Seriously Saturday

Campers take note: there is no way to sleep in much past sunrise in a tent on a 30 degree day unless you were one of the smart cookies who brought along a gazebo. So if you didn’t have the sense to get an early Friday night, there were a few choices: 1. Suck it up you big girl, you’re young and crazy and you need not sleep to survive. 2. Get yourself to the lounge, stat… hopefully there is a comfy couch left that you can claim for a few hours. 3. Grab some breakfast and whatever shade is available until the Other Stage opens, then park yourself on the grass under the big top and have a lie down while you are serenaded by the lovely Abbe May and The Rockin’ Pneumonia. Any takers for option three definitely made a wise choice.

Abbe May has one of those glorious, timeless, blues voices that stands out like a beacon in the world of nasty, auto-tuned meaningless drivel that they’re calling music these days. The band take up an awful lot of the stage; there seemed to be about five guitars, up there, plus a violin and drummer… it’s the kind of line-up that makes you think the sound might be a little busy: but not so for this band; they somehow make it work, everyone has their part in the music, and no one seems to be turning up their amp to drown out anyone else, or trying to out-do anyone. The highlight of their set was an absolutely gorgeous rendition of Amazing Grace that may have brought a little mist to some sleepy eyes, and was enough to get us up and out of the tent to see what the day held in store.

Saturday saw the opening of the rest of the festival, with the two main stages offering up more selection and the influx of another 7000 people on day-passes and the crowd-pulling acts started nice and early on all stages, with Philadelphia Grand Jury, Liam Finn and Hungry Kids of Hungary drawing people out into the sun early in the day. Over at That Stage, Chairlift saw us getting back into a bit of Depeche Mode – style ambient electro infused rock, and it would have been pretty good to stay for the whole set had there been some shade; but alas, they just weren’t good enough to keep everyone frying, so some of us scuttled back to the big top to check out what was happening there.

Patrick Watson had all eyes glued to the stage, as he used his voice and instruments in ways so many artists have forgotten or maybe never considered; like standing back from the microphone and cupping his hands around his mouth to create a hollow, distant sound, or playing a guitar like a xylophone, using drum sticks to make unexpectedly beautiful music. Particularly memorable, was the performance of Man Under the Sea. While singing through a megaphone has been done before (but not nearly enough some of us say), but adding a trumpet mute was a stroke of genius. The final song was performed out in the audience, with a backpack strapped to him sprouting several megaphone-style speakers to carry the sound throughout the crowd; why he didn’t just get a wireless mic was not really discussed, but it was a pretty clever idea, and it certainly broke some of the boundaries of live performance, which is what it was really all about. Unfortunately, unless you were up close, the amplification just wasn’t enough to make the sound carry, and those of us trapped in the drinking cage could hardly hear, making it a good time to head off before being subjected to The Inspector Cluzo. It seemed like as good a time as any to get some lunch and just generally wander around the stages aimlessly for a while.

Heading back out to have a little dance with Yves Klein Blue and their unique rockabilly charm was a lot of fun, but after seeing them a few times, it felt like time to move back into the big top, where we chanced to see one of the coolest acts of the weekend, Andrew Bird. First of all, the guy can whistle like no one you’ve ever heard, and he teams this up with the violin, both plucked and bowed, using a loop pedal to create multi-layered, intriguing sound that is normally reserved for recorded music. Oh, and he can play the glockenspiel… If there’s anyone that gained some new fans this weekend it would have to be him.

Next up on That Stage was Seasick Steve; wow, what a surprise! This guy is pushing 70, but he certainly knows how to rock out. Sporting the hobo-chic look, swigging Jim Beam straight from the bottle and alone on stage with only a drummer for company, he managed to hold a crowd of people about a third of his age in thrall for the entire set. With various guitars, he churned out grass roots blues tunes that almost everyone had to dance to. He demonstrated that it’s not about the tools you use, but the skill of the musician that makes great music; one of his guitars was a home-made job – a plank of wood with some pickups and a piece of string sounded just as good as most other things heard so far. He also had a $50 guitar with 3 strings that was much mended with gaffer tape and looked like it may have travelled the world without a case. Mid-way through the set, he requested a lady come up out of the audience, to which there wasn’t an overwhelming response, (that’s not surprising, considering he’d just finished telling us about a stint in prison). When a girl was coaxed out of the crowd and seated next to him; looking like she’d rather be any place else, he serenaded her with a beautiful lament; at the end, she was all smiles and hugs… we guess he’s not that scary after all.

Leaving Seasick Steve early to catch some of Grizzly Bear was pretty disappointing, and to be honest, so was the rest of the afternoon. The Editors drew a bit of a modest crowd, considering their successes; but hearing them it wasn’t surprising why… pretty much if you’ve seen Snow Patrol, or [insert other dull indie band here], then you didn’t miss anything. The only really memorable thing about their set was right at the end, when front man Tom Smith wished us a good night by saying “enjoy Wolf…whatever-their-name-is, and Moby!” Now maybe he genuinely didn’t know who Wolfmother were, but some of us tend to think it was a deliberate dig at the band, who don’t seem to be very popular with a lot of other musicians.

Wolfmother were up next. This was a tense moment for some of us, who were genuine fans of the original 3 piece, yet to see the new incarnation. The set was fun, the music makes you dance and jump around, but you really have to try hard not to hear how much they’re butchering the songs you used to love. There’re too many guitars on stage now, the music is too busy; it’s lost the simplicity that made it great, and let’s face it, it’s just hard to love Andrew Stockdale these days. But to give credit where it’s due, people were singing and dancing and having a great time in spite of the changes.

Absolute weekend highlight was without a doubt Moby. Those of us who only ever had the album Play may have had some trepidation going in, thinking we’d only know a few songs, but the fear was unfounded as Moby knows what the crowd wants, and all the favourites off that uber-successful album were there. The whole set was super high-energy and at times felt a little like a rave party; this was completely intentional, as he admitted that deep down, he will always be a raver kiddie. Anyone who thought a Moby show would be watching a guy behind a set of decks was dead-wrong; the show was live, with the man himself not doing much singing, but playing a mean guitar and thrashing away on the Congos. Most of the singing was taken care of by a couple of lovely and incredibly talented ladies. We were given a little insight into his background as he played for us a song called Wonder Bread written at 16 when he was in punk band… that was certainly out of left-field. There was also a cover of Lad Zeppelin’s Whole Lot of Love thrown in there, which probably pissed off some Zeppelin fans, but was lots of fun anyway. Afterwards Moby mentioned that it was “dedicated to Wolfmother, obviously”, which can only be construed as another dig at the band and their similarity to the sounds of Led Zeppelin.

It all seemed to be over much too quickly though, and the crowd was left looking for something to keep them up on the Moby High; many headed over to catch the end of DJ Yoda. He was playing a bit of John Farnham, so the decision to just keep walking was pretty easily made. The line for the Silent Disco was incredible and Fear of Comedy had just finished in the groove tent… so off we went to the Cinema, where Tomas Ford was beginning his show.

There was no room in the cinema at first, but Ford’s reputation precedes him, and it was a sure thing that a few seats would free up pretty quickly as the squeamish amongst the crowd left in a hurry. Ford was in his element, as the majority of the crowd lay stretched out in bean-bags, the perfect position for him to climb on top of people and lick faces. The aim of the show seemed to be about getting you out of your comfort zone; it’s all about audience participation and confronting that which makes us uncomfortable. It would be a shame to give too much away though… next time you see Tomas Ford billed to perform, go along and check him out.