Meredith Music Festival @ TheSupernatural Amphitheatre,Meredith (11-13/12/09)

Tue 15th Dec, 2009 in Gig Reviews

There was a quiet murmer that could be heard around Melbourne’s bars in early December that built to a solemn prayer. It went something like this: “Please god, don’t let it rain again at Meredith… please, please, please… don’t let it rain”. Thankfully as the cars stocked with tents, tarps and tinnies fled for the unofficial start of the summer’s festival season the clouds kept a discrete distance and a repeat of the Great Flood of 2008 was avoided.

The Friday morning of Meredith is almost certainly the only time you’ll find a service station on the road to Geelong filled with Wayfarer and gumboots clad coffee snobs happily downing International Dust black water at seven in the morning – but with a spot in Bush Camp up for grabs such sacrifices must be made.

With haphazard accommodation assembled, the Friday afternoon is largely devoted to sneaking in lost sleep, chatting to new neighbours and devising some sort of complicated band to beer ratio in order to successfully pace yourself through the weekend. Staking out a spot in front of the stage isn’t nearly as fraught an expedition as securing a camping space, with the Amphitheatre offering superb views from almost every angle and the clouds providing enough cover that cowering under the trees isn’t mandated.

After the countdown and the ceremonial raising of the mirror ball cow, Regular John opened the festival by teaching us the varied ways they spell love – L-U-V, and apparently F-U-C-K – in a set that rumbled along but didn’t set pulses racing. They were followed by Oh Mercy who were as memorable as a band with almost no hooks and little to say could possibly be, but the festival shifted into gear with Witch Hats. The last minute replacements for Crocodiles (who bailed due to a family emergency), delighted in fucking with the atmosphere so early in proceedings – declaring themselves to be delighted to be playing – œthe Pyramid festival’ – before tearing and howling their way through the late afternoon.

The first act to lift the seated residents of Meredith Amphitheatre to their feet was Akron/Family who opened with River, the highlight of their new Set – œEm Wild/Set – œEm Free. It set up their set perfectly and though some of the tribal drumming freak outs (surely the sound of indie circa 2009) ambled too long, they offered one of the standout Friday sets.

Playing too early for her Day-Glo outfits, Sia’s set of pop and helium accented banter was strangely pop for Meredith and the rockists fled to restock eskies leaving the Amphitheatre an oddly female populated zone; perhaps a brief vision of that other festival sharing a girl’s name – Lilith. With chilled out tunes like Zero 7’s Distractions and the always gorgeous Breath Me, the set perhaps took a back ward step when everyone was gearing up for a party; though new song You’ve Changed brought a sunny jaunt to the show.

Loping to centre stage in a cape, the divisive Patrick Wolf played a set filled with operatic vocals, costume changes and complaints about the effect the – œtropical’ weather was having on his tuning. As the punters shivered on the hill Wolf bounded the stage throwing himself into his performance, but unlike his now infamous show at a German festival earlier in the year. Though the set drew heavily from his latest album The Bachelor the flamboyant closer Magic Position was the highlight of the bombastic performance.

After the theatrics of Patrick Wolf, Tumbleweed blazed their way to Meredith glory with a raw set of 90s rock. Opening with the crackle of thunder and the sound of Frankenstein – “It’s alive!” – booming over the speakers, the reformed grunge heroes brought back the Meredith of old with (surprisingly) their first ever set at the festival. Classic dirty, sludging riffs including Daddy Long Legs even brought back a revival of moshing and crowd surfing as though flannelette never died.

After such a powerful set it was always going to be hard for the remaining Friday acts to impress. Royal Crown Revue tried to bring a touch of Vegas to proceedings without ever really hitting jackpot. Jennifer Keith impressed with 40 Cups of Coffee, but Eddie Nichols’ Sinatra was more airport lounge than fancy cocktail bar. The instrumental breaks during Hey Pachuco! gave the band a chance to show off – with a drum solo on the double bass winning the set before the band closed with Viva Los Vegas.

Like an episode of Spy Vs Spy directed by Calvin Kline, Yacht danced and karaoked their way through a series of overly scripted slogans – which was more fun than it might sound, but not much more. Finally a blissed out disco tinged set from Tim Sweeney provided the perfect backdrop to a final Friday Pink Flamingo and unintelligible conversations with a stranger, before Silence Wedge’s always welcome set cleared the floor for the night.

