How to recreate Splendour athome
Wed 25th Jul, 2012 in Features
Missed out on tickets to Splendour In The Grass? Here’s a foolproof (and ever so slightly tongue in cheek) guide to recreating the experience from the comfort of your home.
Buy a new tent. Throw away at least five tent pegs. Buy a new set of clothes from a main street retailer that’s been playing an instore soundtrack of Splendour bands for the past two months, a second-hand jumper from an op-shop and steal your older brothers t-shirt from a previous Splendour. Think about buying gumboots but decide you won’t need them. Don’t pack a change of socks or jocks.
Invite a carload of your best mates including your least trustworthy, punctual and tight-arsed friend over for the weekend. Cram into your car and overload it with as much luggage as you can find. If you have any leg space you’re doing it wrong.
Place an invite for a costume party on Facebook with no privacy settings in place and then drive around until you’ve had time to listen to the past three years of Hottest 100 compilation CDs, or your home has filled with strangers in “amusing” animal snuggies. Bonus tip: For a more realistic festival experience use this driving time to find your nearest mobile phone tower and destroy it ensuring that phone coverage for the weekend is patchy at best.
Return home and pitch a tent at the bottom of your driveway to ensure that that if someone turned on a sprinkler at the top of your driveway all the water will run into your tent. Walk to the top of your driveway; turn the sprinkler on.
The lounge room is obviously the main stage of your festival party and no one should be allowed to enter the room without a slightly drunk girl on their shoulders. Stock up on concert DVDs – the Glastonbury and Coachella movies will work perfectly, but don’t worry too much you won’t be watching much of them. Just make sure that they feature plenty of songs with singalong choruses.
Once you cover the light globe in your bedroom with red cellophane it will magically become Splendour’s more intimate “GW McLennan Stage”. Your view of the stage/TV in this room should be impeded by your best mate and his new girlfriend who will spend the day making out in front of you. As the day progresses move your viewing position further away from the TV/stereo until you’re in your cupboard or under your bed.
Cover your laundry walls with a fortnight’s worth of junk mail, pour sugar over the floor and set the washing machine to the spin cycle with the lid open to recreate the sensation of stumbling into one of the branded “pop-up” bars.
Find everyone at your party who has appeared as an extra in an episode of Neighbours, writes a music blog, or plays reserves grade football and lure them onto the verandah with flattery and a slab of premium beer to create a Gold Bar. Mortals can mingle with your party stars upon forfeit of all their worldly possessions.
Whenever someone’s looking a little worse for wear, whack a poncho on them, smudge glow in the dark facepaint all over them and spin them around three times before pushing them into a large cupboard. This is your Tipi stage.
Someone at the party will have a guitar. Force them into a distant corner of the room and make them play covers of Wonderwall and Matt Corby’s Brother while no one pays any attention. Hey presto – the “Busker’s Stage”.
Force all guests over the age of 30 to spend at least half-an-hour during the weekend nodding sagely while listening to podcasts of Radio National and This American Life – this will capture the essence of the “Forum Tent”.
Although you should have prepared for the weekend by running down your phone’s battery, after every performance attempt to tweet and Facebook a review to make all your friends jealous. All reviews should follow this simple format: – Band name – Expression of joy – Tagging of friend’s name.
For example, after the headline set on Friday night, you should announce: “Jack White. Hell’s yeah! – with Jonno.” The more typos in your posts the more realistic they will appear.
At the Drive In: Give every guest at your party an industrial dose of concentrated red cordial and a neo-Marxist manifesto, and make them yell at each other for a solid hour. If anyone tries to dance turn the music off.
Jack White: Depending on your mood, force all the girls or all the blokes to leave the lounge room and play blues riffs for an hour. Let everyone back in the room to sing the “bass” line of Seven Nation Army.
Lana Del Rey: Find a first year Arts student and debate the concept of “authenticity in a post-modern world” until you’re distracted by a hilarious homemade Gotye meme.
The Kooks: Go down to the nearest hostel, lure some backpackers back to your pad with the promise of a cash job selling World Vision sponsorships. Tell them to bring flags.
Smashing Pumpkins: Convince your uncle he’s God and ask him to spend an hour playing songs you love too fast and songs you’ve never heard slowly. Introduce him to Twitter and the hot twins that live next door.
Afghan Whigs: Get your uncles and their mates to reminisce about “the old days”.
Mudhoney: Get your uncles and their mates to reminisce about “the old days”, loudly and stoned.
Azealia Banks: Turn the bass on your stereo up as high as possible and ask all the girls to say the filthiest things they can think of.
The Dirty Three: Plug a violin into a really loud amplifier, let it feedback while you teach your eight-year-old brother how to play the drums with paint brushes. Make sure a creepy uncle looks on motionless in the corner holding a guitar.
360: Give your 14-year-old cousin a microphone and ask him to list reasons why school sucks.
Muscles: Give your 14-year-old cousin a microphone and ask him to list reasons why not going to school is awesome.
Last Dinosaurs: What are The Holidays up to this weekend?
Fun.: Watch an episode of Glee.
The Beautiful Girls: Invite the hippies from the sharehouse next door in for a drink. Teach them the chords to Jack Johnson’s ‘Taylor’.
Tame Impala/POND: Spark a joint, they will come.
Chet Faker: Ask a guy with a beard to make out with your girlfriend while you watch.
Lanie Lane: Duck down to the nearest Route 66. Ask the store clerk to sing some songs in a “country-western style”.
Wolfmother: Invite a Brisbane cover band to your house. Give them the sheet music to The Beatles’ ‘Let It Be’.
Gossling: Download that annoying Woolworths jingle to your iPhone. Hit “repeat”.
The Rubens: Turn on Triple J.
Yacht Club DJs: Forget to take your Ritalin, dust off a copy of Now That’s What I Call Music 1992 and play 10-second snippets of each track until you get to Snow’s Informer. Leave that on for 30 seconds.
Confiscate all BYO alcohol upon arrival and issue your guests with tokens, redeemable for tickets that are then redeemable for twigs: five of which will get you one pre-opened can of light beer. Ensure that the bar is at the furthest point away from the band room; littered with muddy, half-eaten corn cobs and staffed by a midriff baring urchin who works part time at Happy High Herbs. When the line to the bar is at its longest, instruct the bands to start playing.
Peel some potatoes, stick the skins on skewers. Charge $10 a piece. Invite a handful of elderly Turkish ladies to your house and encourage them to make gozleme. Charge $15 a piece. Allow a dancing troupe of Hare Krishnas to enter your house, tell them you agree that the individual soul is an eternal personal identity which does not ultimately merge into any formless light or void, and then politely ask them to make delicious kofta balls. Charge $20 a piece.