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So I was one of the lucky punters to score tix to Splendour in the Grass 2008. The portents were not good – it was more complicated, time consuming and subject to more threats than trying to escape soviet Russia than a ticket for Splendour. And on the bus ride from Ballina to Byron we had the luck of sitting in the middle of a gaggle of laddettes giving the British girls a run for their money skolling guarana-laced alcopops and taking digital portraits of all and sundry.

Nonetheless the excitement of seeing the Presets, The Polyphonic Spree, Band of Horses, The Music, Sigur Ros, The Wombats and Vampire Weekend (to name but a few of the of the bands in the stellar line-up) was enough to take the sting out of this bitchy reviewer’s tongue.

Catching a quick glimpse of Tokyo Police Club upon arrival, dressed in the now ubiquitous check, these cats were channelling a Panics vibe and kept the decent crowd moving in beat.

Operator Please were next. Whilst strongly suspecting (like me) most were only there to get a good spot for The Music, the cool cats from just up the road pulled a strong crowd and belted out their singles from their first album Yes, Yes Vindictive – Get What You Want, Just a Song About Ping Pong and Leave it Alone. The highlight of the set though was the cover of Salt’n’Pepper’s hit Push It. The puffy sleeved lead singer and guitarist Amandah Wilkinson runs the show and we caught a glimpse of her teenage petulance when she kindly asked the sound guys to ‘fix my fucking mic up already!’. Delicious!

The Music were amazing. Robert Harvey sans afro is an A1 showman. These guys mustn’t give two hoots about style (unlike the Splendour punters) because they were clad in rather passé polo shirts and jeans like they were popping down to the pub for a lager. It mattered not. Take the Long Road and Walk it started proceedings and the band’s energy infected the crowd. Harvey’s dance-moves are legendary and we were treated to Leeds’ finest mover since Harry Kewell occupied the wing at Leeds United. Strength in Numbers (No-one can come between us) was apt given the throngs who were streaming past/through me and my posse during the set. The People was epic although the tricky timing confused the crowd a wee bit, who at that stage had become a seething mass.

Not being a fan of Cold War Kids it was an easy decision to go to Band of Horses – not that they could not stand on their own merits. Lead singer Ben Bridwell greeted us in a way most Aussies are very comfortable. Not a smoking ceremony, rather “How the fuck are you ya c***s”. Charming and disarming. They were beautiful. Their sound has an ethereal quality that seems to wash over you and cleanse your soul. Is There a Ghost, Ode to LRC, and Love You Like I Do all had the crowd heartily singing along – unfortunately not quite talented enough to be able to contribute to the glorious harmonies – alas. So far the high point of my Splendour experience.

From ethereal and glorious to spiritual in a completely different sense, the enormous and somewhat unruly cult of The Polyphonic Spree were next after BoH. I do not know where to start. The vibe the Spree created was as if not more important than the music itself. Every member of the band played each song as if it was their own and the sense of passion and pride was palpable. Dressed unusually in black, Tim DeLaughter (head honcho) et al saturated the crowd with love and sound only an umpteen-piece band could possibly produce. The musical highlights were their uplifting single Hold Me Now, a Live and Let Die cover and after retreating to stage left and throwing on the familiar white cassocks belted out Nirvana’s I’m So Happy. It’s difficult to convey in words the sense of love and life these crazy Texans created, suffice to say it would have made anyone feel warm and fuzzy. Their set unquestionably justified the carbon emissions as a result of them and their instruments flying from Dallas to the great south land.

The crowd was mixed. There were those that were there for the music (including dreadlocked locals and gum-boot clad pragmatists) and then there were the posers: tandoori-tanned pretty little things who were keeled over portaloos by six pm. Nonetheless, they gave me a perverse little giggle in their ridiculousness.

Written and reviewed by Ging.