Meredith Music Festival

you 'right for a beer?

If there's one thing that bothers me about music festivals it is that there is either too much booze or too much chai. There's a fine line between having a decent supply of liquid to keep you going or it being the fuel for your energy, rather than the music. And if there's something comforting about festivals it's the scouting around for a place to set up a temporary living quarter for the weekend. It is an instinctive search for territory that sets in motion the ritual of satisfying our other primal urges.

Friday afternoon started off with a good band playing pretty boring, heard it all before Hendrix inspired rock. In hindsight, in terms of being derivative Peeping Tom paled in comparison to Airborne and Wolfmother and they were less self-conscious. Melbourne kids British India made out like they owned the stage as they declared incredibly banal things about fashion and being edgy. Continuing with the urban motif the CityCityCity entourage figuratively moved out of the share house with Architecture in Helsinki and onto the Meredith stage. But they were even more pretentious and boring and their soundscapey music reminded me of those horrible music video clips when there are shots of crowds moving through the city in fast forward and then the same shots slowed back down again, repeated over and over again.

Okkervill River was the only band whose album I was inspired to purchase. It was good that I'd done a little research and knew that lead singer Will Sheff had been suffering greatly from a very sore throat otherwise I would have been less forgiving of his often strained and off-key singing. He won me over with his earnestness and the harmonica was a great touch in the open air. It was at that point I felt the purpose of this festival to be most fulfilled. I loved watching the drummer, Travis Nelson exercise restraint as Sheff nearly exploded with emotion on stage, especially in the song about America. I thought there was something funny about the whole scene: me, trying to form an opinion about the Austin band and them, earnestly playing to a bunch of hooligans at an outdoor rock festival on a hill among the gum trees. And nonetheless I felt like something that wasn't premeditated was actually happening. After OkkervillRiver's introduction of the harmonica to Meredith I found myself traipsing back to the campsite with my posse to drink a couple of beers and get back to Mr. Harmonica himself. Listening to Blonde on Blonde made us realise once again how great Dylan was and so few will ever be in the same realm. Unfortunately I missed You Am I and The Mess Hall who both received great reviews from my peers.

Saturday began with The Grates who were energetic and vibrant and probably the most perfectly timed band of the festival. A kind of Joanna Newsom meets Frente, meets Siouxsie and the Banshees. They welcomed in the sun and told it who was boss. By the time Architecture in Helsinki began playing, the sun was definitely giving them a run for their money and I was perched under a tree catching up with a friend. The Kills made me don a hat, get my arse up and move closer to the stage. I bought their attitude but not their album. They exuded sexuality in a similar vain to Interpol with their distanced and dark veneer. I get the feeling that if I had a fringe I may also be taken more seriously as an artist. True Live I could give or take but I couldn't be particularly bothered with fusion this weekend. Billy Childish was mostly novelty and uniforms. I love the Lo-Fi rock thing and it works a treat with dusty toes and straw hats but unfortunately the sound was pretty god-awful. I took a break just as Stephen Malkmus came on with the Jicks but made sure I was back to check out the much anticipated Warnambool boys rock out as the evening began to kick in. Although they may not be dong anything new or interesting Airborne created an atmosphere that was so textbook Australian rock that they actually nailed it. They are virtually an AC/DC tribute band but they made the crowd go nuts and there were fists in the air all across the green. Wolfmother were good but at this point you needed a ladder to actually be able to see. Between wading through rubbish and people I found myself wondering why I was struggling. After not being able to find a ladder I decided it was time to hit the hay. I rose again to find mounds of rubbish spread around the entire grassy area designated for the crowds. The combination of Matt Walker and Ashley Davies Woodfordesque vibe combined with me trying to clear a space amongst the piles of beer cans in order to sit down was not quite working for me. I turned to my tired buddies and said "Meredith Valley Cheese?" As we walked back to pile into the pre-packed car I thought about the Super dome in America and pondered the fact that we had royally fucked up a forest by shitting all over it in less than three days and we were there by choice, asking each other over and over again, "you right for beer"?