Another year, another Splendour In The Grass and yet another
year where I find myself recovering from too much alcohol, nicotine, sun and
time spent on my feet. Was it worth it? I keep going back, so I guess that
answers the question.
After the previous two years where SITG found a new home in Woodford
just West of Caboolture QLD, the event returned to its spiritual home of Byron Bay
and in particular the Belongil Fields. Here’s hoping the organisation can sort
out the much publicised purchase of the block of land four kilometres west of Bryon
as, in my opinion, Belongil has just about run its course.
Not only was the North Beach Campsite commute a ball-ache
for campers (despite the free buses) but the seating for punters inside the
venue was sparse and almost non-existent. Even without Friday’s pissing
exhibition displayed from the heights above, many would’ve found it difficult
to find space in order to take some weight off.
The organisers have said in the past that they attempt to
progress the show. Line-up aside, I think they had the venue spot on for the
previous two years, even if by accident and not design. Some things happen for
a reason. A site like Woodford was made for an event of SITG’s magnitude. And it only gets used once a year for the
Woodford Folk Festival. A complete waste and those of you who can relate will
agree. The Amphitheatre alone is one of the finest live outdoor venues in this
country, yet we fail to utilise its greatness.
Anyway, enough of the logistics. We go to these events for
music and although the line-up was patchy at best, I find that such
circumstances are a nice ingredient to add to the whole festival experience.
You can spend time at your campsite inhaling the vibe as opposed to running
around from stage to stage seeing bands all day.
More often than not Friday is the biggest day on Splendour’s
bill. This year proved no different. Youth
Lagoon played to a rather large
crowd which grew even larger midway through their set due to the heavens
opening up and turning the site into a mud bath for the remainder of the
weekend. A nice set to start the day and the only act I saw until
attempting to line-up for The Shins.
That didn’t work, due to sinking in mud. Needless to say I wasn't left heartbroken, as I find their
new album is rather average.
The GW McLennan stage never fails with quality. Over the
years I’ve been wowed by great performances by the likes of Broken Social Scene, Band of Horse and Mogwai. The Afghan Whigs are well and truly added to this list and in fact now stand on top of it. Greg Duli’s soul boy essence was the perfect foil for blues licks and
white noise delivered from Rick McCollum and Dave Rosser, respectively. The latter's inclusion into the band has added an extra dimension to their live performance, with Duli obviously impressed with Rosser's work in his other band, The Twilight Singers. This was easily
my set of the year, as The Afghans’ tore through classics off “Gentlemen”
(title track and ‘Debonair”, "1965" (‘Crazy’, ‘66’) and “Black Love” (‘Crime
Scene Part 1’, ‘My Enemy’). As close to flawless as I’ve seen since Mogwai
played the same stage at the same festival 12 months prior.
Explosions In The Sky
capped off a brilliant day, taking its audience into a happy place,
knocking out elegance such as ‘Your Hand in Mine’ and the brilliant ethereal,
‘The Moment When We’re Alone’. It was as if I floated back to the campsite on Friday night, thanks to the adorable Texans.
Saturday was cruisy, mainly because of the anticipation for a band I'd never seen. Mudhoney lived up to my expectations, blasting out a set of hits. They stole the show and again this happened at the GW McLennan tent, as they ripped out classics such as ‘In and Out of Grace’,
‘Touch Me I’m Sick’ and the face melting closer (and a personal favourite),
‘Hate the Police’. Mark Arm, like Iggy Pop, minus the leather, pranced around
the stage for the second half of the set letting the vitriolic toxins flow from
his body. Slacker grunge riff-o-rolla at its optimum.
If Mark Arm was a highlight, then Lana Del Rey was at the opposite end of the spectrum. The less said
the better however all was lost when she held a knife to the throat of
Nirvana’s “Heart Shaped Box”. Her beats were substituted for a white grand
piano that would've looked better off in Elton John’s lounge room. Need I say more?
Dirty Three are
just about the best band to come out of this country in the last twenty years.
Warren Ellis is quite simply a king; Jim White’s not far behind and in saying
that, neither is Mick Turner. Ellis’ in-between song-banter is the finest going
around and perhaps the finest that’s ever been, as he conjured yarns pertaining
to Bono’s bizarre love triangle with Gina Rinehart and Paul McCartney,
eventually digressing to a Bunnings Warehouse in Port Macquarie. They were
similar anecdotes to the ones he delivered earlier in the year when the band
toured, but it never became dull. The world doesn’t produce Warren Ellis’
anymore and I’m quite content about this fact. The most gorgeous moment in
their set was when the pace slowed for "Toward
he Low Sun’s" great ‘Ashen Snow’, which then bled into Ocean Songs'" closing track, ‘Ends of the Earth’, two songs destined
for weddings and funerals for long time D3 fans all throughout Australia. The
rendition of ‘Sue’s Last Ride’ was physically staining for the crowd who
decided to stay and fend off the cold (many probaly wished they could’ve had Warren’s
bear-like jacket, which was also the butt of a joke from the bearded "lord"). Saturday complete.
Sunday was Sunday, tired frames battling mud and hangovers
dragged themselves for one last dance with Australia’s premier camping
festival. Django Django made it
worth it, feeding off their Beta Band pastiche to render some dance rock delight for
those willing to listen. It created a good atmosphere, which was made all the
better from my campsite neighbour and friend, Sam, who continually wigged out
to their sounds wearing a Flash Comic Superhero outfit. Brilliant.
The Kooks didn’t
fill me with any great enthusiasm, but not many Soccer Am bands do. The crowd dug them, so maybe I’m missing
something?
The Smashing Pumpkins
were the last band of the festival, the headline act of the Sunday and the only
headliner I got to see (due to clashes, plus those wondering about At The
Drive-In, see a previous post on this blog; that opinion hasn’t changed). Okay,
so Billy Corgan is a dubious character. I could use stronger words but will
refrain. However the dubious character was one of my biggest heroes’ way back
when. Rather than bore you with reasons as to why he was held in such esteem,
I’ll bore you with the fact that he and his band put on a damn good show. Whether I can class it as a 'good' or 'surprising' may hold some debate, but I'm going with the former for now. Along
with ‘Zero’ ‘Today’, ‘Bullet with Butterfly Wings’, ‘Tonight Tonight’ and ‘Ava
Adore’, the new material sounded tight. ‘The Celestial’ is the best song off
their new album, “Oceania” and Corgan
delivered it with aplomb, as he did with the album’s title track. I’m a little
suspect on the song titles, though. Isis vibes, anyone? I’ll leave that alone
for now.
All said and done, Splendour is Splendour. If you have a bad
time at this festival you’re obviously not trying hard enough. There’s a vibe
at this festival. It’s hard to explain but it’s there. Having now been to this festival
seven times, no matter what kind of crowd it attracts that vibe doesn’t waver.
For all my objections about the venue earlier in this piece, there’s no escaping
the fact that irrespective of where this event is held in the future, Splendour
In The Grass will always be Splendour In The Grass.
By Simon K.
