IT'S been a sad week for lovers of the music festival, with Glastonbury organisers trying desperately to think of reasons why the expected rush to register for tickets hasn't happened (and no, it's not Jay-Z's fault) while Leeds and Reading have sold out despite having the least inspiring line-up since, well, Keane last year at the Isle Of Wight.

Firstly, it's not at all surprising that demand for Glastonbury tickets hasn't been as rabid as expected, and it's not down to American rappers or the mud.

I considered registering for the ticket "lottery", then I realised I couldn't be bothered. The nice thing about festivals is taking 83 of your closest mates and creating some sort of muddy, music-loving commune for a weekend. Not filling in more forms than a tax return and carrying enough ID to ensure your passage through American immigration.

Secondly, there's something ridiculous going on with ticket prices at the moment. I'm still too young to use Oil Of Olay, and even I can remember a time when a weekend ticket for Reading (Leeds didn't exist back then) cost around the sixty quid mark. Now you're talking about a ton for even the smaller "boutique" festivals, and around £150 for any of the "major" names. You could see Radiohead twice for that money. Or 10 exciting, reasonably priced, new bands.

It's the boutique festivals we'll be going to, as it happens, because at least the likes of Latitude, Wychwood and Bestival aren't dominated by million-selling US rawk bands and their fans who haven't bought an album for the last decade. And Pete Doherty won't be there.

No, I suspect that for people who actually like music the choice between watching Babyshambles at Leeds or Sigur Ros at Latitude will be a fairly easy one.

Forget the Manic Street Preachers, I'm getting excited about Islands Lost At Sea at Wychwood.