big day out sydney

enjoy the [slide]show

Big Day Out - the largest and most-attended music festival on the Australian summer circuit - was a day riddled with highs, lows and everything in between. To start with, Biblical is an appropriate choice of word to describe the weather - a combination of insane heat (a woman walked past shouting “42.3 degrees Celcius!”), horizontally gusting winds, extremely large and painful rain pellets (hail?), and ultimately a perfectly clear night sky. There were thousands of partially-dressed girls streaked with fake tan, shirtless men galore (some whom should have kept their oversized rigs under wraps), an infinite number of hideous tattoos, over 300 arrests, and record water prices – a brutal $5 per bottle. And so it begins…

Kasabian - English quartet Kasabian leapt onto the stage with a startling display of energy - considering their shoes were probably melting to the boards. Touring with a few extra members, the band put on a real, very loud rock show - quite the departure from the middle-of-the-road Britpop from their early days. Lead singer Tom Meighan is of course a wanker with a gigantic ego, but - credit where it’s due etc - he had the huge crowd eating up all the rock star chest-thumping and knee-dropping he could muster - particularly on their most popular tunes like "Shoot the Runner" and "Fire". Promising start to the day.

Passion Pit – Despite the dangerous hype attached to it, their debut album Manners was a highlight of 2009. I assumed their unique electro-pop tunes would be impossibly hard to translate into a live format but I'll be darned. Michael Angelakos’ crazy falsetto was pitch perfect and his energy incredible – especially considering the band was playing in the day’s hottest slot. The rest of the band – juggling synths, keyboards, guitar, samples, bass and drumkit between three – were latex tight, producing an explosive, sparkling, bleeping racket of pure pop joy. Anyone that can make several thousand people dance with gay abandon in 40 degree heat is riding a pretty rad wave. “The Reeling”, “Sleepyhead”, “Little Secrets” and a cover of The Cranberries “Dreams” were highlights. A real revelation. I danced AND whistled.

The Decemberists - No pretences or rock star posturing from the Decemberists, just incredibly talented musicians performing great songs. Each band member plays several instruments (including a steel pedal named "Kate" spelt in hand-stuck diamantes), but it’s hard to be the unique instrument that is Colin Meloy's voice - so distinct and clear it could cut through glass. The set was an enthralling collection of songs that felt like the soundtrack to a gothic western flick. Especially beautiful moments in the set were: a rousing rendition of the murderous ballad "The Rake's Song", "The Perfect Crime No. 2", older single "Billy Liar", and finally a loud, haunting performance of "O Valencia". There was no other crowd throughout the day that was ever as still or as silent as the one absorbed in The Decemberists.

The Horrors - Much hyped "It" band whose Interpol-meets-My-Bloody-Valentine-meets-emo schtick didn't manage to hit the mark and didn't convince us that the huge amount of attention they've received is necessarily deserved. My take? - A too-serious attempt at being the 21st Century Joy Division complete with nu-goth black attire, feedback laden noise/shoegaze with sludgy percussion, and humourless pained intensity in the performances… I just don't know - it was all a little bit obvious and cringey. Perhaps one of my neighbours put it best: "Shit."

Dizzee Rascal – One of the day’s best moments was when 20,000+ people jumpied in unison as the heavens opened suggesting maybe grime-hop-electro-step-garage-skank-whatevs had the power to summon the gods. “Jus’ A Rascal” was suitably hysterical. “Fix Up, Look Sharp” was amazing. Those of us old enough to remember it sang the hook to “Dirtee Cash” and pretended we were ‘street’ enough to sing it without irony. And when his DJ dropped the dreaded bass line of club jam “Bonkers” the crowd went bezerk. A pair of crutches could be seen waving in the air, and a woman who was at least 50 years old was ripping it up in a tracksuit and sensible shoes. Bonkers indeed.
Lily Allen – Poor Lily. It really isn’t fair.
Unfortunately, her sound people just did not have it under control. The mix was WAY too bass heavy so her vocals were barely audible - very disappointing, especially on a day when the sound was generally fantastic. On the bright side she looked really nice in paisley drapes and fluoro yellow Louboutins. And her less critical, more forgiving fans were oblivious to the sound issues and sang along to every word in great rapture.

Devendra Banhart – Did anyone order a Venezuelan dreamboat? While hordes flocked to see Lily Allen, a few hundred fortunate folk were lucky enough to trip the tropical freak folk fantastic with Devendra Banhart and his band The Grogs. Joyous to watch purely for the fact that the band were clearly having an amazing time playing together - not to mention the fact that they sounded superb Included in the set was a fabulous mariachi-inspired “Carmensita”, a fruity jangling version of “Lover” (most of the females collectively wet themselves), and finishing with “I Feel Just Like A Child” at which point perfectly normal people started dancing about with their arms swaying loosely in the breeze like hippies on acid. "He's so 'Woodstock'", one pal aptly commented. "He's pants'd Natalie Portman", said another. Favourite set of the day.

The Mars Volta – Totally self-indulgent jam session by the incredible prog post-rock outfit, who I have seen absolutely dominate a festival crowd on previous occasions. Only the really hardcore fans enjoyed it (and boy did they) – but there was much too much improvisational wankery for the rest of us. Such a shame. As one festival-goer suggested: “bring back At the Drive-in.”

Muse – Child prodigy Matt Bellamy and co have done their fair share of touring since they became totally MASSIVE and so have mastered the art of Putting On A Rock Show. Take-no-prisoners guitar shredding galore, flawless vocals, and songs so “epic” they can't possibly be serious. Bellamy is the most unlikely of rockstars - a skinny, pale, classical music prodigy - and yet to see him wielding his guitar skywards like a superhero you couldn't help but think that it is a gigantic extension of his penis. WHhat?... Anyway – big things were expected and they delivered – penis references or no..

The final verdict:
With more than 100 shows over its 28 year run, Big Day Out operates akin to a Austrian made industrial drill (or any other well oiled machine). Nary a hiccup along the road – performances ran to the proposed playing times (bravo!), bathrooms (a generous choice of word for the dismountables) were numerous, booze was plentiful, attendees were scantily clothed, and we survived the locust storm. Til next year…


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