweeted: “What an honour to play the Pyramid Stage and what a crowd.” For a man who has played every venue worth playing, who has sold out stadiums on every continent, the sense of gratitude was palpable.
But it was in the aftermath, away from the glare of the spotlights, that Rod Stewart’s emotional side truly emerged. In an interview with Jo Whiley for the BBC, he admitted to being “a little bit teary eyed.” It was, he said, “such an emotional event. Especially if you’re British. This is our Woodstock and there’s nothing bigger in the world and we do it the best.” The magnitude of the occasion, the weight of expectation, the sheer joy of connecting with an audience on such a scale – it all came crashing in. “This is my Glastonbury moment. My World Cup final. I’ve got to sit down tomorrow and take it all in, how responsive the audience were. I could retire tomorrow – but I won’t.”
That last line hung in the air, both a promise and a warning. Because, as Rod Stewart has hinted in recent months, the end may finally be in sight. After decades of relentless touring, he has announced plans to step back from large-scale world tours after 2025, preferring instead to focus on smaller, more intimate gigs. It’s a decision born not of fatigue, but of a desire to savour the twilight of his career, to connect with fans in a way that stadium shows simply can’t allow. “I want to feel the room, see the faces, share the stories,” he explained. “That’s what music is all about.”
For those who have followed his journey – from the smoky clubs of London in the 60s, through the wild years with The Faces, the solo superstardom, the reinventions, the scandals, the comebacks – it’s hard not to feel a pang of sadness. Rod Stewart has always been more than just a singer. He’s a survivor, a chancer, a romantic, a rogue. He’s the man who could make you laugh and cry in the same song, who wore his heart on his sleeve and never apologised for his excesses. To imagine a world without Rod on the road is to imagine a world just a little less colourful, a little less fun.
But if Glastonbury was a goodbye – and Rod insists it isn’t, not yet – it was a fitting one. The setlist was a masterclass in showmanship, each song chosen with care, each moment calibrated for maximum impact. There were the hits, of course, but also the deep cuts, the fan favourites, the songs that mean the most to him. The chemistry with Ronnie Wood was electric, a reminder of the wild camaraderie that defined The Faces. Lulu’s cameo was pure joy, her voice blending with Rod’s in a way that only old friends can manage.
The atmosphere was electric, the crowd hanging on every word, every gesture. Even the weather seemed to cooperate, the rain holding off just long enough for Rod to bask in the adoration of his people. It was, by any measure, a triumph – the kind of performance that reminds you why you fell in love with music in the first place.
And yet, beneath the bravado, there was a vulnerability, a sense of finality. Rod Stewart is 80 now, and while he remains in remarkable shape – dapper, energetic, still capable of high-kicking his way across the stage – he is not immune to the ravages of time. Last summer, he was forced to cancel a series of tour dates, including his landmark 200th Las Vegas residency show, due to health concerns. The flu that felled him in June was a stark reminder that even the strongest must eventually yield.
But if Rod is afraid, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he faces the future with the same mixture of bravado and humility that has defined his career. “Yes, they do [feel more poignant],” he told Jo Whiley, when asked if his performances have taken on new significance since turning 80. “Because I won’t be back. This is my Glastonbury moment. My World Cup final.” There was a pause, a catch in his voice. “I’ve got to sit down tomorrow and take it all in, how responsive the audience were. I could retire tomorrow – but I won’t.”
For the fans, the message was clear: cherish these moments, because they won’t last forever. Rod Stewart has given everything to his craft, to his audience, to the music that has defined his life. He has survived the excesses of rock and roll, the heartbreaks, the scandals, the changing tides of taste and fashion. He has reinvented himself time and again, always staying one step ahead, always finding a way to stay relevant.
And now, as he contemplates the end of the road, he does so with grace, with humour, with the same irrepressible spirit that made him a star in the first place. “You lot were magic,” he told the Glastonbury crowd. But the truth is, it was Rod who brought the magic, who reminded us all what it means to be alive, to feel, to connect.
As the final notes rang out across Worthy Farm, as the crowd roared their thanks and the lights dimmed, there was a sense that something special had happened. Not just a great gig, but a passing of the torch, a celebration of a life well-lived, a career that has touched millions. For a brief, shining moment, we were all young again, swept up in the music, the memories, the sheer joy of being part of something bigger than ourselves.
Rod Stewart may not be back at Glastonbury. He may never play another stadium show. But his legacy is secure, his place in the pantheon of British music assured. He has given us the soundtrack to our lives, the songs that mark our happiest moments, our heartbreaks, our hopes and dreams. And for that, we owe him everything.
So here’s to you, Sir Rod. Thank you for the music, the memories, the magic. You are, and always will be, forever young.
