British punk duo Bob Vylan’s Glastonbury stunt, chanting “death to the IDF,” has landed them in hot water, with their U.S. visas now yanked, as the Daily Mail reports.
At the U.K.’s largest music festival over the weekend, the band, led by singer Pascal Robinson-Foster, sparked outrage by inciting crowds to call for the deaths of Israeli soldiers, while Palestine flags waved. The performance, briefly streamed on BBC iPlayer, was pulled after 40 minutes of controversy. Festival organizer Emily Eavis condemned the chants as crossing a line.
Bob Vylan, formed in Ipswich in 2017, is no stranger to provocative lyrics tackling racism, capitalism, and the monarchy. Their 2020 debut album, We Live Here, struggled for release due to its “extreme” content, as Robinson-Foster noted. Yet, their Glastonbury antics pushed boundaries too far for many.
Crowds at Glastonbury joined Bob Vylan’s inflammatory chants, amplifying the controversy across social media. Republican Sen. Ted Cruz slammed the display, calling it “truly sick” and tying it to progressive excesses. Florida Congressman Randy Fine vowed action, responding to calls from groups like Stop Antisemitism.
Stop Antisemitism demanded the band’s U.S. visas be revoked, labeling Robinson-Foster an “antisemite” unfit for American stages. The U.S. Department of State acted swiftly, canceling the duo’s visas on Monday. Deputy Secretary Christopher Landau declared that foreigners glorifying violence are unwelcome.
Robinson-Foster, 34, doubled down on Instagram the next day, defiantly stating, “I said what I said.” He claimed inspiration from his daughter’s school survey responses, arguing that speaking out drives change. This justification rang hollow for critics who saw only hate in his words.
Bob Vylan was set to join American-Canadian singer Grandson on a U.S. tour starting in Spokane, Washington, in October. The visa revocation has derailed those plans, leaving the band stranded across the Atlantic. Their absence from the tour underscores the cost of reckless rhetoric.
Avon and Somerset Police are now investigating, combing through video evidence to determine if criminal offenses occurred. The scrutiny highlights the fine line between free speech and incitement. Bob Vylan’s Glastonbury gamble may yet face legal consequences.
Robinson-Foster’s Instagram post waxed poetic about inspiring future generations to “pick up the torch.” Yet, his call to action -- marching, campaigning, and shouting -- seems less noble when paired with chants targeting soldiers. The post drew both support and vitriol, exposing deep divisions.
Glastonbury’s Emily Eavis issued a stern rebuke, insisting there’s no place for hate speech or incitement at the festival. Her statement, while firm, came after the BBC streamed the performance for 40 minutes before cutting it off. Critics argue the delay enabled the spread of divisive rhetoric.
The band’s history of challenging norms, from criticizing landlords to mocking the monarchy, has long courted controversy. Their five albums, including We Live Here, blend raw energy with social commentary, earning a loyal following. But Glastonbury’s global stage magnified their misstep.
Robinson-Foster’s emphasis on fatherhood, with his daughter naming their debut album and gracing a single’s cover, contrasts sharply with his festival behavior. Promoting healthy school dinners is laudable; inciting violence is not. The disconnect undermines his moral posturing.
Bob Vylan’s defenders argue their art provokes necessary debate, but their Glastonbury chants crossed into dangerous territory. Free speech doesn’t shield calls for violence, especially not on a stage as prominent as Glastonbury’s. The band’s visa loss serves as a wake-up call.
The U.S. decision, backed by figures like Cruz and Fine, reflects a broader push to curb imported divisiveness. Landau’s statement was clear: America won’t roll out the welcome mat for those peddling hatred. Bob Vylan’s exclusion is a policy rooted in principle.
As investigations continue, the band’s future performances hang in the balance. Their Glastonbury moment, meant to ignite change, instead lit a fuse of backlash. In a world quick to amplify outrage, Bob Vylan learned that words have weight and consequences.
