First of all, let it be known that I am old, and that I don’t care. Secondly, in deference to the current economic crisis, this review will cover each act in seven words or less. Unless they were especially good or terrible, in which case they will be allocated a little more. But not much! Words are expensive! Just like diamond-encrusted gold.

Secondly., I doubt I’m alone in having had the wind kicked completely out of me once I was finally able to get home on Sunday night, only to turn on the television and see that the better part of most of Victoria had burned to the ground. This is the kind of thing that makes sitting around on the internet arguing about what you thought of Tame Impala even more lame that it would normally be. So if you get nothing else out of reading this – please, donate some money you would otherwise dumbly waste on a Tame Impala CD to the Red Cross. YOU ARE THE OLYMPICS.

Oh, and lastly, the sound outdoors. Or rather, the lack thereof. I know there were drums on the Park stage, because I could see them, but I don’t think I heard a snare until Hold Steady. You are going to hear nothing but muck up the back of the Reiby Place stage, though the ancillary speakers did help. For future, just hire whoever it was that mixed All Tomorrow’s Parties and put them on a retainer for the next 15 years. Sorted. A gig without a good mix is like turducken without the bacon layer – it’s just not quite right. At all.

Whatever! Onwards!

Talons

Avidly Thrashing, Worthy Heirs To Further. Phwoar.

John Steel Singers

This Is Sure Some Irritating Scheduling. FAIL.

Papa vs Pretty

That’s Some Seriously Bullshit Awesome Guitar Playing. This band is in possession of maybe the best young guitar player in the land, even if said guitar is nearly as long as dude is tall (and apparently, used to belong to Simon Day.) Also, an incredible voice. They also have really weird song names like Emor ePerim and describe themselves as “nearly as intense as camping.” They touch on requisite influences without being overly derivative, a little like Muse crossed with the Doves garnished with tiny smatterings of Radiohead and In Utero Nirvana. Probably young enough to have been born in the – œ90s. Terrifying. (Very) Young Men Single-Handedly Save The Day.

Tame Impala

Easily The Most Overrated Band Since Wolfmother. If you were born in the 90s, you probably think this is, like, rad, dude. Otherwise you liked this band better when they were called Spiritualized.

Mountains In The Sky

Swell Integration Of So Many Lovely Machines. Ah, the Basement! Where sound has been balanced just as it should be since 18-something-or-other! I had never seen these guys before, and they were wonderful. “Hope you’re all ready to dance!” Well, yes, actually we were. Especially when the sound was driven along by such a calamitous drummer, drilling with all the ferocity and precision of an 808, only with lovely acoustic warmth. This was sweet, uplifting dreamscapes with solid, swinging underpinnings. Highly recommended.

ARGH! Daylight!

No Age

Fight With Radio DJs On Internet. Retract.

The Temper Trap

A U2-Loving Band That Doesn’t Suck! Temper Trap appear to have an almost heroic commitment to looking daggy (see: tracky dack bottoms and extremely high held bass guitars.) But they sound wonderful. I can’t help thinking that the huge cheer that greeted Sweet Disposition would probably have turned to murderous derision if someone had instead put on a copy of the Joshua Tree. Though that song sounds musically exactly like U2, it is better than anything Bono’s written in a decade. Also, undying kudos to anyone who covers Dancing in the Dark so winningly.

Stereolab

Clearly Not A Band Made For Touring. This was a really disappointing, lacklustre set, not helped by the fact that the wind whipped around the stage and blew away what might have remained of the mix. And so –
Tim Fite

Why Did I Not Come Here Earlier? Everyone gets to make one big mistake, right? Damn you, Stereolab! How can someone who looks so thoroughly bizarre (Humpty Tin Tin) make such stunningly beautiful, stunningly strange and eclectic music? Profanity-laced hip hop country folk.? No problem.

The Drones

Here’s The Invasion of the Girl Talk People. Is there a harder working, more universally beloved band in the country than the Drones? I doubt it. Even if they were shuffled onto a different stage, and halfway through their set the great sea of Girl Talk people began their descent, elbowing heads as they plundered, and so we left, confident that we will see the Drones many more times. And likely somewhere where we can both see and hear them.

The Hold Steady

Not Just Anyone Rocks Double Necked Guitars. Classic rock is back, but it’s somehow cool when it’s from Brooklyn via Minneapolis. I’m not complaining, I’ll take big riffs, meat and potatoes drum fills and audience singalongs anyway I can get them. A thankfully upbeat way to call it a very long day.