After some initial confusion and grumbling over line up changes and starting times, and despite the frustratingly slow drinks and toilet queues, as well as the ridiculously long set changes, Nevereverland turned out to be almost worth the trouble as Modular celebrated their tenth birthday at Brisbane’s Riverstage by putting together an astrophysical array of its acts for a big dance party.

Van She did their best to warm up the early arrivals, although it’s always hard to get the punters’ attention as the first band when there are drink queues to join and the summer sun is blazing down. Although blessedly, it only reached 31 degrees today rather than yesterday’s scorching 36. These guys have got the whole cool indie-guitar-synth-dance-meister thing going on, although it seems to be getting a bit tired of late. Maybe it’s time to jump on a new bandwagon, or perhaps even move away from what everyone else is doing. Otherwise, Van She played a solid set that was good, but nowhere near great.

Ladyhawke was last seen in these parts hanging out with the Pnau guys for her cameo appearance on their national tour for club hit, Embrace. There was an expectation that she would deliver a show with a similar upbeat and sassy vibe, although this was shot down pretty rapidly. Dressed like a re-birthed Joan-Jett/Suzie Quatro action figure and clutching an electric guitar, Ladyhawke led the expanding crowd through a fairly safely-played series of tunes. A few more rounds on the festival circuit and Ladyhawke should have developed her stage show to be able to fit comfortably alongside today’s bigger names.

Berlin’s Whitest Boy Alive didn’t get off to a perfect start, due to some synth issues, although they put it down to the machine being from 1979, and therefore older than most people at the show. Despite the intermittent workings of their gear, they played a charming set of pop tunes from their Dreams release, throwing in a couple of covers for the hell of it. While not exactly in keeping with the dance flavour of the rest of the day, Whitest Boy Alive were well worth the forty minutes or so of ear time given to them.

The other international guests for the party, Hercules & Love Affair, were like stepping into a time machine and travelling back to the early 90’s when disco was a techno-punk affair and pop tragedies KLF and Snap reigned supreme. It was hard to tell if they were playing bad cover versions the whole set, or if they really had stepped through a worm hole and suddenly appeared 18 years after their proper time. People were dancing though, so it must appeal to some. As they say, different horses for different courses, whatever that actually means.

Melbourne maestros, Cut Copy were easily the heroes of today’s birthday party. Playing a choice cut of songs from In Ghost Colours and Bright Like Neon Love, Cut Copy were the perfect mix of energy, lethargy and vigour for the dancing crowd. Maybe it’s the live bass, guitar and drum set up with sequenced backing tracks, but it always seems to be much more exciting when there’s a real band playing dance music, rather than a couple of folk pushing buttons on a laptop computer or synthesiser/sampler. The sun was now down, people were either onto their umpteenth drink or taking some other mind-altering substances, the space lights were out, and the vibe was really hyping up. The dancing was in full swing by the time Cut Copy brought out crowd favourite, Hearts on Fire.

After another half hour set change, which got really annoying by the end of the day, on came British dress-up kings, Klaxons, in their capes and shiny villain suits. They powered into an amped and frenzied spiel of swagger-cock that was both exhilarating and antagonising in equal measures. They were a strange choice to put as main support, as it seemed that there was an obvious lull in the dancing and party flavour that Cut Copy had really worked on. Many punters took the opportunity to stand for an hour in the drink queues and to enjoy waiting in the toilet lines for port-a-loos that were now coated with filth and wet paper. While they are a big hype band, there’s not a great deal of substance to what Klaxons do. Once you get past the dress-up and musical psychosis, there’s not a great deal left to really get into.

The Presets need no real introduction. With Apocalypto being just about the biggest thing to come from Australia since Vegemite, there was really no question about who everyone came to see. Kicking off with Talk Like That, they launched into an hour long expedition through the wildwoods of electronic, pop fusion and dance, coming out the other end with the punters a panting, heaving mess of tangled hair, twisted ankles, soaked shirts and sweaty brows. There was a crackling intensity in the air and a feeling of strangely out-of-body telepathy being shared. We were one, some of us had sunstroke, others had more illicit substances affecting the mind, yet we were all drawn utterly into the green-lasered, smokey oily-water world that The Presets created for us.

When the last notes died into the evening and the flood lights clicked on, we wandered out of the Riverstage, leaving our discarded plastic beer cups and glowsticks for someone else to clean up, the toilets filthy and food wrappers strewn all over the place. No one seemed to mind that there were no bins provided for rubbish disposal, or that the cans of drink were poured into plastic cups, thereby doubling the waste generated. We were too busy convincing ourselves that life is good, all is well with the world, and someone else will do the dirty job of cleaning up, if we just enjoy ourselves and dance. Thanks to Modular for putting on a fun party, although next year, perhaps you could deliver the line up you originally promise, organise the logistics of drinks, toilets, rubbish and set changes a little more effectively, and maybe even try and promote a bit of a green-friendly approach to the event.