Saturday opened with coffee and the woozy, off-key sounds of the Ballarat Municipal Brass Band playing selections from The Beatles, the Grease soundtrack and even the Wiggles; as one punter summed up so eloquently “They were rubbish – but lots of fun”. With the Brass section packed off to prepare scones and lamingtons, the stage was cleared for Kid Sam to play the unofficial – œnext thing’ slot – a spot taken in recent years by Tame Impala and Snowman. Standing as far apart as possible on the stage, cousins Kishore and Kieran Ryan proved why they’ve this year’s hotly tipped with singles We’re Mostly Made of Water and Down to the Cemetery standing out in a perfect start to the day.

Though John Dwyer’s attempt at spitting into the air and catching the nugget on the way back just missed his mouth, he was spot on as he lead Thee Oh Sees to the title of “Hillbilly Eddy Current”. With guitars worn high as bowties, they yelped and bashed away through an unpretentious and enjoyable set, in stark contrast to Why? who followed them on stage. Despite a gifted drummer, who managed to play his kit and a xylophone at the same time, Why?’s efforts at combining limp indie with nebbish lyrics saw the band essentially providing their review with their name. Wearing an old Anticon shirt in a reminder of days when he was interesting, Why?’s cringeworthy lyrics were outdone only by the template cut indie rock in an unfortunate race for mediocrity.

Kitty and Daisy opened with accapella before their brother Lewis joined them on stage. Backed by their parents, the young trio switched between instruments with ease and brought olde time blues back to Meredith. Aided by heavy rotation on RRR, Kitty, Daisy and Lewis drew a huge and very appreciative crowd for their set, which almost saw them upstaged by the giddy fun of their guest trumpeter.

Though sadly not touring with a live band on this jaunt, Pharaohe Monch did the next best thing and roped in a member of the X-ecutioners to tackle the decks. With a brief trick DJ show from Boogie Blind and backing singers passionately crying out on Desire, Pharaohe was almost overwhelmed in his own set. But, as expected, the inevitable set closer Simon Says was enormous – providing a Meredith moment for the ages – as the hill exploded with Godzilla-like force.

Festival perennials Combo La Revalation returned for their 14th year to conga and salsa with the punters. Sure it’s the same every year, but it’s tradition – like that gift voucher you get from your uncle at Christmas; not unwelcome, but not the greatest either. Another, newer, tradition led a few hundred off into Bush Camp to indulge in cocktails served by spacemen, an esky jump world record attempt and the strangely terrifying smashing of a guitar shaped piñata filled with pirate treasure, sex toys and other goodies.

Back on the Meredith stage (after a visit with the Blues Explosion back in 2002) Jon Spencer fronted Heavy Trash with Matt Verta-Ray. However, despite his perfectly slicked back hair and the slightly maniacal looking dude slapping the double bass, their set lacked the energy and howls of a JSBX gig. Spencer tried to inject some passion in toward the end of the overlong set, but sadly it never really took off.

With only one stage and BYO beers in the esky at your feet there’s none of the frantic scrambling between bands that characterises most other festivals. Instead the punters remain on the hill to sing and dance along to the DJ selections between bands, happily joining in the communal joy of – œtrashy’ classics including Dire Straits, Beyonce and DJ Kool’s Let Me Clear My Throat. It’s all part of the strange Meredith magic that brings hipsters and bogans together in song. (The punter’s even voted Yello’s 1985 hit Oh Yeah the official – œClean up Meredith’ song and happily filled garbage bags with crushed cans whenever the track boomed over the speakers.)

Joining Tumbleweed on the list of – œMeredith debuts you were sure should have happened much earlier’, Paul Kelly took to the Amphitheatre for the first time as the sun dipped past Inspiration Point. Saint Paul, recently canonised by a tribute show at Forum, mixed crowd pleasers – Careless, Deeper Water, To Her Door_, Sweet Guy and Dumb Things – with lesser known material that struggled with an audience expecting a festival set of sing-alongs. The decision to include the depressing Everything’s Turning White and several songs with Vika Bull taking the lead saw Kelly briefly losing the crowd to a game of catch. However some punters, obviously thinking they were at Golden Plains, showed their appreciation by offering Kelly the highest form of Supernatural Amphitheatre praise by holding a shoe in the air and it spread across the crowd. It might not have been a great festival show from Kelly, or even the right festival, but it’s hard to think of a man more deserving of the honour.

