splendour in the grass, 2010

The line-up for this year’s Splendour in the Grass Arts & Music Festival rendered me, at times, unable to breathe out of excitement. The thought of seeing the Strokes live kept me in a state of perpetual bliss both in the lead-up to the festival as well as in its aftermath and the actual experience of it even made the stress of getting tickets well worth the anxiety.

I have no idea what Splendour kicked off with, but my experience begins with Violent Soho, a four piece from Brisbane who are pretty much like what you’d expect of a band called Violent Soho, with their grunge sound and long hair to match. Impressive as they are, the volume is too much for my delicate eardrums at 1pm and I quickly slink out to see Dan Sultan, who impresses with his blues-y rock, energy and frequent chuckles at his own jokes.

Next up on my itinerary is Washington, who showcases new material from the album that she, incidentally, released that day – ‘I Believe You, Liar’ – as well as some older favourites in songs like ‘Clementine’. Having heard her music before seeing a photo of her, I had been semi-distressed by the fact that she did not look at all like I expected her to, and I am now again surprised by how short she is. Of course, this has nothing at all to do with her music.

A quick detour to see Yeasayer, and then back to the tent with my comrades to refuel for the evening. Our accommodation in Tent City (a rather good option if you’re ever in the position of not being able to take camping gear to a festival) is unfortunately located a hill away from the Splendour site and I hear the opening to ‘Beat the Devil’s Tattoo’ as I am running toward the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. Although they are playing at the Amphitheatre, the ease with which I get only a few rows from the front of the stage both disappoints and delights me, knowing they are probably one of the most undeservedly underrated bands in the world.

I stick around for Angus & Julia Stone, noteworthy for Julia’s superb use of a trumpet (although after seeing her play an electric guitar some months ago, I don’t know that anything she did could surprise me anymore) and pseudo-rap during ‘Private Lawns’.

The disappointment of the evening is Lisa Mitchell, whose seeming self-doubt is endearing but does not lend itself well to stage presence. She comes across as soft-spoken and sweet, but also like she could do with a swift kick of confidence that it is her name alone on the program, and not the four girls who comprise ‘Golden Arrow’ and, at times, threaten to upstage her.

Grizzly Bear finish off my evening with their delivery of an astounding performance and harmonies that’ll make your spine feel wobbly, even if you’re not a huge fan of the band (though I seem to be the only person in the world who falls into this category).

Saturday afternoon I catch Clare Bowditch, before muscling into the crowd that’s formed for Perth’s closest approximation to 60’s psychedelia, Tame Impala. As the evening wears on and the weaker moshers falter, I get my first introduction to Florence Welch (I am ashamed to admit that it took me this long to hear any music by Florence + the Machine and I’m not even sure what caused the delay; possibly it was that I first heard of the Brian Jonestown Massacre when ‘Dog Days are Over’ was gaining popularity and any more amazing musicians may have just blown my mind), who leaves every man in the crowd ready and willing to be Mr. And-the-Machine. She moves with an elegance that makes you wonder if she’s actually doing it in slow motion, and shows that her voice doesn’t adhere to the limits heard on ‘Lungs’.

The Strokes follow, drawing the largest crowd that Splendour sees this year, and with good reason. Delivering a sublime performance, the band members also share smiles rarely (read: never) seen in their promo shots. Or at least Julian Casablancas and Albert Hammond, Jr. do; I am jammed firmly into my front row position and unable to devote equal attention to the facial expressions of the other three. My hips stay bruised for over a week from being continually slammed into the metal barrier, but the euphoria of seeing the forerunners of New York’s music scene inhibits any feeling of pain.

I settle in with a coffee to see some programs at the Forum on Sunday, including a panel on threats to live music in Australia, a debate on whether pirates are heroes or villains – a discussion that oddly includes both illegal downloading and whaling – and Wil Anderson leads a talk with Sam Cutler (former Rolling Stones and Grateful Dead tour manager), David Bromley (paints rockstars nude), Edward Coutts Davidson (interior designer and friend to Madonna) and Dan Sultan (who doesn’t want you to vote for Tony Abbott).

Though it is the final evening of Splendour, its organisers conveniently created a schedule in which I saw my most beloved bands on Friday and Saturday, leaving me free to run amok. My partner-in-crime, Chinchilla, and I wrangle our way backstage (and then out and back in again) and find it to be utterly boring. Not only are the Strokes not hanging out just waiting for our arrival, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone around except for a few security guards. The sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll are gone or at least hidden from commoners’ eyes, and all that’s left is a parking lot.

Chinchilla and I eventually find ourselves desperately wanting to get out, because while being bored backstage is preferable to being bored not backstage, it doesn’t beat not being bored. So we finally find an exit in time for me to see Richard Ashcroft lapse in thinking he’s a Gallagher, as well as a far less anticlimactic set by Empire of the Sun. Kylie Minogue is the only Australian who could possibly rival the visual orchestration involved in the performance, though even her hot pants probably couldn’t outdo Luke Steele’s elaborate outfits. Empire of the Sun is a treat to the senses before I retire to my tent, gently lulled to sleep by the Pixies.

If you missed this year’s Splendour, I can’t make you feel better about it. Just make sure your nerves are up to the task in time for next year’s ticket sales.