Splendour in the Grass

Ahh, Splendour. The sweet odour of woodchips and urine hangs heavy in the air as I join the thousands of people steadily filling the Belongil Fields camping ground. I have my ‘must see’ band timetable crudely (lovingly) covered in black pen and I’m mentally prepared for unwanted contact with a lot of strangers and a diet of shit food.

As I look around I realise that I have not received the ‘Where possible, please adhere to the wearing of headbands and zany costumes,’ memo that was clearly distributed with the tickets but never mind …the sky is blue and I’m ready to go.

First up I drift past the main stage and catch Tokyo Police Club. Their sound is quite large and impressive. For a band on at 1.50 they sure rock the house. And don’t the kids love it. Much pumping of fists ensues.

Down in the mix up tent those cheeky English kids Hadouken! are mixing up some phat beats. I wanted to see if, apart from having the best band name ever, Hadouken could cut it live. Their grimey electro/hip hop is received well by the people and when they charge through their version of Prodigy’s Breathe, the crowd eats it up. I eat a Dagwood dog and nod my head.

At the ‘Rabbit Hole Inn’ my new friend in the drink line explains how to hollow out your camera so you can hide drugs. His camera does look pretty good. In the background, The Music play out a nicely fleshed out set that gets lots of people moving and it occurs to me just how many of their songs I actually know. Wil Anderson pushes in and gets drinks for himself and his two friends. I start to complain but realise that he is much bigger and funnier than I am. I quietly wait in line.

Bliss ‘n Eso do a fair job of representing Australian hip hop down at the mix up tent, playing through their latest album as well as some older crowd favourites. The set feels a tad patchy though and more than a few times I had to stop break dancing like a funky mofo because of the stop/start feel. I blame the DJ. The crowd goes pretty mental when their latest single gets brought out. It sounds quite good.

Scribe’s DJ scratches like a man possesses during a set which includes current favourites like Fresh and oldies like Not Many. It is a nice, big sound. Apparently, Australia is Scribe’s favourite place to play. In any case, we all lap it up and strut around like Kiwi hip hoppers.

I realise, as I am watching The Fratellis' brand of three chord ‘rock ‘n’ roll’, that anything resembling a pulse has left the main stage. Looking around I see a lack of movement and a host of disappointed faces. I recognise one of their singles and someone in the crowd claps.

I quickly run away to the mix up tent where I am immediately rewarded with an awesome set from MSTRKRFT. It is long, it is loud and the tent is a sea of attractive people dancing to sexy music. At no point did I feel like I was allowed to stop dancing. I look at my timetable and reluctantly unhook my mouth from their rhythmic teat.

Next up there is a ‘beard off’ between Cold War Kids and Band of Horses. I initially choose Cold War Kids on the main stage. They play a couple of songs. I yawn. People restlessly sway while pretending not to look at their watches. I look at my watch and happily bugger off.

Down on the smaller stage Band of Horses play a very nice set. Everyone sings ‘No one could ever love you like I do,’ or something like that and we all wave our mobile phones in the air. I ask a nearby female if she will marry me. I settle for a ripped drink ticket. Beard off: Band of Horses -1. Cold War Kids -0.

The Living End completely blow the lid off the main stage. I don’t particularly like The Living End, but trust me when I say they are loud and they are tailor-made for the main stage. Thousands of people sing ‘We don’t need no-one, to tell us what to do….’ Etc etc, and we all simultaneously stick it to the man.

Down at Pnau there is some oversize fruit on dancing on stage and also what appears to be some kind of giant bird. Despite my hate of birds I find Pnau’s set to be a satisfying mix of crowd pleasers and just good songs. There are lots of balloons floating around. What happy chaps they are.

From happy to stupidly happy. The Polyphonic Spree has a reputation for a cracking live show. I think their music sounds great but I find their delirious happiness antics creepy. Call me cynical, but I don’t really dig the whole ‘David Koresh/we are the happiest cult on earth and we wear gospel robes because we are so happy’ vibe. I am a minority though as everyone swears their firstborn to the cult of The Polyphonic Spree.