Animal Collective opened with the Grateful Dead sampling What Would I Want? Sky and proceed to noodle their way through a set with little interest in playing for the festival crowd. 2001-esque screensaver projections may have looked more impressive on the brown acid, but the set drifted dangerously close to disappearing into a black hole of an entirely different kind. Finally gathering some momentum they lifted the hill into the joyous Brothersport, but crashed back to earth as they exited the stage without playing My Girls – undeniably their crossover moment. As they’ve played it at their sideshows, it seemed a weakly defiant gesture set to deliberately alienate anyone not devoted enough to fork out for their headline shows. A fine, if unengaging set, that won’t have won any new fans – but you get the feeling that they’re trying to pre-empt the inevitable backlash.

With the backing band, including Pulp’s Steve Mackey on bass, keeping a low profile, Jarvis Cocker cavorted about the stage offering banter on par with, if not better than, his lyrics as he touched on Edvard Munch’s birthday, Frank Sinatra and Turkmenistan’s Neutrality Day. Some punters complain that he’s all show and no tell, but from the introduction of Angela, the biting wit of Fat Children, the mirror ball lit Discosong and the closing sing along of Cunts Are Still Running The World Jarvis is never short of thoroughly entertaining.

Taking the headline slot with their third show in the Supernatural Amphitheatre, Eddy Current Suppression Ring made a convincing argument for renaming the stage in their honour. Simply put – no band owns the Meredith stage like Eddy Cuz. Still standing on stage as though cramped into a tiny bar, they played a scorching set filled with crowd pleasers including Insufficient Funds, Precious Rose and Which Way To Go. Brendan Suppression decided to walk from the stage to the mixing desk and the punters part to make a path – with everyone looking around and Cheshire grinning; yep – it’s already an official Meredith moment set to take its place beside the Dirty Three’s lightning set and The Make-Up’s set all those years ago. Forget Combo, it’s ECSR that should play every year.

The local franchise of the Girl Talk fan club, Yacht Club DJ’s offered a premixed set for premixed punters, with little that couldn’t be achieved by quickly flicking a radio dial back and forth between commercial radio stations on a Tuesday night. Playing after the woeful MGMT and hilarious Muscles in 2008 Yacht Club killed it, but after Jarvis and ECSR they’re dead boring and kill the need to linger in the Amphitheatre.

There are few things funnier early on a Sunday morning than the look of determination on the face of a servery addled punter attempting Master Song’s Tai Chi session, but there was nothing amusing about the insulting awful set from Kes Band which followed. Opening by alternating screeching with silence it didn’t take long before the pauses were filled by volleys of abuse from the hill. Not even the satisfaction of a Tucker Tent bacon and egg sandwich could block out the horridness of Kes’ chalkboard vocals and drigey guitar and those that were able to move fled to take down their tents.

Self-declared “Santa of Meredith” Henry Wagons challenged Jarvis for the – œAndy Falkous trophy for Best Meredith Banter’ with stories of Adelaide landmark desecration, faulty jean zippers and jumpsuit era Elvis. Wagons offered country ( Drive All Night – œTill Dawn ), covers ( Never Been to Spain, Willie Nelson ) and carols ( We Three Kings of Orient Are ) – all with class and charisma to burn. And hopefully the gang from Why? didn’t have to race to a sci-fi role play convention and were able to hear Si the Philanthropist and Mark “Tuckerbag” Dawson slay them at their own game with a pisstake rap.

If Wagons offer a materclass in stage presence then The Middle East may want to enroll to improve their current show of shy smiles and awkward shuffles. Their bass player does break out in a grin on occasion, but their dour stage presence still suggests band night at Christian camp. Thankfully they write an excellent tune and with all six members harmonising, bar their hooded drummer, the beauty of Blood and The Darkest Side drew a hushed awe from the crowd.

As The Fauves amble through a collection of uninspiring Aussie rock and the Gift runners limber up in horrifying fashion it was clearly time to bid Aunty Meredith adieu for another year. We’ve probably been left with a strange Pavlovian need to pick up cans whenever we hear Yello’s Oh Yeah, but as we recover from our excesses and reminisce about Eddy Current and Tumbleweed it’s clearly a small price to pay for such an amazing weekend. Thanks Aunty, see ya next year.

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