Tricky is closing off the first night with some self indulgent screaming and some furious shaking of his dreads in the mix up tent with the backing of crunching distorted guitars and a female singer. I like the fresh sounds he is pumping out but most people want to finish off the night with a dance. Instead we tap our feet and look on in awe at Tricky’s ripped 6-pack.

Incidentally, a quick note to the assholes who organised the public buses at the end of the night…if you are going to charge ten bucks for standing room only on your shitty bus, then at least send more than two of them every half hour. It took me three hours to get home and I was cold.

Day 2.

Sure enough, there are massive delays getting into Splendour on the Sunday as police perform thorough drug testing on everyone on their way in. This allows me even more time to hang around in queues with the general public, for which I am very grateful.

When I finally do get in, Vampire Weekend are finishing up their set. Sure, I missed a lot of their set but I am treated to their fantastic single Oxford Comma and a couple of others and I am satisfied. The only way Vampire Weekend could be any cooler is if they had Robert Downey Junior playing maracas for them and we are all appropriately seduced by their twangy guitars and scruffy hair.

The Wombats hit the main stage with their guitar driven pop and ‘Cure-esque’ vocals and I suppose they are adequately marsupial like. We all dance to that ironic Joy Division track or whatever it is and it’s fun. Sure, I wouldn't go out of my way to see them again but they are suprisingly engaging.

Katalyst sound pretty good, but honestly, they are more background music as I chat to some kids dressed in black who snuck a hip flask of booze in. In between discussing the best way to sneak people into Splendour my hips involuntarily sway to the hip hop flavour.

Lyrics Born is a bit of an entertainer really. He brings the funk and people love him. As the sun disappears, he endears himself to the Byron Bay crowd by hollering at us ‘I can’t hear you Sydney!!’ And then, just to prove his geography is actually quite fucked, he does it again. But his music is engaging and energetic so we forgive him. Which proves that if you bring a tight, live funk band with half a dozen tracks that everyone can sing too, you are allowed to be geographically challenged.

I decide to watch The Vines on the main stage and they are OK. They sound like a really, really good teenage band and I like that. Songs off their new album sound particulary good. Their renowned patchiness does them no favours, but let’s face it…if you thought they were going to be any different, you have been living in the land where Amy Whinehouse doesn’t smoke crack.

If the Vines are a talented teenage band then The Panics are all grown up class. Their latest album Cruel Guards gets a strong thrashing and that’s what everyone wants to hear. As far as festival sing alongs go, Don’t Fight It is completely irresistible. Everyone sways; raise their mobile phones in unison and I feel inclined to put my arm around strangers. Just in time, I remember about the dangers of cross infection and I wash my hands with anti bacterial gel.

Strangely, Sigur Ros are playing on the main stage, but they pull it off with only a hint of sound difficulties. The lead singer wears some peacock feathers in his hair and he croons like some beautiful alien. They play songs from their latest album and my serotonin levels go into some kind of overdrive.

My joy is short lived as I get trapped in the crush of people off to see The Presets. It seems like everyone on the planet came to see The Presets, which is a sign of their current popularity. I come to a stalemate 50 metres back from the mix up tent amongst a jungle of sweaty people and decide to try my luck from there. Alas, the sound is meshed in with the howling guitars of Wolfmother from the main stage, resulting in a lot of us with our heads up each other’s armpits and not much boogieing to show for it. On my tiptoes I can see that people closer to the stage are thoroughly enjoying themselves and every now and again the wind blows a catchy Preset tune in our direction.

On my drive home I wonder if, maybe, tolerating all the dirty people, smelly toilets and endless queues at festivals makes seeing those really special acts all the more enjoyable? The answer, of course, is no. That would be like ordering a pie with a turd on top instead of just a pie. But until there comes a time where that magical festival appears where I am the only person allowed in, Splendour in the Grass is one of the ones that continues to be deservedly popular, mainly because of the lack of twats who attend and the all round ‘chilled vibes’. As my sore head hits the pillow I have fantastic dreams of peacock feathers, urinal cakes and warm showers.

Share this review on Facebook